Famous Last Words (A DCI Harry McNeil Crime Thriller Book 16) by John Carson

Author:John Carson [Carson, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-01-30T13:00:00+00:00

SIXTEEN

Present day

‘So you see, Helen, that’s how your mother died. She was never found, but no doubt when the allotments are sold to a developer, she’ll be dug up – just a bag of bones, mind – and that will set off a murder inquiry. But it will lead back to my friend. Who’s dead.’

The man thought of the man who had carefully nurtured his desire to kill. Paul Hart.

Of course, it had been a while before he found out Hart’s name. There wasn’t a need to know; Hart just told him to call him by whatever name he chose. One day he would be Jimmy, the next Bobby. Whatever name sprang to mind.

He was always the boy.

Now he had taken over the mantle of being the man. He was the man now that Hart was dead. The baton had been passed to him and he was going to run with it. Hart had taught him many things, but above all: don’t get caught. The man had read many stories of how those stupid bastards got caught. Watched TV shows where the murderer was so dumb, it was laughable. Paul Hart had showed him how to do it right.

The early days had been strange to him, his feelings all over the place: guilt, sadness, regret, joy. All those feelings coursing through his young body after he killed his sister. But she wasn’t his sister exactly. She was his stepsister. He hadn’t known that at the time. It wasn’t until the day of the funeral approached that he found out. His mother had told him that his own father had died in a train accident. He’d been hit by one. The boy wondered why he had been walking on the train tracks, and it was only years later that he learned that his father was a thug and a thief. He’d just broken into a house and was making off with some jewellery, trying to keep out of sight of the police, when the train came out of the fog and hit him. The jewellery gave him up.

The boy was six months old when his father died, and it was his ‘dad’ he remembered. The three-year-old girl had always been there, the sister whom his stepdad had brought with him.

It explained a lot, really; she had hated him from the first time she clapped eyes on him. There was no bonding there, no love built up over the years. The boy could never understand why she was so cruel to him, even her own father couldn’t understand why she acted up all the time, but at her funeral it all became clear. Deep-seated resentment, the boy’s mother said. His sister’s resentment towards her ‘new’ mother had never fully diminished, and she took it out on everybody around her. Fighting at school. Fighting at home, sometimes both physically and verbally.

His mother argued with her husband in the following days, about how his daughter was out of control.

His stepfather didn’t want to hear about this but instead found solace in a bottle.

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