The Scribbler Iain Maitland (good books to read txt) 📖

crumpled skin to the right side of his face. An accident, it had been said, when burning a field. The reality was a mix of violent blows and a hot iron pressed too hard and too long by Father so many years ago.

“I was walking through the woods …”

“Which woods?”

“I was walking through the woods near Ipswich when I heard screaming. I could not tell if it was a boy or a girl.”

“A girl,” the man with the axe said firmly. “Girls scream when they are in pain. Boys do not.” He touched the side of his face again. “Go on, tell the story.”

“I heard screaming and I ran into the woods. There was a man there …”

“What did he look like? The man? Like Father?” the man with the axe asked. “Tell me.”

“The man wore a suit. Like Father used to wear when he went to work and for church on Sundays. And he stood there with the boy and the girl on their knees at his feet …”

“What did they look like, the boy and the girl? Were they pretty?”

“Yes, she was a pretty blonde girl with pigtails and he was a handsome blonde boy with curly hair. And the man stood over them holding himself in his hands.”

The man with the axe looked down at the ground and shook slightly. After a while, he dragged heavily on his cigarette and then spoke. “He is a very bad man.”

“I said to the children, “Go, children, go on, run away and I will deal with this bad man. And they ran off and I saved them by …” he gestured towards the body.

“He was a very bad man … can I see his face?”

The man with the gloves finished his cigarette, squeezing the tip with his fingers and then dropping it and crushing it into the ground with his foot. He glanced over at his brother, saw the look of excitement on his face, and then reached for the bagged body. He felt with his fingers across the plastic, searching for the old man’s nose and forehead and then down to his chin. He ripped at the bag as it tore, exposing the dead man’s face.

“There,” he said. “Can you see?”

The man with the axe leaned in, peering at the face, closer to the body than he needed to be.

“He is a bad man.”

“Yes.”

“The little girl and the little boy will be safe now.”

“Yes.”

“There will be more bad men?”

“Yes … but don’t worry about that now … come on, give me a hand … let’s get him to the pit.”

One final look from the man with the axe and he pulled the black plastic back over the face. The man with the gloves knew, as they stood and heaved the body up, that they were not yet done with it. Almost, but not quite.

He realised, as they took the body to the cesspit, that the man with the axe would suggest that he alone would deal with the body, that the man with the gloves should go and fetch the axe and shut the van doors and lock the van.

“Yes,” the man with the gloves said, a minute or so later, when they rested the body on the ground close to the cesspit. “I’ll go and lock the van.”

The man with the axe smiled to himself as he turned away to drag the body towards the pit.

“I’ll see you in the farmhouse in ten minutes,” the man with the gloves said.

“Yes,” the man with the axe answered.

“Make sure you’re clean and tidy before you come back to the farmhouse. For Mother.”

The man with the axe nodded his agreement. 14. THURSDAY 15 NOVEMBER, MORNING

“So,” Gayther said, looking at Carrie, Cotton and Thomas around the desk in the portacabin office. “A bright and early start. All well with everyone? We have a busy day. Busy, busy, busy. Lots to do.”

Cotton and Thomas nodded and smiled.

Carrie went to say something.

Gayther hushed her down, eager to share out the day’s workload straightaway.

“Cotton, Thomas – jobs for you this morning. I want you to track down the two who got away from The Scribbler. Alan Wade, the teacher at the private school in Ipswich. And the other … Martin Wilkerson, the bank manager from Diss. They’d be retired now. See what you can find. I’d like to have a chat with them. You never know. Every little thing is helpful.”

Gayther turned to Carrie.

She went to speak.

He shook his head, silencing her. “In a minute … busy, busy.”

He continued, “Carrie, lots to keep you occupied. I want you to speak with whoever’s handling the Karen Williams case … and Aland … and bring us up to speed on that as soon as you can … I think we can dismiss them as Scribbler-related, but you never know. Sally and Jen, whichever one it was you spoke to, contact them and see if anyone recognised the photos. We’ll go back in this afternoon if they did. If we get a positive identification, we can move forward fast on that.”

“We also need someone to check out Halom and whether he was at the caravan park when he said he was. Probably best to run up there. Carrie, can I leave that with you for this afternoon, please? Take Thomas or Cotton.” Before she could answer, he went on. “Burgess … vanishing like this … I don’t buy it. Something about it bothers me. He’s the one my money’s on. So, Cotton, Thomas … one of you … have another go at that this morning. Dig deeper. See if you can find him. I can’t help thinking he’ll not have an alibi for the night of Lodge’s killing. If he doesn’t … well, maybe the net’s closing in already.”

Gayther blew out his cheeks, leaning back in his chair and stretching his arms out above his head. He then leaned forward, summing up, “And that just leaves Challis and his completely over-the-top reaction to our visit yesterday.