Read Online Hell's Horizon by Darren Shan - Free Book Online

it?”
    “Not really. People react to death in all sorts of ways. Very few weep openly in front of the police.
    “Apart from those two, I can’t help you. I might know more in a day or two but right now we’re struggling to get inside her head. Nic kept her personal life to herself. In fact, if you haven’t any objections, I’d like to hear what you have to say about her.”
    We ordered another round of orange juices and I ran Bill through my time with Nic. Toward the end of our talk he returned to the topic of detective work and honored me with some much-needed advice.
    I shouldn’t bother with bugs—such technology was for the professionals. He told me to be honest when interviewing people, tell them who I was and why I was interested in Nicola. “That way they’ll have sympathy for you and may be more inclined to talk. If you pretend to be a real detective, they’ll see through you and close up shop.”
    He stressed the importance of keeping things simple. “Don’t weave webs of intrigue. Murder’s not a complicated business. If you start building up networks of suspects and theories, you’ll chase your tail into madness. Take people at their word. Turn a blind eye to conspiracies. Look to narrow your options. Jump to no conclusions, especially dire ones.”
    I listened intently, filing his words away.
    We parted with a handshake and a smile. If Bill had grave misgivings about my getting involved, he kept them to himself. Told me to call if I needed help or ran into a blank wall. I promised to let him know if I discovered anything.
    I cycled back to Party Central and flicked through the file one more time. The moment had come to take my first step. I probably should have heeded Bill’s advice and waited a few days before interviewing those close to Nic. But, keeping Frank’s motto in mind, I decided to strike fast, figuring people in mourning might reveal more than they would when composed. I grabbed my bike, tucked my pen and notebook away and set off for the twisting maze of city streets beyond the gate. As I cycled into the wind, a cliché whistled through my thoughts, and I grinned—Al Jeery was on the case!

6

    I called on her brother first. Nic had never told me much about him, apart from his name, Nick, which was confusingly similar to her own. Nicholas and Nicola, but both had used the abbreviations since childhood, prompted by their father, who had a peculiar sense of humor. I’d asked why they let the arrangement stand now that he was dead. She said neither wanted to change. She liked Nic and he liked Nick. Besides, they didn’t see a lot of each other, so it wasn’t that big an issue.
    He was twenty-nine, three years older than Nic. He had inherited the bulk of the estate when their parents died and was to have been Nic’s financial guardian until she turned thirty, whereupon she could have drawn from her share of the funds as she pleased. He had no head for business but he spent conservatively—he hadn’t frittered the family fortune away and there was a sizable amount left in the kitty.
    The two weren’t close, but there didn’t seem to be any bad blood between them. They just didn’t have much in common. Or, to put it another way, they had too much in common—as well as sharing names, they also shared a taste in men. Nick Hornyak was, as the file succinctly phrased it, “bent as a eunuch.”
    Nick lived in the family mansion in the suburbs. An architectural monstrosity, oozing old money. It had been Nic’s home too, though she’d hardly spent more than a few months there in the last several years of her life.
    The butler wasn’t impressed when he saw my bike leaning against one of the pillars. “Deliveries to the rear,” he said snootily, and I had to jam my foot in the door to buy the time necessary to explain who I was and why I was there.
    Master Nick, he informed me, was not at home and not expected back any time soon. He didn’t answer when I asked where I could find