Read Online Echoes Through the Mist: A Paranormal Mystery (The Echoes Quartet Book 1) by K. Francis Ryan - Free Book Online
Authors: K. Francis Ryan
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emotional day. Yeah, something like that,” Julian thought to himself.
***
The police station was the sturdiest building in Cappel Vale. Solid, square, and made of a gray-green stone, it was of obvious government design. The words Garda Síochána were picked out in gold on a finely finished board painted black. A flagstone path led to the building’s only door.
He knocked and when his knock was met with silence, he opened the door. The single room was remarkably spacious. Three cells stood to his left. One of the cells had its door removed and had been curtained off from the adjoining cells to make sleeping quarters, presumably for the local constabulary. The sleeping area was furnished with a chair, a bench at the foot of a full sized bed and a dresser. There was a modern bathroom beyond. Against the far wall in the main room there was a large stone fireplace.
A desk of utilitarian design and Government issue sat nearly in the middle of the room. A nameplate on the desk announced “Desk Sergeant.”
In front of the fireplace sat two new rocking chairs separated by a low table. The fireplace had never been used and the entire room was free of dust of any kind. It wasn’t so much that the room was empty; it was as though it was waiting someone’s arrival.
Julian sat in the desk sergeant’s chair and could see clearly up and down the main street by turning his head slightly and looking through the windows on either side of the front door. He had left the front door open to announce his presence to any and all passers-by.
***
“He is a strange one to be sure.”
“Is that a bad sign? Bad for us? A good sign then? I thought you could tell when, well, you know…” the Mayor said.
“Tell? There was a time I could. But that was one of the first things I lost. Too soon to tell about much, but have a care. That one, it is lost he is right now, but when he finds his way that will be a different matter,” said the Hagan. “He is capable. No special talent needed to see that.”
“Capable of much good or much bad?” the Mayor asked.
“We shall see. Good I think. He is stumbling right now and so, likely to knock things over in his clumsiness,” the Hagan answered. She looked and felt tired.
Julian had been preoccupied by the Hagan’s pronounced sharp features and her pale gray eyes, but now in the kerosene light without the shawl over her head, she was a woman out of the ordinary.
Unruly hair combined with ivory skin to imbue her with a sensuousness that was at odds with her stern and startling bearing. She was possessed of an intelligence no one would dare doubt and a type of beauty no one could explain.
“We’ll just have to keep an eye on him, won’t we?” the mayor said.
The Hagan continued with a statement of fact. “What do you know about anything? You’re drunk.”
“Oi am always drunk. Oi can’t remember a time when Oi was ever fully sober. Saints above, what a world it would be if Oi ever had to be completely sober. Life wouldn’t be worth living. Oi suppose Oi should go see him.”
“Let him stew awhile. I have some thinking to do so sit and eat your oatmeal. I’m hoping the raisins I put in it may absorb some of that alcohol.”
“Oatmeal is it? Oatmeal you may call it but I know what is really in your heart, woman. You’ll be the death of me with all your rapacious demands, but Oi suppose you can’t help yourself. The power of me office is a potent aphrodisiac.”
“Shut up you old fool,” Moira Hagan said. “If they were giving you away with free mackerel for life there’s no one who’d have the offering. I’ve put up with you as a friend for over thirty years. Count yourself lucky.” She smiled and a softening came into her face and eyes.
Chapter Six
Shadows lengthened as late afternoon turned to twilight. Groups of men entered the town talking in the subdued voices of men who had put in a full day’s labor. These were workingmen for whom there was seldom any
***
The police station was the sturdiest building in Cappel Vale. Solid, square, and made of a gray-green stone, it was of obvious government design. The words Garda Síochána were picked out in gold on a finely finished board painted black. A flagstone path led to the building’s only door.
He knocked and when his knock was met with silence, he opened the door. The single room was remarkably spacious. Three cells stood to his left. One of the cells had its door removed and had been curtained off from the adjoining cells to make sleeping quarters, presumably for the local constabulary. The sleeping area was furnished with a chair, a bench at the foot of a full sized bed and a dresser. There was a modern bathroom beyond. Against the far wall in the main room there was a large stone fireplace.
A desk of utilitarian design and Government issue sat nearly in the middle of the room. A nameplate on the desk announced “Desk Sergeant.”
In front of the fireplace sat two new rocking chairs separated by a low table. The fireplace had never been used and the entire room was free of dust of any kind. It wasn’t so much that the room was empty; it was as though it was waiting someone’s arrival.
Julian sat in the desk sergeant’s chair and could see clearly up and down the main street by turning his head slightly and looking through the windows on either side of the front door. He had left the front door open to announce his presence to any and all passers-by.
***
“He is a strange one to be sure.”
“Is that a bad sign? Bad for us? A good sign then? I thought you could tell when, well, you know…” the Mayor said.
“Tell? There was a time I could. But that was one of the first things I lost. Too soon to tell about much, but have a care. That one, it is lost he is right now, but when he finds his way that will be a different matter,” said the Hagan. “He is capable. No special talent needed to see that.”
“Capable of much good or much bad?” the Mayor asked.
“We shall see. Good I think. He is stumbling right now and so, likely to knock things over in his clumsiness,” the Hagan answered. She looked and felt tired.
Julian had been preoccupied by the Hagan’s pronounced sharp features and her pale gray eyes, but now in the kerosene light without the shawl over her head, she was a woman out of the ordinary.
Unruly hair combined with ivory skin to imbue her with a sensuousness that was at odds with her stern and startling bearing. She was possessed of an intelligence no one would dare doubt and a type of beauty no one could explain.
“We’ll just have to keep an eye on him, won’t we?” the mayor said.
The Hagan continued with a statement of fact. “What do you know about anything? You’re drunk.”
“Oi am always drunk. Oi can’t remember a time when Oi was ever fully sober. Saints above, what a world it would be if Oi ever had to be completely sober. Life wouldn’t be worth living. Oi suppose Oi should go see him.”
“Let him stew awhile. I have some thinking to do so sit and eat your oatmeal. I’m hoping the raisins I put in it may absorb some of that alcohol.”
“Oatmeal is it? Oatmeal you may call it but I know what is really in your heart, woman. You’ll be the death of me with all your rapacious demands, but Oi suppose you can’t help yourself. The power of me office is a potent aphrodisiac.”
“Shut up you old fool,” Moira Hagan said. “If they were giving you away with free mackerel for life there’s no one who’d have the offering. I’ve put up with you as a friend for over thirty years. Count yourself lucky.” She smiled and a softening came into her face and eyes.
Chapter Six
Shadows lengthened as late afternoon turned to twilight. Groups of men entered the town talking in the subdued voices of men who had put in a full day’s labor. These were workingmen for whom there was seldom any
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