Wexford 6 - No More Dying Then Read Online Free Page A

company. Her husband had already gone off with the search parties and only Julian and his fourteen-year-old sister remained in the house,
       “Julian, when you saw John walk off towards Mill Lane, did you see anything else? Did anyone speak to him?”
       The boy shook his head, “He just went off.”
       “And then what did he do? Did he stand under the trees or go down the lane?”
       “Don’t know.” Julian fidgeted and looked down. “I was on the swings.”
       “Did you look over towards the lane? Didn’t you look to see where he was?”
       “He’d gone,” said Julian. “Gary said he’d gone and a jolly good thing because we didn’t want babies.”
       “I see.”
       “Honestly, he doesn’t know,” said the sister. “We’ve been on and on at him but he really doesn’t know.”
       Burden gave up and went to the Deans at 63.
       "I'm not having Gary hounded,” said Mrs. Dean, a hard-looking young woman with an aggressive manner. “Children quarrel all the time. Gary’s not to be blamed because John Lawrence is so sensitive that a bit of teasing makes him run off. The child’s disturbed. That’s what’s at the root of the trouble. He comes from a broken home, so what can you expect?”
       These were Burden’s own sentiments. “I’m not blaming Gary,” be said. “I just want to ask him some questions.”
       “I’m not having him bullied.”
       These days the least bit of opposition was liable to set him off.
       “You’re at liberty,” he said sharply, “to report me to the Chief Constable, madam, if I bully him.”
       The boy was in bed but not asleep. He came down in his dressing-gown, his eyes sulky and his lip stuck out.
       “Now, Gary, I’m not angry with you. No one’s angry. We just want to find John. You understand that, don’t you?”
       The boy didn’t answer.
       “He’s tired,” said his mother. “He’s told you he didn’t see anyone and that ought to be enough.”
       Burden ignored her. He leant towards the boy. “Look at me, Gary.” The eyes which met his were full of tears. “Don’t cry. You could help us, Gary. Wouldn’t you like everyone to think of you as the boy who helped the police to find John? All I want you to tell me is if you saw anyone at all, any grown-up, by the lane when John went away.”
       “I didn’t see them today,” said Gary. He screamed and threw himself on his mother. “I didn’t see them, I didn’t!”
       “I hope you’re satisfied,” said Mrs. Dean. “I’m warning you, I shall take this further.”
       “I didn’t see that person,” Gary sobbed.
       
    “Well, Mike?” said Wexford.
       “It looks as if a man’s been hanging about that playing field. I thought I might have a go at the people in the end houses overlooking the swings field.”
       “All right, and I’ll try the two end ones in Wincanton.” 
       Did Wexford remember that be and Jean had once lived there? Burden wondered if he was attributing an excess of sensitivity to the chief inspector. Probably. A policeman has no private life when on a case. He made his way to the bottom of Fontaine Road. The fields were dark now but occasionally in the far distance, he could make out the gleam from a torch.
       The last two houses faced each other. One was a detached bungalow, vintage 1935, the other a tall narrow Victorian place. Both had side windows facing the field. Burden knocked at the bungalow and a girl came to the door.
       “I’m out at work all day,” she said. “I’ve only just got in and my husband isn’t home yet. What’s happened? Has something awful happened?”
       Burden told her.
       “You can see the field from my window,” she said, “but I’m never here.”
       “I won’t waste your time, then.”
       “I hope you find him,” the girl said.
       The door of the Victorian house was opened before he reached it. As soon as he saw the face of the