Dead Man's Contract by Jack Alun

Author:Jack Alun
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bright Pen
Published: 2013-07-16T00:00:00+00:00

15 (Monday pm)

Jarret stripped and crammed his wet, corpse-reeking clothes into the washing machine and started it rotating. In the shower, he scrubbed at his skin until it was pink and almost raw, to liberate himself from the impregnation of death. But neither the shower gel nor the shampoo had the power to overlay the stench that lingered as much in his mind as in his nostrils. It felt as if it was oozing from his body like sweat.

After leaving the manoir, Jarret had driven straight to the river village of Laguépie where, from a pay phone near the railway station, he telephoned the gendarmerie. He’d chosen Laguépie partly because he knew it, but mainly because it was situated in the neighbouring departement of Tarn et Garonne, the same as the Manoir Ivant. After pointing the local gendarmes in the direction of the murders, he then intended returning the short distance back across the border to Le Papillon, and away from the ensuing investigation. If the call was ever traced, it could never be traced back to him. He wanted the repercussions from the slaughter at the manoir to remain exactly where they were. He’d already enough to worry about without gendarmes knocking on his front door.

The gendarme on the other end of the telephone exhibited an audible lack of interest. Being contacted during the two-hour lunch break was plainly something he wasn’t keen to encourage. But as Jarret continued to describe to him the magnitude of the crime at the manoir, his excitement mounted. Until, finally, shaking off his lunch-time torpor, he fired off a number of questions, none of which Jarret had the slightest intention of answering. Neither his location, address, name or contact number. So he hung up.

After Laguépie, he drove in the direction the Jeep was facing, towards St Antonin and along the river valley. An indirect route home, but it made sense – in case anyone in the village had noticed him. If so, and the gendarmes asked questions, he wanted them looking in the wrong direction.

#

By the time he’d dressed after his shower, the afternoon was already too advanced to think about returning to Villefranche. Anyway, after the manoir, he just didn’t have it in him to do any more. A strange lethargy had descended. Tracing Alicia’s movements after she’d returned the hire car would have to wait until morning. For a moment he thought about phoning Automoberia, but convinced himself another personal visit in the morning would be more persuasive. It may or may not be important, but he’d like to know what had happened and where she’d headed after dropping off the hire car – whether she’d walked away or whether someone had come to pick her up. He was annoyed with himself for not having asked the questions earlier.

But, right now, all that could wait. He just wanted to sleep. He lay back in the chair and closed his eyes. The fatigue he felt was palpable. But his brain resisted.

Since the discovery of the cocaine, the stakes had become undeniably higher.

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