Read Online All My Enemies by Barry Maitland - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Barry Maitland
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long.”
There was a sudden burst of pop music from somewhere close by.
“Warwick’s having his breakfast in the kitchen,” Mrs. Ratcliffe said. “I let him sleep in later during the school holidays. Quite often he stays up late at night with his radio. It’s his hobby.”
“Listening to the radio?”
“No.” Mrs. Ratcliffe smiled and pointed out into the garden through the new aluminium sliding doors. For the first time, Kathy noticed the spidery structure of aerials and masts that were threaded through the silver birch trees. “He gets messages from all around the world, and he transmits them as well. He built it all, with his dad’s help.”
Kathy had already noticed a portrait photograph of father and son grinning at the camera, both with the same shock of red hair and wearing similar large round glasses.
“They had a bit of trouble with the neighbours for a while.” Mrs. Ratcliffe rolled her eyes, as if to say that boys will be boys. “They were causing interference with everybody’s TVs. The Hannafords got particularly agitated at one point, so we introducedthe eleven o’clock rule. He’s not allowed to transmit before 11:00 p.m., when everyone’s switched off for the night.”
“I see. Well, one thing I wanted to check again with him was the time he arrived home on Saturday night. There’s no chance it could have been later than 11:55, as he said?”
“Oh no. He’d have been right about that. That’s the twelve o’clock rule. He must be home by midnight, unless it’s something very special. He is only fifteen. And I think young people appreciate having firm rules to work within, don’t you?”
Kathy smiled. “I’m sure you’re right. I get the impression from my friends that it’s the parents who get tired of the rules first. You know, having to monitor them, staying up to midnight to check the kids are back, that sort of thing.”
Mrs. Ratcliffe nodded. “Yes, well, we don’t actually do that. We’re usually asleep long before then, I’m afraid. There has to be an element of trust. Anyway, have a talk to Warwick, by all means.”
Kathy asked the boy if he would show her his room upstairs, so that she could see how much of the house and garden next door was visible. From the main window, in front of which stood a desk crowded with electronic equipment, the elaborate array of aerials in the garden of number 30 was clearly visible, although almost nothing of the adjoining garden could be seen. However, there was also a small side window facing directly across to the Hannafords’ house, and through it Kathy could see a corresponding window in what must be Angela’s room.
“You can see directly across to Angela’s room from here, Warwick,” she said.
“Yes. She always kept her curtains drawn on that window.”
“But you don’t?”
He shook his head, cautious, but feigning indifference.
“So you would have definitely been aware of it if her light had been on when you returned on Saturday night?”
“Suppose so.”
“And it wasn’t?”
“That’s what I told the other bloke.”
“Did you draw your curtains when you returned?”
“Yes.”
“And you heard no sounds from next door?”
“No.”
“No sound of a car starting up? No sound of anything being broken? A voice? A cry?”
Warwick shook his head and looked away. His hand strayed towards the dial on a silver metal box and began to fiddle with it.
“And you are quite certain about the time? 11:55?”
“That’s what I told the man.”
“I know, but you probably didn’t realize then just how serious this all was, Warwick. Look at me, please. Did you realize then that Angela had been brutally murdered? Did you realize then just how important your statement would be? You were probably more concerned at that point about your parents’ twelve o’clock rule, isn’t that right?”
Warwick swallowed uncomfortably, his eyes darting back and forward from Kathy’s steady gaze.
“You realize you
There was a sudden burst of pop music from somewhere close by.
“Warwick’s having his breakfast in the kitchen,” Mrs. Ratcliffe said. “I let him sleep in later during the school holidays. Quite often he stays up late at night with his radio. It’s his hobby.”
“Listening to the radio?”
“No.” Mrs. Ratcliffe smiled and pointed out into the garden through the new aluminium sliding doors. For the first time, Kathy noticed the spidery structure of aerials and masts that were threaded through the silver birch trees. “He gets messages from all around the world, and he transmits them as well. He built it all, with his dad’s help.”
Kathy had already noticed a portrait photograph of father and son grinning at the camera, both with the same shock of red hair and wearing similar large round glasses.
“They had a bit of trouble with the neighbours for a while.” Mrs. Ratcliffe rolled her eyes, as if to say that boys will be boys. “They were causing interference with everybody’s TVs. The Hannafords got particularly agitated at one point, so we introducedthe eleven o’clock rule. He’s not allowed to transmit before 11:00 p.m., when everyone’s switched off for the night.”
“I see. Well, one thing I wanted to check again with him was the time he arrived home on Saturday night. There’s no chance it could have been later than 11:55, as he said?”
“Oh no. He’d have been right about that. That’s the twelve o’clock rule. He must be home by midnight, unless it’s something very special. He is only fifteen. And I think young people appreciate having firm rules to work within, don’t you?”
Kathy smiled. “I’m sure you’re right. I get the impression from my friends that it’s the parents who get tired of the rules first. You know, having to monitor them, staying up to midnight to check the kids are back, that sort of thing.”
Mrs. Ratcliffe nodded. “Yes, well, we don’t actually do that. We’re usually asleep long before then, I’m afraid. There has to be an element of trust. Anyway, have a talk to Warwick, by all means.”
Kathy asked the boy if he would show her his room upstairs, so that she could see how much of the house and garden next door was visible. From the main window, in front of which stood a desk crowded with electronic equipment, the elaborate array of aerials in the garden of number 30 was clearly visible, although almost nothing of the adjoining garden could be seen. However, there was also a small side window facing directly across to the Hannafords’ house, and through it Kathy could see a corresponding window in what must be Angela’s room.
“You can see directly across to Angela’s room from here, Warwick,” she said.
“Yes. She always kept her curtains drawn on that window.”
“But you don’t?”
He shook his head, cautious, but feigning indifference.
“So you would have definitely been aware of it if her light had been on when you returned on Saturday night?”
“Suppose so.”
“And it wasn’t?”
“That’s what I told the other bloke.”
“Did you draw your curtains when you returned?”
“Yes.”
“And you heard no sounds from next door?”
“No.”
“No sound of a car starting up? No sound of anything being broken? A voice? A cry?”
Warwick shook his head and looked away. His hand strayed towards the dial on a silver metal box and began to fiddle with it.
“And you are quite certain about the time? 11:55?”
“That’s what I told the man.”
“I know, but you probably didn’t realize then just how serious this all was, Warwick. Look at me, please. Did you realize then that Angela had been brutally murdered? Did you realize then just how important your statement would be? You were probably more concerned at that point about your parents’ twelve o’clock rule, isn’t that right?”
Warwick swallowed uncomfortably, his eyes darting back and forward from Kathy’s steady gaze.
“You realize you
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