Death and Bright Water by James Mitchell

Author:James Mitchell [Mitchell, James]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ostara Publishing
Published: 2014-07-01T00:00:00+00:00

Kyle tried the door-handle again. The door was still locked. Methodically he set to work on the knocker, slamming it down as only a policeman can, but there was no joy. He banged even harder: at least it helped his frustration.

Behind him a voice said, ‘I rather think Mr Callan’s away.’

Kyle turned. The card by her door read ‘Miss Eileen Brewis’. She was tall, neatly dressed, prim.

‘He hasn’t left his milk bottles out for two days,’ she said.

And you have an eye for such things, I don’t doubt, thought Kyle.

‘Did he have a friend with him?’ Kyle asked.

‘He did come back with someone a few days ago,’ Miss Brewis said. ‘Rather a low type I thought. Not like Mr Callan at all. I don’t know if he stayed,’ she said regretfully.

‘A small man, wearing a raincoat and a dark blue suit?’

‘That’s right,’ she said. ‘Very shabby I thought. Still he had made some attempt to smarten himself up.’

‘Indeed?’

‘His cap,’ she said. ‘It looked quite new. You’re not a debt collector by any chance?’

‘No,’ said Kyle. ‘I’m a policeman.’

At once she began to shut the door. Kyle spoke quietly.

‘Just a little matter of lost property,’ Kyle said. ‘Nothing – er – criminal.’

‘Mr Callan never mentioned any lost property to me,’ she said. It was a black mark for Callan, obviously.

‘I wonder if you’d mind describing him?’

She didn’t mind at all. Medium height, good shoulders, quite a pleasant smile. On and on she went and the picture grew clearer by the minute. She fancied this Callan all right. She doesn’t know he’s a hard one, Kyle thought, but he had no doubt that he was Lonely’s hard friend. The name was different, but the hard ones often changed their names. They couldn’t change their faces – or their bodies.

‘Do you happen to know what he does for a living?’

‘His hours are irregular,’ she said, and there was another black mark. ‘And that is all I can tell you. I fail to see what it has to do with lost property.’

Kyle smiled his most boyish smile.

‘Just trying to find out when he would be in,’ he said.

‘Mr Callan is quite unpredictable, I’m afraid,’ she said. ‘If there’s nothing further —’

‘Thank you. You’ve been very kind.’

The door shut firmly, and Kyle heard the chain go on, boyish smile or no boyish smile.

He went down the stairs and crossed the road to join the bus queue. The man in front of him buried his nose in his paper and didn’t look up. That bastard Meres, he thought. Calling me in on my rest day just to keep tabs on a copper. … Across the road a second man got into the phone box and dialled, then waited for the cold, beautiful voice.

‘Yes?’

‘Let me speak to Charlie please,’ he said.

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