A Screech of Gulls (The South Coast Murders Book 1) by Richard Geddes

Author:Richard Geddes [Geddes, Richard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gutter Press
Published: 2022-07-07T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21

The years looked as though they had been tough on Terry and now I knew that he’d been unfairly fired from the job he’d been so passionate about, it was easy to see why he’d fallen from grace, as it were.

My own relationship with the press had been up and down to put it mildly, and Terry had been my only real ally.

When Caroline had died the initial reports had been sympathetic. She had been portrayed as another tragic victim of the merciless drug trade. Drugs and heroin in particular were big news at that time, all over the news, and the fever had gripped the nation.

Caroline aside, heroin had not yet really gotten its grip on Bridborne’s population, but there was a hysteria in the air that the whole town had clung onto and so The Echo had seemed to find something to write about Caroline for almost a year after she’d passed.

Before long, the narrative had begun to change to Caroline being a troubled girl who’d turned to drugs to escape problems at home. They were cautious to never print details, but a seed was planted that not only took root but rapidly invaded the collective conscious and all they could conclude was the worst possible scenario.

They no longer posted the sweet and innocent picture of Caroline; they had somehow gotten ahold of one of her in her goth days, and they ran that image in all their drug-related stories from then on. They had spoken to somebody at the school, who’d revealed Caroline’s episode of self-harm, and they had subtly suggested that it was either due to problems with her parents or even that the scars had not been entirely self-inflicted.

This had taken a terrible toll on my wife Edna, more so than I realised until the day I returned home from one of my walks to see the police outside my front door. I had been gone about forty-five minutes, it had become a bit of a routine of mine, my way of collecting my thoughts and getting some breathing space. Unbeknownst to me, Rita from next door used to pop round to see Edna for a little chinwag while I was out on my walks, and this time she had let herself in like she was apparently wont to do and found Edna’s lifeless body hanging from the top bannister.

What was even more tragic was that Edna’s death had given further credence to the rumours about something being wrong at home when, in reality, Edna had simply taken all she could of the heartache and distress and, despite being a devout Christian, seen no other way to make it stop.

I understood how it looked – no smoke without fire, couldn’t handle the guilt, and so on – I’d probably be thinking the same thing, and although I had no proof I wouldn’t have been surprised if that meddlesome ratbag Rita had had some choice things to say about me to anyone who’d listen. I

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