Read Online House of Bones by Graham Masterton - Free Book Online Page A

hadn’t realized that.”
    â€œNumber 7, Laverdale Square,” said Courtney. “The council bought it because they wanted to widen the road. Don’t you remember? Mr Vane was in a terrible temper about it for weeks.”
    â€œYou’re not trying to say that
he
killed all of those people?” said Lucy. “I know he’s a bit scary, but he doesn’t look like a mass murderer.”
    â€œI think he looks
exactly
like a mass murderer,” said Liam.
    John said, “I went into his office and I copied out the whole of the special list. I think we ought to go and look at some of the other houses.”
    â€œOh, come on,” said Courtney. “If Mr Vane had anything to hide, he would have kept the list and the keys locked up in the safe.”
    â€œPerhaps he didn’t think that anybody would ever suspect him,” said Lucy. “I mean, those skeletons were all hidden in the walls, weren’t they? If the council hadn’t knocked the house down, who would have ever found out?”
    â€œIt’s much more likely he didn’t know anything about it,” Courtney replied. “And it’s much more likely that Mr Rogers went into the house, dropped his ring, and then disappeared somewhere else.”
    â€œIf he did that, why did Cleaty lie to the police?”
    â€œI don’t know,” said Courtney, “and I can’t say that I particularly care. This is all a lot of wild speculation, that’s all.”
    â€œI’m still going to go and look at Mr Vane’s other houses,” John declared. “There’s one in Brighton – 93 Madeira Terrace. I’ll go down on Saturday.”
    â€œWell, there’s a coincidence,” said Liam. “I’m going to Brighton for the racing on Saturday afternoon. We could go down together.”
    â€œThat would be
great
,” said John.
    â€œDon’t let Liam persuade you to put any money on the horses,” Courtney warned him. “You’ll end up bankrupt before you’ve even earned anything.”
    They sped down to Brighton early on Saturday morning in Liam’s Golf GTi. The sun was shining and it was warm enough to drive with the roof down. John had borrowed a pair of sunglasses from his sister Ruth which pinched his nose. He felt scruffy. He wished he had a black polo shirt and a pair of chinos like Liam, instead of his grey, washed-out jeans and his saggy maroon top. But his spirits lifted as they drove up over the South Downs, through Devil’s Dyke, and he could see the farms and fields of mid-Sussex spread out behind him, and the English Channel glittering in front.
    They drove along the seafront, past the Palace Pier, and along Marine Parade. John felt almost as ifhe were on holiday. “Should have brought our buckets and spades,” said Liam, cheerfully.
    Madeira Terrace was a dark, steep street on the borders of Hove, and out of sight of the sea. It was lined on both sides with narrow, four-storey terraced houses, built of hard red brick. Each house had a small walled garden in front, but very few of them were well tended. Most of them were cluttered with broken bicycles and bent dustbins and crumpled newspapers. Liam parked in front of a Dormobile with flat tyres and tugged on the handbrake hard. “This is it. Number 93. Looks as if it’s empty.”
    The windows were dark and filmed over with dust. The blue paint on the front door was peeling. There was a small crowd of empty milk bottles on the step, and the letterbox was crammed with circulars.
    John and Liam climbed out of the car and went up to the front door. John pressed the doorbell and heard it buzz faintly like a bluebottle in a jar. They waited, and tried the bell again, but nobody answered.
    â€œRight,” said Liam. “It looks as if we’ll have to try a different approach.”
    â€œWhat do you mean? We can’t break in.”
    â€œOf course we can break