Read Online The Calling of the Grave by Simon Beckett - Free Book Online

slipped and almost fell. The
archaeologist snapped a curt 'I'm all right' when I reached out to steady him.
Even Monk seemed to be having difficulties, his balance hampered by having his
hands cuffed together.
        Except
for his solicitor, the civilians - Wainwright, Sophie and myself - stayed a
little way away from the group surrounding the convict, a token concession to
our instructions not to approach. We'd been joined by a cadaver dog and its
handler. The springer spaniel was trained to sniff out even the faintest taint
of gases produced by decomposition, but first we had to find a grave. And Monk
seemed in no hurry to help us with that.
        Flanked
by the two guards, he stared down at the shallow pit where Tina Williams had
been buried, lips curled in his habitual sneer as though at some private joke.
But I'd come to realize that it was just the natural set of his mouth: it bore
no more relation to whatever thoughts went on behind those button eyes than the
sickle grin of a shark.
        'Bring
back memories, Monk?' Terry asked.
        There
was no response. The convict could have been carved from the same granite as
the rocks of Black Tor for all the notice he took.
        The
bearded guard prodded him. 'You heard the man, laughing boy.'
        'Keep
your fucking hands to yourself,' Monk grated without looking round.
        His
solicitor gave an exaggerated sigh as the guard bridled. 'I'm sure I don't have
to remind anyone that my client is here voluntarily. If he's going to be
subjected to harassment we can call this off now.'
        'Nobody's
harassing anyone.' Terry's shoulders were hunched, but not from the rain:
tension snapped from him like static electricity. 'It was your
"client" who wanted to come out here. I'm entitled to ask why.'
        Dobbs's
wispy hair flapped in the wind, giving him the look of an irate baby bird. The
solicitor still had his briefcase. I wondered if it contained anything
important or whether he just carried it out of habit.
        'The
terms of my client's release clearly stipulate he's here to assist in locating
the graves of Zoe and Lindsey Bennett, and nothing more. If you wish to
question him about anything else we can return to the prison so you can conduct
a formal interview in the proper environment.'
        'Yeah,
whatever.' Terry didn't try to hide his disgust. 'Time's up, Monk. You've done
enough sightseeing. Now tell us where the other graves are, or you can go back
to your cell.'
        Monk
raised his eyes from the pit and stared out across the moor. His restraints
chinked as he raised his hands and rubbed them over his skull.
        'Over
there.'
        Everyone
looked where he'd indicated. It was even further away from the road and track.
Except for occasional smaller outcrops of rock or islands of gorse, there was
nothing to see except a featureless plain of heather and grass.
        'Whereabouts?'
Terry asked.
        'I
told you. Over there.'
        'They're
not near where you buried Tina Williams?'
        'I
never said they were.'
        'Then
what the hell did you bring us out here for?'
        The look
in Monk's black eyes was impossible to decipher. 'I wanted to see.'
        Terry's
jaw muscles bunched. I'd never seen him so edgy, but he couldn't afford to lose
his temper now I wished Lucas was there. The older man was a calming presence,
and it was becoming obvious that Terry was getting out of his depth.
        'How
far away?' Terry asked, making a visible effort to restrain himself. 'Fifty
yards? A hundred? Half a mile?'
        'I'll
know when I get there.'
        'Can
you remember any landmarks nearby?' Sophie asked quickly. Annoyance flickered
across Terry's face, but he didn't interrupt. 'A big rock, a clump of gorse,
anything like that?'
        Monk
looked at her. 'Can't remember.'
        Wainwright
gave a disdainful sniff. 'Hardly the sort of thing one would forget, I'd
think.'
        Again,
the