Read Online Simeon's Bride by Alison G. Taylor - Free Book Online
Authors: Alison G. Taylor
Tags: Mystery
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Patiently and carefully, the soil was brushed away, pushed into heaps well away from the body. Bits of fabric came with it, shreds of some thick cotton, bereft of any colour. Jack stood with Dr Roberts, watching and waiting.
‘What’s wrong with your boss these days?’ Roberts asked. ‘He’s always been one to speak his mind, but he’s really on a short fuse at the moment. Give himself a heart attack if he’s not careful. Trouble with that flighty wife of his, is it?’
‘Denise? Flighty?’ Jack asked. ‘Plain bored, more likely.’
‘Well, happen you don’t know her so well.’ Dr Roberts chewed his lower lip. ‘Flighty and frivolous, our Denise. Takes after her mother in that way. Not right for McKenna at all. Too shallow. He needs a woman with a bit of bite to her.’ He paused. ‘A woman with fire in her belly, like him. There’s the heat of a lot of passions in that man, Jack.’
‘Well, it doesn’t give off much warmth for others most of the time,’ Jack commented.
Eifion Roberts stared. ‘It won’t, will it, with only Denise for company,’ he said. ‘It’ll just burn up McKenna to a cinder. I reckon it’s the end of the road for those two.’ The pathologist peered over the side of the trench. ‘Best thing, too, if you want my opinion. That marriage was doomed from the start. Denise only married him because he was a good catch, so she could climb up the social ladder on his back.’
‘McKenna’s not exactly socially prominent,’ Jack said.
‘That’s the trouble, isn’t it? Denise thought she’d be getting something she wanted, and now things aren’t going her way, she wants out. You mark my words, Jack,’ the doctor went on, walking forward to look properly over the lip of the trench, ‘within six months or so, our Denise’ll have found herself somebody more to her liking. Golf-club type, with a fancy house and big posh car. I’ll put money on it.’
McKenna sent Wil and Dave home, taking the keys to Gallows Cottage. Night cloud gathered in the east, drawing a blanket over the day, as he made his way back to the trench, and stood with Jack and Eifion Roberts as more and more of the body was exhumed from its resting place. A drift of woodsmoke scented the dusky air, gulls screamed, a flock ofbirds streamed out over the sea to their night’s roost on Puffin Island. Save for the slither of soil against shovel, the heavy breathing of the four men in the trench, the gardens of Gallows Cottage lay swaddled in silence. McKenna heard a noise behind him, a crepitation of leaves, and turned. A figure slid from view into the woods, the figure of a man, garbed in a white flowing shirt, long dark hair framing a thin, sallow face. McKenna made as if to call out, but when he looked properly, there was no one there.
‘SHIT!’
Dr Roberts plunged forward. ‘What is it? What’ve you done?’
The four men in the trench stood pressed against its far side, watching as earth cascaded, bringing the body with it. She fell out of her grave at their feet, a small pathetic thing, and rolled on to her side, coming to rest with her head against Dewi’s boots. Her neck was stretched and thin, the head pulled hard to one side by the remnants of noose and rope. Her hands were behind her back, their fingers clenched and clawed. A thick strap bound her wrists, and began to crack and crumble to powder as they watched.
‘1793. I’m answering your question, McKenna. She’s been here since 1793, or thereabouts.’ Dr Roberts knelt by the body, looking up.
‘How can you possibly know that?’ McKenna demanded. ‘If you can’t tell us how many months the other one’s been hanging around, how can you possibly say how many years this one’s been here?’
Dr Roberts stood up, brushing soil from the knees of his trousers. He climbed out of the trench, assisted by Jack. ‘It’s Rebekah, listed on official documents as “Wife of Simeon the Jew”. Close your mouth, Michael!’ he said. ‘You’ll
‘What’s wrong with your boss these days?’ Roberts asked. ‘He’s always been one to speak his mind, but he’s really on a short fuse at the moment. Give himself a heart attack if he’s not careful. Trouble with that flighty wife of his, is it?’
‘Denise? Flighty?’ Jack asked. ‘Plain bored, more likely.’
‘Well, happen you don’t know her so well.’ Dr Roberts chewed his lower lip. ‘Flighty and frivolous, our Denise. Takes after her mother in that way. Not right for McKenna at all. Too shallow. He needs a woman with a bit of bite to her.’ He paused. ‘A woman with fire in her belly, like him. There’s the heat of a lot of passions in that man, Jack.’
‘Well, it doesn’t give off much warmth for others most of the time,’ Jack commented.
Eifion Roberts stared. ‘It won’t, will it, with only Denise for company,’ he said. ‘It’ll just burn up McKenna to a cinder. I reckon it’s the end of the road for those two.’ The pathologist peered over the side of the trench. ‘Best thing, too, if you want my opinion. That marriage was doomed from the start. Denise only married him because he was a good catch, so she could climb up the social ladder on his back.’
‘McKenna’s not exactly socially prominent,’ Jack said.
‘That’s the trouble, isn’t it? Denise thought she’d be getting something she wanted, and now things aren’t going her way, she wants out. You mark my words, Jack,’ the doctor went on, walking forward to look properly over the lip of the trench, ‘within six months or so, our Denise’ll have found herself somebody more to her liking. Golf-club type, with a fancy house and big posh car. I’ll put money on it.’
McKenna sent Wil and Dave home, taking the keys to Gallows Cottage. Night cloud gathered in the east, drawing a blanket over the day, as he made his way back to the trench, and stood with Jack and Eifion Roberts as more and more of the body was exhumed from its resting place. A drift of woodsmoke scented the dusky air, gulls screamed, a flock ofbirds streamed out over the sea to their night’s roost on Puffin Island. Save for the slither of soil against shovel, the heavy breathing of the four men in the trench, the gardens of Gallows Cottage lay swaddled in silence. McKenna heard a noise behind him, a crepitation of leaves, and turned. A figure slid from view into the woods, the figure of a man, garbed in a white flowing shirt, long dark hair framing a thin, sallow face. McKenna made as if to call out, but when he looked properly, there was no one there.
‘SHIT!’
Dr Roberts plunged forward. ‘What is it? What’ve you done?’
The four men in the trench stood pressed against its far side, watching as earth cascaded, bringing the body with it. She fell out of her grave at their feet, a small pathetic thing, and rolled on to her side, coming to rest with her head against Dewi’s boots. Her neck was stretched and thin, the head pulled hard to one side by the remnants of noose and rope. Her hands were behind her back, their fingers clenched and clawed. A thick strap bound her wrists, and began to crack and crumble to powder as they watched.
‘1793. I’m answering your question, McKenna. She’s been here since 1793, or thereabouts.’ Dr Roberts knelt by the body, looking up.
‘How can you possibly know that?’ McKenna demanded. ‘If you can’t tell us how many months the other one’s been hanging around, how can you possibly say how many years this one’s been here?’
Dr Roberts stood up, brushing soil from the knees of his trousers. He climbed out of the trench, assisted by Jack. ‘It’s Rebekah, listed on official documents as “Wife of Simeon the Jew”. Close your mouth, Michael!’ he said. ‘You’ll
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