Read Online An Early Grave by Robert McCracken - Free Book Online Page B

there would have been any better. Different surely, but he doubted better. Callum didn’t need any of it. He didn’t need reminders of where he came from, where he’d been or what he’d done, but the great paradox of his woeful existence was that reminders were all he had, the things he collected, drew around him. Why did he need such things? He had no idea, but he hurried to get home to them.
    Stepping off the bus on Glover’s Lane, he wandered across to the row of shops and bought some milk, semi-skimmed, and The Daily Telegraph . Usually he read the paper in Netherton Library, but today he wanted sanctuary, he wanted to restore himself as an island. He made his way home. He met no one. He felt the rain trickle down his nose, dribble through his thick beard and saturate the worn collar of his T-shirt. When he reached the cul-de-sac he could tell there was something wrong. Billy Hughes, his next door neighbour, stood under his porch, sheltering from the rain, looking up and down the road as if watching for somebody. He sported a serious beer gut that he nourished each Friday and Saturday down at the Hungry Horse and after a match at Goodison. The last few drags of a cigarette hung from a small mouth under a podgy nose, purple at the tip from a burst vessel. He had the remnants of what once had been a black DA hairstyle, thick strands of long hair greased over his scalp. His wife Jean wouldn’t let him smoke in the house.
    ‘See your door?’ said Billy as Callum reached the pathway leading to his house. ‘Bloody kids did it.’
    ‘Midgey! Is he all right?’ He fumbled in his pocket for a key, slipped it in the lock and opened the door. The dog, tail wagging, sniffed the air as Callum bent down. ‘Hiya doing, Midgey? Think I wasn’t coming back? I’ll get you a drink and some food, and then we can go for a walk, eh?’ He patted him on the head, and the dog responded by attempting to lick his hand.
    ‘Went daft, barking and getting on,’ said Billy. ‘But he’s OK. Been quiet all morning. Imagine them shites doing the like of that in broad daylight?’
    Callum examined the scorched wood of the door. Someone had forced the letter box open, and then tried to pour petrol, or lighter fluid inside. At least the word paedo was now obliterated, but how long before he or Midgey were burned to death?
    ‘My window,’ said Billy, ‘I saw them from up there.’ He pointed with his fag at the bedroom window above. ‘I came out after them, but they run like the beggars. Couldn’t run after them, not with my knees. Our Jean got a basin of water and chucked it at the door.’
    Callum nodded his acknowledgement. He didn’t know whether to sound angry about the damage or grateful for Billy’s intervention. He thought that maybe he couldn’t care less. More important things to worry about. Thoughts carried him so far away he tuned out Billy’s continued explanation of the incident.
    ‘Thanks, Billy.’
    He closed the door with Billy Hughes still looking on, straining the last drag from the butt of his cigarette.
    *
    Tara spent her afternoon reviewing her notes on the murder of the girl. Sadly, not much added since the first day. Murray sat with a flea in his ear on the far side of the office. She’d told him off for jumping the gun with Callum and giving her only lead a bruise on his face. He’d set her back at least a couple of days trying to cultivate some response from, potentially, their only worthwhile witness. At least he had the decency to apologise and to suggest a few less rash ideas for gathering information. Tara set him the task of tracing people who may be in the local pornographic movie-making business. She reckoned that should appeal to his facetious wit.
    She had a post-mortem report on the girl. Cause of death was asphyxiation by direct interference of the main air passage ways: most likely smothered under a pillow as she’d thought. No bruises, except for the effects of lividity. There were no