‘But the knife,’ Slider said. ‘Why did you leave the knife?’
‘He knocked it out of my hand as he fell, and landed on top of it. I didn’t want to move him. It always shows, doesn’t it, when someone’s been moved?’ Slider nodded and then wished he hadn’t as lumps of pain went rolling about his head like rocks. ‘The only thing I did was to put his thing away. I couldn’t leave him like that. The knife – well, that didn’t matter. I’ve got plenty of others. I collect knives,’ he added, looking dreamily at the display wall. ‘There’s something beautiful and pure and simple about a blade – that’s why they talk so much about them in the Bible. Especially as an instrument of God’s vengeance. Draw the blade across the taut flesh, and let the soul out in a great gushing fountain of redness. That redness which is man’s animal nature, his sin. The thirsty earth drinks the sacrifice, and is quenched. And his soul goes to God for judgement. So simple, so easy.’
Slider blinked as a trickle of blood stung his eyes. He was losing his grip on things. ‘Why,’ he croaked, ‘did you kill your mother?’
Gilbert’s dreaminess disappeared, his expression sharpened. ‘My mother died ten years ago, of cancer. The good woman who brought me up, she was my mother. The whore who bore me was nothing to me. She was lewdness and filth, she was Babylon—’
‘She was the only person who knew about you and your brother. She knew you were going to let your twin brother take the blame for what you’d done. She reproached you, didn’t she? And you couldn’t stand it. She said you ought to take your punishment—’
Gilbert moved with astonishing swiftness for such a large man, and the knife was against Slider’s throat again, his head being pulled back agonisingly by the hair, the stink of sweat almost overpowering. ‘Punishment? Don’t you think I know about punishment? I learnt about it at my mother’s knee. Scourge thou the flesh that the soul may be made clean. In suffering is salvation. Scourge the back with rods and flails – as my father did for me, out of his love for me. Beat the devil out and let God in!’ He flung Slider’s head down and walked away, marching about the confined space to the beating music. ‘The flesh is just an envelope for the soul, an envelope with no address. The flesh is a snare and delusion. But the temptations of the flesh are strong, oh yes. So strong! You have to punish, punish every day, crush out the lewdness and the evilness. When the Devil stands up, you have to force him down again.’
Through the waves of nausea, Slider suddenly realised what Gilbert had been doing in here, what the kitchen weights were for, and the hole in the chair seat. He groaned, unable to help himself. This man, he thought dimly, is seriously bonkers. He is probably also going to kill me – but it was getting harder to care. He wished Mozart would shut up. How long can you hang out a death scene? His head hurt so much. But he thought the end was very near.
And suddenly Gilbert stood still, frozen in mid-stride and mid-rant. He would have looked ridiculous in those shorts and socks if it hadn’t been for the knife. Slider couldn’t see the knife any more. Was it somewhere in him? No, surely he’d remember that. What was up with Gilbert? Slider’s chin was sunk on his chest, and with a great effort he lifted it up, raised the throbbing football and peered through the blood and sweat that blurred his vision. Gilbert was standing by the door, listening, every line of his body taut. Then suddenly he flung it open. A breath of heavenly fresh air came in, and Slider saw Atherton standing there – elegant, fragrant Atherton. The cavalry.
Atherton said, ‘What the—’ and his eyes widened with surprise for an instant as he recognised the face in front of him. ‘How did you get here?’
Slider tried to warn him, but he couldn’t make a sound. It was all he could do to keep his head up. He saw an instant’s struggle as Gilbert thrust Atherton violently aside and ran. Atherton reeled sideways, briefly out of sight against the side fence, and Slider saw beyond Gilbert, oh blessed sight, the dark blue-black of uniformed police coming up the side passage. Atherton had thought to call out the infantry too, probably when Slider didn’t answer his mobile. The lads didn’t need telling to catch Gilbert – to bring down a running man is the most basic of a copper’s instincts. They were on him like the hounds of Hell on winter’s traces – hounds of fell – felon—
Atherton reappeared in the doorway, a puzzled expression on his face, his hands clasped over his stomach like a post-prandial bishop. Slider desperately wanted to say something – he’d thought of a really wonderful bishop joke, about long time no see – but all the talk had gone out of his tongue. Atherton unfolded his hands and looked at them, and the palms were red, and there was red all over his shirt. While Slider was trying to puzzle it out, Atherton said, quite conversationally, ‘Oh shit,’ went down on both knees like a shot ox, and fell gracefully sideways.
COPYRIGHT
Published by Hachette Digital
ISBN: 978-0-7481-3322-2
All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2005 Cynthia Harrod-Eagles
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher.
Hachette Digital
Little, Brown Book Group
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London, EC4Y 0DY
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Contents
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ALSO BY CYNTHIA HARROD-EAGLES
COPYRIGHT
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Table of Contents
COVER
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ALSO BY CYNTHIA HARROD-EAGLES
COPYRIGHT
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Blood Lines Page 30
