A Half Remembered Song by Alan Jones

Author:Alan Jones
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Studio 24 Digital Ltd
Published: 2022-12-03T07:21:41+00:00

23

Sleep would not come that night, so after he had washed and shaved, Tom Ellison changed his shirt to the one he had discarded hours before. He sprayed a generous burst of aftershave over it to disguise its stale smell. He acknowledged Mrs Mutagh’s call to breakfast and went downstairs, still unsure whether to tell her about his recent skirmish. He poured a cup of tea from the waiting pot.

“Ah there y’are! Goodmornin!” Mrs Murtagh greeted him as she entered and placed in front of him a sumptuous fried breakfast and toast. He devoured it ravenously as his thoughts raced for a decision. When she came back into the lounge, he asked her to sit down on the chair across the table. He lent forward hesitatingly, and in as calm a voice as he could marshal, retold the events of the night before. She listened impassively and then gently put her hand over his and said “Are you alright my dear?”

He was amazed at the response. The dear old lady had been told of a possible threat to her own life, and yet her first thought was for him. He explained that he had already arranged to meet Finbar Reeve, who now would likely designate the house a crime scene, with all the consequent upheaval.

“That’s good!” she said without embellishment.

A few minutes before nine, he unbolted the front door and tentatively stepped out into an early morning sun that temporarily blinded him. Blotting it out with his hand, he surveyed the scene of the night’s events. A hawthorn hedge delineated the far side of the lane and beyond it a narrow strip of meadow that skirted the river. A gap in the hedge was guarded by a wooden gate and it was through this gap that the sun was breaking. He gingerly took the two steps down to the garden gate and cast a wary eye on his rented car for signs of damage. Had there been more than two shots? He couldn’t be absolutely sure. Reassured that no damage had been done, he turned to the gatepost. Chipped out of the white painted column, revealing the red brick beneath, were the inescapable marks of two bullets. They were both within inches of each other. He moved to the spot where he recalled standing when he heard the sound. The marks were level with his head! Turning round, he guessed the line of fire was in the direction of the gate on the other side of the lane. No grassy knoll here!

His replay was interrupted by the sound of Finbar Reeve’s car coming down the lane.

“Morning!” Reeve hailed through the open window. His expectation was that Tom Ellison was standing there ready to meet him.

Ellison raised a weak hand in acknowledgement and Reeve knew that all was not right. Opening the door as far as the tightly parked cars allowed, he eased himself into the gap and sidled his way out.

”You alright?” he asked, and recognised at once that his question was superfluous.

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