Dying Light by Stuart MacBride

Author:Stuart MacBride [MacBride, Stuart]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3, pdf
Tags: Suspense, Mystery & Detective, General, Fiction, Thrillers
ISBN: 9780007279456
Publisher: Harper
Published: 2008-09-04T04:00:00+00:00

Mrs Kennedy’s lounge was a disaster area: chairs and tables overturned, paintings slashed, photo frames smashed, china poodles reduced to glittering shards on the carpet. Mrs Kennedy sat in a ruptured armchair, fat orange cat clutched to her bosom like a security blanket. It eyed the detectives standing in the middle of the room with evil distrust, yellow eyes narrowed to slits, ears back.

‘Honestly,’ said the old lady, shaking. ‘I don’t want to cause any fuss, I’m fine. Really…’ She’d been out at the time, but the downstairs neighbour had heard the destruction and called 999. They couldn’t bear to think of poor old Mrs Kennedy lying up there in a pool of blood, battered to death! They were basically well meaning, but no bloody help whatsoever. They didn’t see anything, didn’t peer out the spy hole in their door to watch the bad guys come down the stairs. Didn’t even look out the window to see if they got into a waiting car, or a bus, or a taxi, or clambered aboard a passing elephant. They were scared someone would see them looking. It was a pain in the arse, but Logan could understand their reticence. They were in their seventies, why risk being seen by violent thugs who might come back and get them? Instead they’d kept their heads down and called the police. It was still more than a lot of people would do.

Whoever the vandals were, they’d done a pretty good job of bankrupting Mrs Kennedy’s insurance company. The lounge, kitchen, and both bedrooms had been thoroughly trashed. But there was something odd in the lounge, something that seemed a bit out of place amidst all the devastation. Smack bang in the middle of the far wall the words ‘STOP NOW’ had been scrawled in dripping, fluorescent orange paint. ‘Any idea what it is they want you to stop doing?’ asked Logan, pointing at the bright, spray-painted letters.

Mrs Kennedy shook her head and hugged the cat even tighter, causing it to wriggle. ‘I … I help organize a youth club for local youngsters? Up at the school? We have football matches and jumble sales…’

‘Hmm,’ said Insch. ‘Well unless you’re caught in the middle of a turf war between the Boy Scouts and the Girl Guides, I think we can rule that out. Anything else?’

‘I still tutor some children. Since I had to retire I sometimes think it’s the only thing that keeps me going.’

‘Oh aye?’ Insch was poking about in the remains of a large china dog with his shoe. ‘Piano? French?’

‘Chemistry. I was a chemistry teacher for thirty-six years.’ She smiled, eyes misty with recollection. ‘I taught thousands and thousands of children in my time.’ She sighed. ‘And now all I have is this…’ DI Insch made his excuses as the tears started, but Logan decided to do the decent thing and make her a cup of tea. The kettle was dented, but otherwise functional, so he set it to boil and went hunting for some teabags.

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