THE SOUL FIXER (A psychological thriller) by D.M. Mitchell

Author:D.M. Mitchell [Mitchell, D.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2013-04-13T23:00:00+00:00

There was a dilapidated old shed leaning against the side of the house. She heard the tinkling of metal against metal coming from inside. Standing at the open doorway, letting her eyes grow accustomed to the dull light, amid the accumulated jumble of logs, bits of twisted iron and stacks of wooden crates she saw Hector MacLeod crouching down to a rusted, green-painted generator, a spanner in his hand. He was mumbling something to himself.

‘Hello, Hector,’ Susan said.

He jumped to his feet. ‘Mrs Carmichael, I didn’t see you there,’ he said, putting aside the spanner and wiping oil from his fingers down the side of his soiled jeans. His other hand went instinctively to comb through his mass of dark hair, making it worse in the process. He looked like he wasn’t sure whether he should make eye contact or not and shuffled embarrassed on the spot. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I need to ask you a favour,’ she said, going over to him. The mustiness of the damp old shed filled her nostrils; that and the sharp smell of oil and diesel from the generator. She took out the map of the island Helen had given her. ‘Can you tell me where the old lighthouse will be on this? It’s not marked.’

‘You don’t want to go there,’ he said hurriedly. He cleared his throat. ‘It’s not in a good state and there’s nothing much to see.’

She went closer to him. He bit at his lower lip, looking at her awkwardly. ‘I’d really appreciate it if you could simply point out where it is, that’s all.’

‘Ask Helen,’ he said.

‘I’d rather not,’ she said. ‘I have my reasons. And she’s a busy woman; I don’t want to bother her. Anyhow, I thought you might like to help me.’ She held the piece of paper out to him. ‘You will help me, won’t you, Hector?’

He nodded, took the paper and then stabbed the map with a grubby finger. It left an oily smudge. ‘There, on that headland. The one shaped like a crooked forefinger. It’s about a mile away. Head down the coast that way,’ he said, pointing with the same grubby finger, ‘and you can’t miss it. Why do you want to go there, Mrs Carmichael? There’s nothing to see.’

‘Oh, I just love old lighthouses,’ she enthused. She took the map back and folded it, putting it into her coat pocket. ‘I’d be really grateful if you didn’t tell anyone that I asked you about the lighthouse. You’ll do that for me, won’t you, Hector?’ she said, smiling sweetly at him. ‘Keep it between us?’

He nodded helplessly. ‘Anything you say, Mrs Carmichael.’

She thanked him and told him she didn’t want to interrupt his work any further. At the door to the shed she turned and said, ‘And thank you also for the vase of heather. That was very sweet and thoughtful of you.’ She smiled as he nodded quickly and then went back to his work.

You manipulative bitch, she thought. Paul

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