Dance with the Reaper: Yorke's worlds collide in this devastating sequel to One Last Prayer for the Rays (A DCI Yorke Thriller Book 5) by Wes Markin

Author:Wes Markin [Markin, Wes]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-07-30T16:00:00+00:00

13

DOUGLAS FIRTH PRESSED enter on his keyboard and then stamped the new book.

PROPERTY OF HMP HANCOCK LIBRARY. DATE:

He scribbled in the date, added his initials, closed the cover and sat back in his chair.

‘All done?’ Wheelhouse said.

‘Yep. Three months of hard negotiation with the warden, and voila, one hundred and two new books, logged, and ready to read.’ He gestured down at the pile on the trolley. ‘And now it’s over to you. The shelves await.’

‘Why do I always get the shit job?’

‘It’s called being second-in-charge. An honourable position.’

Wheelhouse laughed. ‘Fair enough. I was never that high up on the outside.’

‘Precisely,’ Firth said. ‘I’ve empowered you.’

Wheelhouse picked up a book and stood there a moment longer.

‘So, what are you waiting for?’ Firth said.

Wheelhouse looked up at him; his expression had morphed into a serious one.

‘It’s in hand.’

‘It’s been two days, Doug, I’ve given you space. Not mentioned it.’

‘Doesn’t crying yourself to sleep every night count as a mention?’

Wheelhouse looked away.

‘Sorry, Herb.’

‘They stepped out of line, Doug. We never behaved like this. We never moved on families. Those that paid were those that deserved to pay. She was innocent.’

Firth sighed and stood up. He placed his hands on Wheelhouse’s shoulders. ‘It’s sorted. Maybe today, maybe tomorrow, maybe the day after. Payback is coming. It can’t be rushed. There is a natural order to these things – you more than anyone know that.’

‘There was nothing natural about what happened to Janice.’

Firth nodded but didn’t respond. He gestured down at the books again. ‘Let’s just get these on the shelves, old friend.’

Prison guard Gavin Harris walked into the library.

‘Never figured you for much of a reader,’ Wheelhouse said.

‘Maybe he’s come to learn?’ Firth said.

Harris marched over to them, chewing gum with his mouth open.

‘I’ll get to work, while you give this man some culture,’ Wheelhouse said, turning and taking the trolley handles. He chuckled to himself as he pushed it down the first of three aisles.

Firth sat down in his chair, leaned back, and looked up at the pissed-off guard. ‘Easy does it tiger, just a little banter.’

‘The services you pay me for Firth don’t include ridicule.’

Firth shook his head. ‘You did get out of the bed the wrong side this morning, didn’t you? Can I help you, Harris?’

‘Help me? That’s an interesting reversal of roles.’

‘Look, Harris, I’m not in the mood right now.’ He picked up an old copy of Robinson Crusoe, located the ribbon bookmark that was attached to the spine, and opened it to the page he was on. ‘He’s just about to tame his goats. Apart from the ones he’s going to kill and eat of course.’ He looked down at his book.

‘George has disappeared,’ Harris said.

Firth wound the ribbon bookmark around a finger. ‘He’s probably gone to his mother’s.’

‘Not what I heard. I heard that your flea-infested accountant disappeared into the wind.’

‘He’ll be back.’ Firth picked up a pair of blunt scissors from his stationery box. ‘He always comes back.’

‘And if he doesn’t, who’ll pay me?’ Harris had stopped chewing and loomed over Firth trying to look menacing.

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