The Solomon Gray Series Box Set by Keith Nixon

Author:Keith Nixon [Nixon, Keith]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gladius Press
Published: 2018-12-25T07:00:00+00:00

Forty Nine

“I can think of worse places to die,” said Fowler.

“There are plenty better, though,” replied Gray. He was standing above Khoury’s corpse, his eyes wide open, mouth clamped shut, as if he’d been straining at the moment something in his body snapped. Khoury was facing the sea, slumped at the rear of the old casino on the Ramsgate main bay. Once a grand building with plenty of money flowing through the doors, it now stood abandoned. Another relic of times past.

The immediate area was popular with winos and derelicts, indicated by the sand strewn with rubbish: bottles, cans, cigarette ends, and the odd syringe. The beach area had been cordoned off down to the water, as far as the harbour wall one way, and a couple of hundred yards to the other, towards the mothballed beach fairground. Uniform were combing the area picking up every item and putting it into a bag in case it proved to be evidence.

Graffiti was daubed on the wall, and the air reeked of urine and stale alcohol. There were, however, none of the local colourful characters in sight.

Gray squatted down for a closer look at Khoury’s left arm. It was bound by a tourniquet, and a needle was shoved in one vein, the plunger fully depressed. By Khoury’s right hand was the remaining drug paraphernalia – lighter, foil, and wrap of narcotics.

“Overdose,” said Fowler unnecessarily.

“Convenient.”

“Who cares?”

I do, thought Gray but kept his opinion to himself. His phone buzzed, and he pulled it out; it was a text from the solicitor, Stratham. Gray read it and realised loose ends were being tied up. For him too.

He rang the Lighthouse. Kelvin answered.

“Is Rachel there?” asked Gray.

“Sure, I’ll get her.”

“Hello?” said Rachel.

“It’s DS Gray, can we talk?”

“I was hoping you’d ask.”

***

“What is it supposed to mean?” whispered Rachel.

“I haven’t a clue,” Gray replied.

The Turner Contemporary was a modern art gallery a few hundred yards down the hill from the station and a short drive from the Lighthouse. The exhibit in question was a lacquered branch lying on a mattress. The artist was local-girl-done-good, Tracey Emin.

But they weren’t here for the art. Gray led Rachel into a darkened room with several rows of benches. There was a film on a loop playing against one wall. At this time of day, the gallery was almost empty. At the front was a couple, wearing headphones to hear the commentary, but there was nobody else in earshot.

Gray and Rachel sat as far away from the pair as possible and kept their voices low.

“Thanks for agreeing to meet me here,” Rachel said.

“No trouble.”

“Did you find any record of Noble meeting with Carslake?”

“No,” admitted Gray. “You should know that Adnan Khoury, has been found dead.”

Rachel put a hand to her mouth. “How?”

“We’re yet to confirm for sure but it seems he took an overdose.”

“Oh my God, that’s awful. Poor man.”

“I’m struggling to understand your relationship with your mother.”

“What do you mean?”

“After what happened, what she did, you somehow seem to be close. It must have been hard.

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