The Ghost Runner by Parker Bilal

Author:Parker Bilal [Bilal, Parker]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Mystery
ISBN: 9781620403402
Google: 2KBdAgAAQBAJ
Amazon: 1620403404
Publisher: A&C Black
Published: 2014-02-14T11:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

Ayman’s room was not actually a room at all, but a space fenced off from the rest of the storeroom at the back of the hotel by a stack of plastic crates full of empty bottles that once upon a time contained some kind of soft drink. Crates and bottles alike were draped in layers of dust and spun together with cobwebs. The bed was strung with palm-fibre rope that had stretched with time to resemble a hammock more than a bed. His belongings were in a cardboard box. A meagre collection of clothes and shoes, all of which appeared to be in tatters. Torn shirts and ripped trousers, just like the clothes he’d died in. Shoes that were split along the seams or had lost a heel. It wasn’t much of an existence.

‘His parents died years ago. He had no brothers and sisters.’ Nagy remained by the door, his ususal bad temper softened by compassion. ‘Ayman’s parents were distant cousins.’

Makana rifled through a tattered primary school book. Apparently Ayman had been trying to teach himself to read. The stub of a pencil had been used to underline words. Boy. Camel. Bird. Nobody really knew how old he was exactly, but around forty was the general consensus, although his mind had not advanced much beyond that of a ten-year-old child.

‘They left him with us when he was still small.’

For safekeeping no doubt. The family wanted him kept at a distance, in the care of a relative say. A shelf held up by string and nails contained an oil lamp and some old glass jars filled with pebbles.

‘He collected them,’ Nagy explained, shaking his head in wonder, ‘like a kid collects marbles. He was fascinated by the colours and shapes.’

At the centre of the shelf was a small, chipped coffee cup. Inside it was a slip of blue ribbon. Nagy was busy pushing things aside, sliding crates against the wall, thinking about all the possibilities this space offered. Makana slipped the ribbon into his shirt pocket.

Nagy winced as he straightened up, one hand to his back. ‘All these years I looked after the boy and this is how I get repaid.’

‘The world is filled with injustice,’ commented Makana.

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