Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 152, Nos. 5 & 6. Whole Nos. 926 & 927, November/December 2018
- Автор: Ловси Питер, Зельцерман Дэйв
- Год: 2018
- Язык: английский
- Год: Dell Magazines
- ISBN: 0013-6328
- Жанр: Другие детективы
Электронная книга - «Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 152, Nos. 5 & 6. Whole Nos. 926 & 927, November/December 2018». Краткое содержание книги:
“I know you’re the youngest,” she had said when she lay dying in her bed, when the cancer had spread too far, “but you’re going to have to look after Pete now, keep him out of trouble.”
For the last two years, he’d done his best to make good on that promise, but there was no stopping his brother when he was in one of his moods. All you had to do was look at him the wrong way and that was it — if you were lucky, he’d smash his fist through a wall. If you weren’t, you’d cop a bruising. It was even worse if he’d been on the drink. One minute everything was fine, then something in his eyes would change and suddenly you were staring into a kind of no man’s land. In those moments, you never knew what was going to happen.
Ray held Jeannie closer and listened to the rain falling on the corrugated iron roof. He was close to sleep himself when something roused him — a car in the driveway. Drunk, rowdy voices. And it was then that he realised what had been troubling him for the last few days.
When Ray got home from the beach, he entered via the garage door. Upstairs, he could hear the sound of plates being placed on the counter, taps turning on and off, the oven door opening, the fridge door slamming shut. Normally he would go upstairs and help Patricia set the table, but he needed time to think.
He sat down on a crate and found that it was easier to concentrate in the cool, dank air. He would have to give a swab — after all, it would seem odd to make a fuss — and they would find his DNA inside her, he was certain. How long did he have then? It was hard to say. Maybe if he put the test off till the very last day it would give him enough time to get things sorted. Call the bank and make sure his finances were in order. Fix a few things around the house. Explain to Patricia.
“Oh God.” Ray leaned forward and rubbed his temples. There was a throbbing pain in his head. “It wasn’t me,” he said. “It wasn’t me.”
And jail, at his age? There was no way he would survive it. No, there had to be another way. Maybe if he left Eden, just for a while... but he’d need an excuse, a reason to get away for a couple of weeks. He ran through various different scenarios in his mind, but he knew that none of them would work. Then he thought about his cousin Marjorie in Queensland, whose health wasn’t the best. Maybe he could visit her. By the time he got back, they probably would have caught whoever killed the Wilson girl and he wouldn’t even need to give a swab. Yes, that was it — he would call Marjorie tomorrow to arrange it.
Ray stood up and exhaled, and his breath came out as a laugh or a sigh or some mix of the two. It was as if a doorway had just opened up in front of him. He walked over to the corner of the garage, picked up his toolbox, and went upstairs, propelled by a newfound sense of optimism. Everything would be all right after all.
On his way past the kitchen, Ray heard Patricia humming an old country song she liked and the sound of her cracked voice made him smile. He wondered how many moments like this he’d let slip away unappreciated over the years and decided that when all this blew over he’d take her on a holiday. She’d mentioned something about a cruise the other day.
He turned on the lights to the back deck and stepped outside. He placed his toolbox down by the barbeque and walked over to a large white carton that was propped up against the far end of the wall. He tipped it over in his hands and proceeded to drag it across the wooden boards to the centre of the deck.
“What on earth are you doing?”
Ray looked up and saw Patricia standing in the living room, peering at him through the gauze door. She was holding a bunch of cutlery in one hand and some place mats in the other.
“You’re not putting up the shade cloth, are you?” she said.
Dozens of tiny moths had started to gather around the light above the door and Ray paused to flick one away from his face. “It’s as good a time as any.”
“But dinner’s almost ready.”
Ray opened his toolbox and pulled out a tape measure. “I know, love, it’s just that I promised to put it up ages ago and I never got around to it.”
A small frown formed on Patricia’s forehead. “I don’t understand. Bob’s going to be here any minute now.”
“Bob?”
“You invited him over for dinner, remember?”
Ray suddenly recalled running into Bob on Monday night. He felt his chest tighten.
“What’s the matter? Did you two have a barney or something?”
“No, it’s just—” Ray stopped mid sentence, trying to think of what to say, but it didn’t matter because at that moment the doorbell rang.
Patricia sighed and dumped the placemats and cutlery on the table. “I’ll get that,” she said, “and you put that bloody shade cloth away.”
Patricia kissed Bob gently on the cheek. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to get away from work,” she said. “Come in, sit down.”
Ray nodded and shook Bob’s hand. The two men sat down at the dining table and made small talk — first about the weather, then about the upcoming cricket match between Australia and South Africa. Ray normally felt at ease around Bob, but tonight he was conscious that everything he said sounded stilted. Patricia fussed around them, arranging place mats and cutlery, and pouring wine into glasses, before finally sitting down herself.
“So,” she said, “you’ll have to give us an update on the murder.”
Ray made a disapproving face. “Patricia, he can’t talk about the case.”
“Well, I’m not asking him to reveal anything top secret,” Patricia said pointedly. She turned back towards Bob. “Jolene and I were just talking about the DNA screening earlier. That’s big news, isn’t it?”
“You’re telling me,” Bob said, leaning back in his chair. “Although I’m not sure if it’s worth the trouble, to tell you the truth.”
“What do you mean? I think it’s a great idea.” Patricia said. “Thank goodness Talia’s away at uni or I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night.”
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for it in theory,” Bob said. “But half the town’s in a flap about it and now some upstart lawyer’s making a fuss about... now, what did he call it? Civil liberties, that’s it.”
“Civil liberties?” Patricia said, cocking her head. “The civil thing to do when someone’s been murdered is to help the police solve the crime.”
Ray cleared his throat to speak, but immediately decided against it. He stuck a toothpick in an olive and was just about to put it in his mouth when he realised that both Patricia and Bob were staring at him expectantly.
“Oh,” he said. He looked down and noticed that his leg was jiggling again. “I was just wondering—”
Patricia and Bob exchanged a quick glance. “Well, spit it out, love,” Patricia said.
“I was just wondering,” Ray said, trying to sound casual, indifferent, “about this cold-case business in the newspaper.”
As their eyes met, Ray thought he detected a flash of suspicion on Bob’s face. Could he know? He felt the black, inky liquid bubbling up inside.
“Hmmm. Well, these detectives from Sydney aren’t exactly keeping me in the loop,” Bob said, rubbing the stubble on his chin. “But it could have something to do with that murder back in the eighties.”
“What, here in Eden?” Patricia said, startled.
“Yeah. A young Aboriginal girl. They found her body over in Ben Boyd National Park.”
“And they never caught who did it?” Patricia said.
“No. From what I’ve read, the police at the time didn’t take it too seriously. I don’t know, if she’d been a white girl, it probably would have been a different story, but you know how things were back then.” Bob sat forward in his chair. “You’ve lived here all your life, Ray. You’d remember that case, surely?”