A Restless Evil Read Online Free Page A

hair. She’d pushed her hands into her jeans pockets and was idly manoeuvring a broken piece of ornamental edging with the toe of her trainer. He caught her lightly by her upper arms. ‘Don’t pretend. You make me feel guilty. It was a mistake coming, all right? I know you don’t like it. Just say so.’
    â€˜Well, I – oh, all right.’ She tossed back her hair, slipped her arms free and began to number off the points on her fingers. ‘The heating’s broken, the windows stick and I wouldn’t lose my money if I bet there was something wrong with the plumbing. Against that, it has large rooms, some lovely period features like the mouldings, and the garden is your dream, I know that. But,’ she sighed. ‘The village does look a teeny bit,
well, dead. I’m sorry. Perhaps you’d love the place. I wish I could tell you that I did. But I don’t. You did ask,’ she finished defensively.
    She reached out to squeeze his hand reassuringly. ‘We’ll find the right house if we keep looking.’
    â€˜And then we’ll get married?’
    â€˜Then we’ll get married. I’m not backing out, Alan.’ She was looking up at him anxiously under the heavy fringe of hair.
    â€˜OK,’ he said, kissing her. ‘Just so I’m sure. It’s not me, it’s the house.’
    â€˜It’s not you. The house is like Dracula’s weekend retreat.’
    He laughed and they set off back towards the gate.
    â€˜I wonder what that squad car was up to?’ Markby mused.
    â€˜Nothing for you to worry yourself over, Superintendent. Do you think Mrs Scott knows you’re a copper?’
    â€˜I didn’t tell her when I rang. I don’t go round announcing myself. Hey, I’m a policeman! It doesn’t go down well.’
    They got back in the car.
    â€˜We could,’ Markby said tentatively, ‘just drive down to the woods and take a look.’
    â€˜At the woods or at whatever has taken the police down there?’
    â€˜Both.’
    â€˜Go on,’ she said resignedly. ‘You won’t rest until you know. But count me out. I’ll go and take a look at the church, if it’s open. I’ll wait there for you, anyway. Pick me up on your way back from your busman’s holiday.’

Chapter Two
    As Markby’s car neared the woods, the road, or what passed for it, grew worse. Only a remnant of its original asphalt surface remained, cracked and weed-strewn. The edges had broken away and he rattled and shook his way in a wavering middle course over potholes filled with water from the afternoon’s downpour. He hoped he didn’t meet the police car careering towards him. Here and there parts of the dry stone walls lining the road had crumbled and sent mini-avalanches of lumps of yellow stone to encroach on the track. No one had troubled to remove them. No one, he guessed, came down here in a car. What, never? Well, hardly ever .
    â€˜I am the captain of the Pinafore …’ he hummed in an out-of-tune way. He was as near tone-deaf as made little difference. He regretted it. He’d have liked to enjoy music. He did enjoy Gilbert and Sullivan’s operettas but for the lyrics rather than the tunes.
    He fell silent and thought back to the house-viewing. That had been a notable lack of success. He should, perhaps, have mentioned to Meredith that he’d been in the house before. But
it had been so long ago and as he’d tried to explain, the only room he’d seen had been that claustrophobic study. Yet it hadn’t been an unfriendly place. Rather pleasant, as he recalled it. The vicar, Pattinson, had been an elderly man, a little on the dithering side and vague, but sharp enough when defending his flock. The book which had lain open on the vicar’s desk on that occasion, Markby recalled, had been that massive volume on myths which he’d glimpsed still there in the bookcase. ‘It