Read Online The Secret House of Death by Ruth Rendell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ruth Rendell
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called flagrante delicto ?
Better not to think about it. Get in, wake them up and go. Susan cared very little what Louise thought of her. She was going to give the Norths a very wide berth in future.
The back door was unlocked. If Louise was going to carry on with this sort of thing, Susan thought, she had a lot to learn. Julian would have made her a good adviser. The kitchen was untidy and freezing cold. Louise had stacked the breakfast things in the washing-up bowl but not washed them. There was a faint smell of cold fat from a water-filled frying-pan.
On the kitchen table stood the briefcase Susan had once or twice seen Louiseâs lover carrying up the path, and over the back of a chair was his raincoat. Susan put her package down and moved into the hall, calling Louiseâs name softly.
There was no answer, no sound from upstairs at all. In the little cloakroom a tap dripped. She came to the foot of the stairs and stood by the wall niche in which a plaster Madonna smiled down at her Child. It was grotesque.
No fires had been lighted in the house this morning and the ashes of yesterdayâs lay grey in the living-room hearth. All the windows streamed with water so that it was impossible to see out of them. Such heavy rain as this enclosed people like hibernating creatures, curled up dry, yet surrounded by walls of water. So it must have been for Louise and her lover, kissing, whispering, planning, while outside the rain fell and blotted out time.
Susan went upstairs. The bathroom door was open and the bathmat, a purple affair with a yellow scroll design in its centre, lay crookedly on the tiles. It looked as if none of the routine morning cleaning had been done. All the bedroom doors but one were open. She stood outside the closed door and listened.
Her reluctance to burst in on them had grown with every step and now she felt a strong revulsion. They might be naked. She put her hand to her forehead and felt a faint dew of sweat. It must be at least ten to one and Bob could be turning the corner of Orchard Drive at this moment.
She grasped the handle and opened the door gradually.
They were both on the bed, but the man appeared to be fully clothed. Only Louiseâs stockinged feet could be seen, for her lover lay spreadeagled across her, his arms and legs flung wide in the attitude of someone crucified on a St Andrewâs Cross. His face was slightly turned as if he had fallen asleep with his lips pressed to Louiseâs cheek. They were both utterly still.
No one slept like that.
Susan came round the side of the bed between it and the dressing table and as she did so she stumbled over something hard and metallic that lay on the carpet. She looked down on it, breathing fast, and at first she thought it was a childâs toy. But the Norths had no little boys to run up and down the stairs, shouting, Bang, bang, youâre dead!
Momentarily she covered her face with her hands. Then she approached the bed and bent over the couple. One of Louiseâs shoulders was exposed. Susan touched it and the manâs head lolled. Where his ear should have been was a neat round hole from which something sticky had run and dried. The movement revealed a mat of blood, liquid and caked, grumming their faces together and smothering the front of Louiseâs nightdress and housecoat.
Susan heard herself cry out. She put her hand up to her mouth and backed away, stumbling, while the floor eddied and rocked beneath her and the furniture swayed.
6
The police asked her to wait there until they came. Susanâs voice had shaken so much on the telephone that she was astonished she had made herself understood. She was almost numb with shock and long after the kind voice had stopped talking and told her to do nothing and to touch nothing, she sat staring at the Madonna while the receiver hung from her hand.
A rushing splash of water at the front of the house announced the arrival of the car. Susan was surprised she
Better not to think about it. Get in, wake them up and go. Susan cared very little what Louise thought of her. She was going to give the Norths a very wide berth in future.
The back door was unlocked. If Louise was going to carry on with this sort of thing, Susan thought, she had a lot to learn. Julian would have made her a good adviser. The kitchen was untidy and freezing cold. Louise had stacked the breakfast things in the washing-up bowl but not washed them. There was a faint smell of cold fat from a water-filled frying-pan.
On the kitchen table stood the briefcase Susan had once or twice seen Louiseâs lover carrying up the path, and over the back of a chair was his raincoat. Susan put her package down and moved into the hall, calling Louiseâs name softly.
There was no answer, no sound from upstairs at all. In the little cloakroom a tap dripped. She came to the foot of the stairs and stood by the wall niche in which a plaster Madonna smiled down at her Child. It was grotesque.
No fires had been lighted in the house this morning and the ashes of yesterdayâs lay grey in the living-room hearth. All the windows streamed with water so that it was impossible to see out of them. Such heavy rain as this enclosed people like hibernating creatures, curled up dry, yet surrounded by walls of water. So it must have been for Louise and her lover, kissing, whispering, planning, while outside the rain fell and blotted out time.
Susan went upstairs. The bathroom door was open and the bathmat, a purple affair with a yellow scroll design in its centre, lay crookedly on the tiles. It looked as if none of the routine morning cleaning had been done. All the bedroom doors but one were open. She stood outside the closed door and listened.
Her reluctance to burst in on them had grown with every step and now she felt a strong revulsion. They might be naked. She put her hand to her forehead and felt a faint dew of sweat. It must be at least ten to one and Bob could be turning the corner of Orchard Drive at this moment.
She grasped the handle and opened the door gradually.
They were both on the bed, but the man appeared to be fully clothed. Only Louiseâs stockinged feet could be seen, for her lover lay spreadeagled across her, his arms and legs flung wide in the attitude of someone crucified on a St Andrewâs Cross. His face was slightly turned as if he had fallen asleep with his lips pressed to Louiseâs cheek. They were both utterly still.
No one slept like that.
Susan came round the side of the bed between it and the dressing table and as she did so she stumbled over something hard and metallic that lay on the carpet. She looked down on it, breathing fast, and at first she thought it was a childâs toy. But the Norths had no little boys to run up and down the stairs, shouting, Bang, bang, youâre dead!
Momentarily she covered her face with her hands. Then she approached the bed and bent over the couple. One of Louiseâs shoulders was exposed. Susan touched it and the manâs head lolled. Where his ear should have been was a neat round hole from which something sticky had run and dried. The movement revealed a mat of blood, liquid and caked, grumming their faces together and smothering the front of Louiseâs nightdress and housecoat.
Susan heard herself cry out. She put her hand up to her mouth and backed away, stumbling, while the floor eddied and rocked beneath her and the furniture swayed.
6
The police asked her to wait there until they came. Susanâs voice had shaken so much on the telephone that she was astonished she had made herself understood. She was almost numb with shock and long after the kind voice had stopped talking and told her to do nothing and to touch nothing, she sat staring at the Madonna while the receiver hung from her hand.
A rushing splash of water at the front of the house announced the arrival of the car. Susan was surprised she
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