Read Online The Death Collector by Justin Richards - Free Book Online Page B

Lorimore, and told her of the strange reply he had received.
    â€˜So you determined to go and see the man?’ she asked him.
    George nodded. He was feeling rather parched and asked her if she wanted more tea.
    But in reply, her hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh my goodness, look at the time,’ she cried nodding at the clock on the far wall. ‘I am supposed to be taking my father to visit his former parishioners this afternoon. He will be so cross if I am late.’ She took a final, swift sip of cold tea, grimaced, gathered her bag, and stood up. ‘He can’t manage on his own. He needs me to help him with almost everything these days, I’m afraid.’
    â€˜That must be a burden,’ George said, standing up.
    She frowned. ‘I suppose so,’ she said quietly, as if the thought had never occurred to her. ‘But I must know how your story ends.’
    â€˜If it has ended,’ George replied. ‘We could meet here again. Tomorrow perhaps?’
    â€˜I can’t possibly wait that long to hear the rest of your adventures. Why not come to our house?’ she said. ‘Father won’t mind. In fact if you come after eight o’clock this evening he won’t even know – he needs his sleep. Oh, but it will all be quite proper, I assure you, Mr Archer,’ she quickly added. ‘I mean …’
    â€˜I know what you mean,’ he said. ‘And I should be delighted to call on you and finish my story, so far as it goes. I have your address from your letter. But I mustnot keep you, Miss Oldfield, though I do have one small request.’
    She glanced at the clock again and frowned. ‘Yes?’
    â€˜My friends call me George.’
    She regarded him sternly for a moment. Then she smiled. ‘Very well, George it is. My name is Elizabeth.’
    â€˜May I call you Elizabeth?’
    â€˜No,’ she said in a matter of fact voice as she walked past him and headed for the door. She paused and turned. ‘But you may call me Liz. I shall see you this evening, George.’
    Only after he had sat down, his head swimming with visions of Elizabeth Oldfield’s smile and the anticipation of seeing her again did it occur to George that his recently returned wallet was empty. He had no money at all.
    Feeling foolish and anxious, he finally summoned the courage to gesture to the waitress who had served them as she walked past. ‘Excuse me, but about the bill …’
    â€˜That’s all right, sir.’ She barely paused on her way to another customer. ‘The young lady paid on her way out.’

    They grabbed him as he was working the side streets near Kensington Gardens. It was a good place to finish up the day, and as night fell Eddie often found usefulpickings in the area as people hurried home. That was how the two men knew he would be there, of course. Someone who knew Eddie’s routine, such as it was, had told them – Smudgy Steve or Mike the Mouth. Possibly little Annie from the baker’s who sometimes gave him one of yesterday’s rolls.
    The first Eddie knew of anything amiss was when a pair of enormous arms wrapped themselves round him from behind and pulled him backwards. He kicked out at once, shouting and struggling. But one of the arms was positioned so that a huge, sweaty hand clamped over his mouth. Someone else was approaching him, and Eddie’s eyes widened. He hoped they would realise he was in trouble – help him or raise the alarm.
    The street was in shadow, the sun already below the level of the buildings. The lamps had been lit, and as he approached Eddie, his potential rescuer’s face caught the light. The man was smiling horribly, and Eddie could clearly see the thin, raised scar that ran down the whole side of his face. Scarface – the man who had been shadowing the old man Eddie had tried to help.
    â€˜I thought it might be you, from the description we were given,’ Scarface