Sins of the Fathers

Read Online Sins of the Fathers by Ruth Rendell - Free Book Online Page B

Book: Sins of the Fathers by Ruth Rendell Read Free Book Online
Authors: Ruth Rendell
Ads: Link
him away?" asked Burden.
    The doctor was laconic. "He's had it." He knelt down, felt the left wrist and got up again, wiping blood from his fingers. "I'd hazard a guess the spine's gone and he's ruptured his liver. The thing is he's still more or less conscious and it'd be hell's own agony to try to shift him."
    "Poor devil. What happened? Did anybody see it?"
    His eye roved across the knot of middle-aged women in cotton dresses, late homegoing commuters and courting couples on their evening stroll. The last of the sun smiled gently on their faces and on the blood that gilded the black and white crossing. Burden knew that Mini. He knew the stupid sign in the rear window that showed a skull and the words: You have been Mini-ed. It had never been funny and now it was outrageous, cruel in the way it mocked the man in the road.
    A girl lay sprawled over the steering wheel. Her hair was short, black and spiky, and she had thrust her fingers through it in despair or remorse. The long red nails stuck out like bright feathers.
    "Don't worry about her," said the doctor contemptuously. "She's not hurt."
    "You, madam..." Burden picked out the calmest and least excited looking of the bystanders. "Did you happen to see the accident?"
    "Ooh, it was awful! Like a beast she was, the little bitch. Must have been doing a hundred miles an hour."
    Picked a right one there, thought Burden. He turned to a white-faced man holding a sealyham on a lead. "Perhaps you can help me, sir?"
    The lead was jerked and the sealyham sat down at the kerb.
    "That gentleman..." Blanching afresh, he pointed towards the crumpled thing lying on the stripes. "He looked right and left like you're supposed to. Bui there was nothing coming. You can't see all that well on account of the bridge."
    "Yes, yes. I get the picture."
    "Well, he started to cross to the island like, when that white car came up out of nowhere. Going like a mad thing she was. Well, not a hundred, but sixty, I reckon. Those Minis can go at a terrible lick when they've had their engines hotted up. He sort of hesitated and then he tried to go back. You know, it was all in a flash. I can't rightly go into details."
    "You're doing very well."
    "Then the car got him. Oh, the driver slammed on her brakes for all she was worth. I'll never forget the noise to my dying day, what with the brakes screaming and him screaming too, and sort of throwing up his arms and going down like a ninepin."
    Burden set a constable to take names and addresses, turned away and took a step in the direction of the white car. A woman touched his arm.
    "Here," she said, "he wants a priest or something. He kept on asking before you came. Get me Father Chiverton, he says, like he knew he was going."
    "That right?" said Burden sharply to Dr. Crocker.
    Crocker nodded. The dying man was covered now, a folded mac under his head, two policemen's jackets across his body. "Father Chiverton is what he said. Frankly, I was more concerned for his physical than his spiritual welfare."
    "R.C. then, is he?"
    "God, no. Bunch of atheists, you cops are. Chiverton's the new vicar here. Don't you ever read the local rag?"
    "Father?"
    "He's very high. Genuflecting and Sung Eucharist and all that jazz." The doctor coughed. "I'm a Congregationalist myself."
    Burden walked over to the crossing. The man's face was blanched a yellowish ivory, but his eyes were open and they stared back. With a little shock Burden realised he was young, perhaps no more than twenty.
    "Anything you want, old chap?" He knew the doctor had given him a pain-killing injection. With his own bent body he shielded him from the watchers. "We'll get you away from here in a minute." He lied. "Anything we can get you?"
    "Father Chiverton..." it was a toneless whisper, as detached and inhuman as a puff of wind. "Father Chiverton..." A spasm crossed the waning face. "Confess ... atone ... spare Thou them which are penitent."
    "Bloody religion," said the doctor. "Can't even let a man die in

Similar Books

Protecting Summer

Susan Stoker

The Secret Dog

Joe Friedman

Mr. Jaguar

K.A. Merikan

Aries Rising

Bonnie Hearn Hill

Dial L for Loser

Lisi Harrison