Read Online Relentless by Simon Kernick - Free Book Online

why
    eo
he'd been attacked and probably murdered before the call was
completed. And why a man in a balaclava had attacked me with
a bloodstained knife in the politics department of the university
where my wife worked.
The door to the interview room opened and a pleasant
looking fat man of about fifty with shoulder-length grey hair that
was so thick it could have contained buried treasure came into
the room. He was wearing horn-rimmed glasses, a navy-blue
pinstripe suit, complete with a waistcoat that stretched and
strained over his ample belly, and a smile that was the first I'd
seen in a while. His features were soft, his face curiously
owl-like, and in one dainty hand that had clearly never been
sullied by manual work, he carried a battered leather briefcase
which looked as if a pack of dogs had been at it. He banged it
down on the table and thrust out a hand.
    'Mr Meron,' he said in a lilting Scottish baritone that could
have used a bigger audience, peering at me over his glasses. 'I'm
Douglas McFee, the duty solicitor. I understand you requested
my help.'
I stood up and took the proffered hand, surprised that the
palm was lined with sweat. 'Thank you for coming. I think I'm
going to need it.'
Douglas McFee smiled again and sat down opposite me. He
put the briefcase on the floor and placed his elbows on the table
and his hands together, as if in prayer, the tips of his fingers
stroking his bottom lip. His expression was surprisingly intense,
; et at the same time it remained amiable.
; 'Now,' he continued, 'why don't you tell me how you came to
be arrested running down the street very close to a murder
scene, distressed and bleeding from several cuts?'
'Before I tell you anything, can you tell me if my wife's OK? If
    she's the person I'm meant to have murdered . . .' I trailed off,
not sure what else to say.
He gave me a sympathetic smile. The sight of it made me want
to weep. Did someone at last believe me? 'I think I can put your
mind at rest there,' he said.
I felt a rush of relief. 'Really? It's not her?'
He shook his head. 'No, the woman the police suspect you
murdered is not your wife. Her name is, or more accurately was,
Vanessa Blake.'
Relief was now mixed with shock. 'Vanessa?'
'You know her?'
'Yes, I do. She's a politics lecturer at the university. Like
Kathy, my wife. She's been there for years.'
I'd never liked Vanessa. She was a couple of years younger
than Kathy, attractive in a very severe way, and unequivocally
gay. She didn't like men and made no secret of the fact, and I'd
often thought she'd tried to turn my wife against me. In fact, I
think she'd had a thing for Kathy. And now she was dead. But
I didn't really have time to think about her passing. I was too
relieved for that.
McFee inclined his head solemnly as he delivered the bad
news, recounting it like a particularly enjoyable ghost story. 'Her
body was discovered by a student in an adjoining room to the
library where you encountered the masked man who attacked
you with the knife. She'd been stabbed repeatedly. The student
was naturally very shocked, but she was able to call the police.
This must have been only minutes after you left the building
because it was officers responding to that initial emergency call
who arrested you.'
I put my head in my hands and took several deep breaths
before re-emerging. The wound on my jawline suddenly started
    throbbing. 'Thank God Kathy's all right. It's terrible about
Vanessa, she was a good person, but I'm glad it was her and not
Kathy. I know that sounds terrible, but you know what I mean?
Are you married, Mr McFee?'
'I have a long-term partner so, yes, I understand what you're
saying.'
'Jesus, I've been so scared.'
'That's the good news,' said McFee, who had a habit of
speaking very slowly, 'if good news it can be called.'
I stiffened. 'There's bad news?'
'Unfortunately, there is. The murder weapon, a filleting knife
with a six-inch blade, was recovered at the scene.'
I was finding it difficult to breathe.