Read Online Blood On the Wall by Jim Eldridge - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jim Eldridge
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of course, because the border area was so far from the two seats of government for the two countries of England and Scotland. Certainly the Reivers became stronger and stronger during the 1300s and 1400s, but it was during the sixteenth century, the 1500s, that Reiver activity reached its peak.’
‘But if a Reiver was caught, he was executed?’ asked Georgiou.
‘On rare occasions,’ agreed Moody. ‘Generally the officers of the law ransomed them back to their families. Most law officers at that time were as crooked as the thieves they were supposed to catch.’
‘But if they were executed,’ persisted Georgiou, ‘how was it done? I remember that Henry VIII had the heads of his wives chopped off. And Mary Queen of Scots was also executed the same way. Did that happen to the Reivers who were executed?’
Moody shook her head.
‘Execution by axe was for the upper classes only,’ she said. ‘Criminals, and that certainly included the Reivers, was by hanging.’
As Georgiou and Tennyson walked back to their car, Tennyson broke into a chuckle.
‘What a history lesson!’ he laughed. ‘I learnt more in twenty minutes with her than I did all the time I was at school.’
‘But does it help us?’ asked Georgiou. ‘If she’s right, we have to go even further back in history than the Border Reivers to find the motive of our killer. Back to the Celts.’
Tennyson shook his head.
‘Sorry, boss, I don’t buy it,’ he said.
‘You don’t?’ asked Georgiou..
‘No,’ said Tennyson. ‘I think all that does is complicate things unnecessarily. What we’ve got is two women murdered. One old, one young, but both women. That’s the common link. We’re looking for someone who hates women.’
‘And the heads?’
Tennyson shrugged.
‘OK, maybe he collects them. But not because of anything that happened in history. They’re tokens. Killers and rapists do it all the time, take something from their victims as a memento.’
‘It’s one thing taking a watch or locket or a mobile phone, it’s another thing entirely to cut off someone’s head and take it away,’ said Georgiou. ‘Think about it, Mac. Our killer is
very
methodical. The way he did them, there’s almost a kind of ritual in the way the bodies were hung up.’
‘They were hung up to let the blood drain out.’
‘But the way the wires were tied. Everything exactly the same. It feels like some kind of ritual. What the actual ritual is, or what it’s based on, we don’t yet know, but I thinkwe’re looking for someone who likes ritual. And every ritual has a root in history.’
Tennyson shook his head.
‘Sorry, guv,’ he said. ‘It seems much simpler than that to me. He does it the same way because it works. It’s that simple.’
Georgiou sighed.
‘You may be right,’ he said. ‘Maybe I’m seeing too much into this. Anyway, let’s take a break today. I promised Ted Armstrong I’d go and see him and let him know what we’ve got.’
‘Which is nothing,’ said Tennyson.
‘True,’ admitted Georgiou. ‘But we’re filling in the details. Something will pop up. We’re going to get him, Mac. Trust me.’
ELEVEN
G eorgiou arrived at the large double-fronted house in Stanwix, where the Armstrongs lived, just after six. His ring at the doorbell was answered by Ted Armstrong. The man looked deathly pale, as if the blood had been drained out of him and only about half the amount had been put back. There were deep lines on his face, grey shadows beneath his eyes.
‘What have you got?’ he asked.
‘Not a lot at the moment,’ said Georgiou. ‘Is this a bad time? Maybe if I came back later?’
‘It’s always going to be a bad time from now on,’ said Armstrong.
He opened the door wider and Georgiou stepped in.
Sophie Armstrong was sitting on a settee as Georgiou followed Ted Armstrong into the large palatial living room. It had a gold look to it. Gold ornaments on shelves and hanging on the walls, among the
‘But if a Reiver was caught, he was executed?’ asked Georgiou.
‘On rare occasions,’ agreed Moody. ‘Generally the officers of the law ransomed them back to their families. Most law officers at that time were as crooked as the thieves they were supposed to catch.’
‘But if they were executed,’ persisted Georgiou, ‘how was it done? I remember that Henry VIII had the heads of his wives chopped off. And Mary Queen of Scots was also executed the same way. Did that happen to the Reivers who were executed?’
Moody shook her head.
‘Execution by axe was for the upper classes only,’ she said. ‘Criminals, and that certainly included the Reivers, was by hanging.’
As Georgiou and Tennyson walked back to their car, Tennyson broke into a chuckle.
‘What a history lesson!’ he laughed. ‘I learnt more in twenty minutes with her than I did all the time I was at school.’
‘But does it help us?’ asked Georgiou. ‘If she’s right, we have to go even further back in history than the Border Reivers to find the motive of our killer. Back to the Celts.’
Tennyson shook his head.
‘Sorry, boss, I don’t buy it,’ he said.
‘You don’t?’ asked Georgiou..
‘No,’ said Tennyson. ‘I think all that does is complicate things unnecessarily. What we’ve got is two women murdered. One old, one young, but both women. That’s the common link. We’re looking for someone who hates women.’
‘And the heads?’
Tennyson shrugged.
‘OK, maybe he collects them. But not because of anything that happened in history. They’re tokens. Killers and rapists do it all the time, take something from their victims as a memento.’
‘It’s one thing taking a watch or locket or a mobile phone, it’s another thing entirely to cut off someone’s head and take it away,’ said Georgiou. ‘Think about it, Mac. Our killer is
very
methodical. The way he did them, there’s almost a kind of ritual in the way the bodies were hung up.’
‘They were hung up to let the blood drain out.’
‘But the way the wires were tied. Everything exactly the same. It feels like some kind of ritual. What the actual ritual is, or what it’s based on, we don’t yet know, but I thinkwe’re looking for someone who likes ritual. And every ritual has a root in history.’
Tennyson shook his head.
‘Sorry, guv,’ he said. ‘It seems much simpler than that to me. He does it the same way because it works. It’s that simple.’
Georgiou sighed.
‘You may be right,’ he said. ‘Maybe I’m seeing too much into this. Anyway, let’s take a break today. I promised Ted Armstrong I’d go and see him and let him know what we’ve got.’
‘Which is nothing,’ said Tennyson.
‘True,’ admitted Georgiou. ‘But we’re filling in the details. Something will pop up. We’re going to get him, Mac. Trust me.’
ELEVEN
G eorgiou arrived at the large double-fronted house in Stanwix, where the Armstrongs lived, just after six. His ring at the doorbell was answered by Ted Armstrong. The man looked deathly pale, as if the blood had been drained out of him and only about half the amount had been put back. There were deep lines on his face, grey shadows beneath his eyes.
‘What have you got?’ he asked.
‘Not a lot at the moment,’ said Georgiou. ‘Is this a bad time? Maybe if I came back later?’
‘It’s always going to be a bad time from now on,’ said Armstrong.
He opened the door wider and Georgiou stepped in.
Sophie Armstrong was sitting on a settee as Georgiou followed Ted Armstrong into the large palatial living room. It had a gold look to it. Gold ornaments on shelves and hanging on the walls, among the
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