Read Online The Color of Blood by Declan Hughes - Free Book Online Page B

entitlement. Emily put a calming hand on his arm, but he shook it off.
    “If my mother…” he hissed at Emily, then stopped and turned away from us both like a sulky child. Emily looked cautiously at his back, then turned to me.
    “So who were we dealing with?” she said. “Who is this blackmailer?”
    More than likely Brock Taylor, if Tommy Owens wasn’t lying. Always a big if.
    “I don’t know,” I said. “Someone who still has both films in his possession. Someone who wants to put the bite on your father, and is likely to come back for more. Someone we can’t rule out for David Brady’s murder.”
    “Are the Guards going to find the films on DB’s computer?”
    “Not now,” I said.
    “So we’re not connected to that?”
    “As long as they don’t send the hard drive for technical examination. But if they don’t come up with a suspect fast, that’s what they’ll probably do. They’ve found a person who’s been beaten and stabbed to death. They’ll pull out all the stops to find his killer.”
    Emily’s eyes suddenly filled with tears. She looked up to the ceiling, as if gravity might stem their flow, but they overspilled.
    “Beaten and stabbed to death,” she said. “Oh Jesus, this is such a fucking nightmare. Poor David. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe it.”
    She cried for a long time, her legs drawn to her chest, howls that dwindled into sobs. Eventually Jonathan climbed down off his perch and put his long skinny arms around her and they clung together on the sofa. It was pitiful to watch, but it was also a relief: one of the first signs either had exhibited of a normal human emotion.
    There didn’t seem a lot more I could do here. Denis Finnegan’s card had his home number added in ink; I went out into the hall and rang it, and a Filipina or Latin American voice answered.
    “Sandra Howard, please,” I said.
    “Who is calling?”
    “My name is Ed Loy. I’m calling about Ms. Howard’s son and her niece.”
    I heard muffled voices in the background, then a crisp, tense Irish voice came on.
    “Mr. Loy, this is Sandra Howard.”
    “I’m a private detective, Ms. Howard. Your brother hired me to find Emily, and I have; she’s here in Bayview, in your sister-in-law’s house. Your son is with her, but Shane’s not here. I don’t think they should be alone now.”
    “Don’t let them leave. I’ll be there in minutes.”
    Fifteen of them, in fact; on the sofa, the kids sat in the dark, huddled together, asking for nothing. I paced the hall, smoking. The knock came on the door and a tall, green-eyed woman with a black cowl hood over her dark red hair stood in the porch, silhouetted in the shimmer of the approach light; out in the bay behind her, fireworks flashed and crackled, sending plumes of red high in the sky and making her look momentarily like a creature from myth, a rebel angel with red wings or a saint captured in stained glass.
    “Mr. Loy? Sandra Howard,” she said.
    “They’re inside,” I said.
    She walked down the hall and smiled sadly at the sight of Emily and Jonathan curled up together on the couch. Thanking me, she put her cold hand on mine and drew me out to the front of the house, where we stood in the rain and mist, like the last mourners in a deserted churchyard. A volley of bangers crashed out like gunshots; after a hissing silence, the voices of dogs were raised in response; their barking and howling echoed through the hills.
    “Poor dogs,” Sandra Howard said. “Halloween is always a bad night for them.”
    I nodded.
    “Denis told me you were searching for Emily. I hadn’t realized Shane was so worried about her.”
    I nodded again, and told her a little about where I had found her son and her niece, and what they had been doing, and the part David Brady had played in it, and how he had ended up. She took it all in without seeming surprised or ruffled by anything except Brady’s murder. While I waited for her to respond, I looked at her milky