2007 - The Dead Pool Read Online Free Page A

the pouring rain. In a flood. It was madness. Both Ross and Donald had said that Jamie had been different in the weeks before it happened. Obsessive, secretive. Certainly, once interested in something, Jamie would become utterly captivated by it, trying to convert others to his latest passion. The river work had been the most recent, and final, example. Still, she’d always thought that to reach his age and still be enthused by the world was a quality to be treasured. However, there was a fine line between passionate enthusiasm and obsession…
    And what of this secretiveness that Donald had remarked on? That was something completely new to her. Jamie had always seemed open, never one to hide his feelings. Yes, he could have a sharp tongue. She’d seen him tick off junior members of staff from time to time. And he could be a formidable complainer, especially when it came to the quality of service in restaurants or shops. Jamie had been an old curmudgeon on occasions, though always with reason. But secretive? No. What you saw was what you got with Jamie. In fact, that very notion was a bit of a badge of honour for him…’ I’m a plain speaker who believes in straight dealings, Kirstin .’
    And speaking of secretiveness, she’d not been aware of this at the time. But now, thinking over the encounter with Donald, it came home to her. Donald had seemed hesitant, reluctant at times. Perhaps wanting to say more about Jamie? But then pulling back. Or had she imagined it? He was obviously still very upset at the death of his lifelong friend. And maybe feeling, albeit without reason, a bit guilty. Could he, should he have done more?
    She closed her eyes, trying to picture this summer idyll as it must have been a mere five months ago. Radically changed. Unwelcoming, uninviting—savage, even. Savage to Jamie. But strangely, her thoughts kept drifting further back. To last summer. Two young people…partying with their friends by the river…laughing…enjoying life…falling for the aphrodisiac beauty of their surroundings…
    The screech of a wild creature roused her. An owl venturing out early perhaps? She opened her eyes and the light seemed to have all but gone, leaving the Cauldron in gloom. The last golden tints had disappeared from the top of the hill above. Time to go. As she headed away from the burbling weir, she quickened her pace and cast a last glance behind her at the now black waters of the Cauldron and the wooded bank opposite. The image she’d been seeing behind her closed eyelids returned. She could almost make them out over there. Two bodies…suntanned and naked…clinging to each other in hot desire…writhing in shared passion…
    The creature’s screech interrupted her thoughts for a second time. Looking away from the river, her pace turned into a jog. But the worst part of the image remained stubbornly with her. Two lovers forever entwined.
    In a bludgeoned, bloody mass.

Four
    K irstin tried to suppress a yawn as she approached the house. Sleep had not come easily after the previous evening’s visit to the Cauldron. She’d spent a fevered night tossing and turning; images of Jamie, the Cauldron, bloodied corpses, infusing what litde slumber she had found.
    Two minutes later, she’d reached her destination. It was a lovely house. And unusual. Detached, brilliant white, art deco style, with the front garden wild and untended but a true riot of summer colour. Kirstin pressed the bell once. No answer. She smiled to herself, gendy shaking her head at a familiar feeling. It was odd. Sometimes when you visited a house, knocked on the door, rang the bell but got no answer, you knew, just knew , there was someone in. Kirstin tried the bell again and stepped back, craning her neck as she strained to look upwards. Nothing. Curtains drawn and blinds down, on upper and ground floors. She’d already had a look at the side gate. Stout, secure, firmly locked. The whole place shouted ‘stay away’. Hardly