CAST THE FIRST STONE a gripping British crime mystery full of twists by ALISON JOSEPH

Author:ALISON JOSEPH [JOSEPH, ALISON]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Joffe Books Mystery, Crime Thriller, Suspense
Published: 2024-09-29T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

‘The wicked wear their pride like a necklace, they wrap their violence about them like a cloak; they set their mouths against the heavens, and their evil speech runs through the world . . .’

The windows of St. Simeon’s were indigo in the evening light. The candles flickered in the heavy shadows.

She looked around the church, at the shrouded figures hunched over their prayer books. She thought about Murchie. A warning, she thought. A warning to Dermot in the shape of his dead rat.

‘O, how suddenly do the wicked come to destruction; come to an end and perish from terror . . .’

It was too late for Dermot. Too late for him to turn his back on his former life.

* * *

Afterwards she lingered in the church, while Julius straightened chairs and gathered up stray prayer books.

‘I heard the news from the hostel.’ He blew out a candle. Soft wisps of smoke rose towards the roof. ‘All rather bleak, isn’t it?’

‘Terrible.’ She perched at the edge of the choir stalls.

Julius extinguished the last of the candles. The rows of pews lengthened into the shadows. She yawned.

‘Long day?’ He glanced across at her.

‘A rather nice lunch with Bretton Laing,’ she said.

‘Ah. No peace for the wicked.’

‘Thanks.’ She stood up, waited for him as he locked the front door, followed him through the church to the side entrance. ‘They think the fossils are the same age as the Ark. If you go by biblical time.’

‘Good heavens.’ He stood and faced her in the darkness. ‘So Thomas Burnet was right. Him and all the others.’

‘Up to a point. I’m not sure my father managed to prove that the Flood was caused by subterranean oceans.’

They stepped on to the gravel path, and he locked the door behind them. Their feet crunched the stones underfoot as they walked towards the lighted street.

Julius took her arm. ‘What’s your American going to do with this new theory, then?’

‘I’m not sure.’ Agnes was about to say more, to pour out to him her misgivings about Brett — ‘He seemed to be withholding something, and now everything seems wrong, and I’m worried about Dr Kitson and I don’t know why’ — but just then her phone rang.

‘Is that Sister Agnes?’ The voice was familiar, tetchy and male.

‘Yes,’ she said. Of course, she thought. It’s—

‘This is Jeremy Stipes. I’m saying this once and once only. Keep away from my wife. Do you hear?’

‘Oh, hello Mr Stipes.’ Agnes spoke loudly. ‘And why do you wish us to keep away from your wife?’

‘I don’t know what you’ve been saying to her, but she’s talking of leaving. She’s a very sick woman, Sister, and it seems to me you’ve been criminally irresponsible to give her such ideas.’

‘I’m sorry to hear you feel this way, Mr Stipes.’ Agnes raised her eyebrows at Julius. ‘Perhaps I could speak to your wife, and then I might understand—’

‘You certainly cannot speak to my wife. You’re to keep away from her from now on. If I see you near my premises, I will have you arrested for trespass.

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