The Reckoning Read Online Free Page A

‘That’s all I’ve got to tell you. We’re going to have to wait on ballistics now. But I’ve got a few questions still. Is there anyone around we could talk to – someone who knew Gibson well?’
    â€˜There’s his brother, name of Edward. He lives in London, but he came down when he heard the news. And Gibson’s daily, aMrs Gannet. I’ve spoken to both of them, but only briefly. Mrs Gannet was at Gibson’s cottage the day he was killed: she was there when he went off fishing, but he hadn’t returned by the time she left, so she didn’t find out what had happened to him until the next morning. His brother’s staying at the cottage. I told them both to expect us.’
    â€˜Then let’s go and see them, shall we?’

2
    â€˜I KEEP HAVING TO pinch myself. I can still hardly believe this happened – and to Oswald, of all people . . .’
    Edward Gibson shook his head helplessly. Stout, with pink cheeks and a fringe of hair like a monk’s tonsure around his bald pate, he came across – admittedly on short acquaintance – as a cheerful type forced into a role that didn’t suit him: that of a grieving brother. Or so Billy thought, as he listened to Edward sigh and watched as he stared out of the window, seemingly at a loss for words. A solicitor by profession, he had greeted them in shirtsleeves at the door when they knocked, and explained that he’d been busy going through his brother’s papers.
    â€˜I’ve already told you he had no enemies, but it was more than that. Poor Ozzie – he’d do anything to avoid trouble. I used to tell him, right back from the time when we were boys, that he shouldn’t let people push him around. But he was a timid soul.’
    He had led the detectives into a small sitting room at the front of the cottage, where Billy’s eye had been drawn to a framed photograph of two men – one of them Edward Gibson, the other his brother – standing on a table near the window. It was Billy’s first glimpse of the man whose violent end they had been discussing and it came as no surprise, after what Vic had said, todiscover that Oswald’s appearance was unremarkable. The snapshot, taken in a garden, showed the brothers standing beside a fishpond: Edward, smiling, with a straw hat pushed back on his head and seeming to enjoy the moment, stood with his arms akimbo, while Oswald, shorter by a few inches and pale of face, looked up at his elder sibling with a wistful expression.
    â€˜He let people walk all over him – his wife in particular. It’s not for me to judge, but they had a rotten marriage. He wouldn’t stand up to her, and she despised him for it. When she died last year I think it came as a relief to poor Oswald. He was finally free of her. They were free of each other.’
    He looked at them.
    â€˜That sounds harsh, I know, but the point I’m making is that Ozzie was a happy man after that, happier than he’d ever been. He had already retired from the bank. He had enough to get by on, and he set about trying to enjoy his life for the first time. He had his fishing – he loved that – and his stamp collection, and enough friends that he wasn’t lonely. There was nothing in his life to distress him: if there had been, I’d have been the first to know about it. I’ve been going through his stuff all morning, hoping I could find something that might explain this – a clue even – but there’s nothing, absolutely nothing.’
    He waited, hoping for a response perhaps, but Billy stayed silent. It was better to let the man talk, he thought.
    â€˜There’s no denying Ozzie found life a struggle. He was always expecting the worst, waiting for the next blow to fall. But he was my brother, and I loved him. And this – what happened to him . . . It’s outrageous.’
    His glance challenged them to deny the