Authors: Frederic Lindsay
'I'm
talking
about
you.'
She
reached
out
and
struck
him
softly
on
the
chest.
'If
you
were
any
good,
you
would
have
known
by
this
time
who
killed
Merchant
and
the
others.'
'Maybe
I
didn't
want
to
know.'
He
shouted
into
her
face,
all
the
pain
and
weariness
forcing
it
out
of
him.
And
then
in
the
silence,
he
listened
to
what
he
had
said.
She
sighed.
'It
was
that
,
'
she
rested
her
hand
lightly
on
the
big
muscle
of
his
arm,
'and
the
broken
nose
that
fooled
me.
I've
solved
you,
Murray.
Inside
you're
a
mummy's
boy –'
She
ended
on
a
gasp
as
he
lunged
forward
and
pulled
her
against
him.
He
crushed
his
mouth
down
on
hers.
When
he
raised
his
head,
she
said
with
what
might
have
been
triumph
or
contempt,
'You
needed
that.'
He
felt
her
body
against
his,
not
as
a
woman's –
compounded
of
hardness,
softness,
swellings
and
incurvings –
nor
even
as
a
body
at
all,
but
as
a
pressure
that
conveyed
the
beat
of
his
own
heart
and
resonated
that
beating
until
he
shook
to
its
drum
of
lust
and
rage.
'No,'
he
said,
'I
needed
this,'
and
moved
too
quickly
for
her
to
stop
him.
'Poor
Malcolm,'
she
said.
They
were
back
in
the
living
room.
Everything
was
the
way
it
had
been
before.
Except
that
he
wanted
to
say
to
her,
that wasn't me. I'm not like that
.
He
wanted
to
go
over
to
the
couch
and
sit
beside
her
and
draw
her
head
down
on
to
his
shoulder.
The
trite
sentimental
image
of
togetherness
presented
itself
to
him,
vividly,
painfully,
lingeringly.
When,
ashamed,
he
bundled
it
away,
its
trace
was
left
behind
like
the
rings
of
fading
light
from
a
lamp
when
the
eyes
close.
'He
was
so
anxious
to
be
a
success,'
she
said.
Listening
to
her voice,
he
edged
the
curtain
aside.
The
window
was
splashed
with
fat
drops
of
rain;
he
watched
it
fall
slanting
under
the
street
light.
'Did
you
know
how
ambitious
he
was?
He
called
that
man
Bradley
'the
boss'
-
and
he
was
desperate
to
get
his
job.
But
they
were
going
to
put
Bradley
in
prison,
except
that
he
cheated
them
by
getting
cancer
and
dying
first.
They
were
ready
to
arrest
him.
Poor
Malcolm
didn't
know
that.
'How
do
you
know
what
was
going
to
happen
to
Bradley?'
'Peerse –
that
policeman
who
came
to
Mum
Wilson's –
the
one who
told
us
to
go
home
and
he
would
find
them – he's
been
here
twice.
He's
angry
because
he
was
sure
Frances
was
Jill
-
and
she
spoiled
everything
by
getting
herself
killed.
Now
he
doesn't
know
what
to
think.
He
explained
all
that
to
me
–
he
likes
to
explain
things.'
With
a
shrill
gust,
the
wind
burst
rain
like
shrapnel
across
the glass.
In
the
house
opposite
they
had
drawn
the
curtains
at
last.
Everyone
had
something
to
hide.
'He
told
me
how
Jack
the
Ripper
killed
a
Woman
called
Mary
Kelly
on
the
9th
of
November.
Peerse
is
waiting
for
the
9th
of
November
because
he
thinks
Jill
will
kill
someone
else
then.
Mary
Kelly
was
a
prostitute,
just
like
the
others,
and
he
killed
her
in
her
room
and
cut
her
to
pieces.
Because
it
was
in
a
room
and
not
in
the
street,
he
had
more
time.
The
room
was
like
a
butcher's
shop
with
her
blood
.
He
even
hung
bits
of
her
flesh
from
the
nails
in
a
picture
frame.'
He
heard
her
get
up
and
turned
to
follow
her
out
of
the
room,
but
stopped
after
a
few
steps
as
if
he
had
come
up
against
an
invisible
wall.
He
had
to
force
himself
to
enter
the
kitchen
for
the
second
time.
'Watch
your
feet,'
she
said.
'There's
broken
glass
on
the
floor.
That
could
be
dangerous.'
Not
stepping
among
it,
she
stretched
out
to
reach
the
tray
with the
chicken.
'Open
the
oven
door.'
'Peerse
didn't
have
any
right
to
come
here,'
he
said
.
'Not
unless
it's
official
–
and
I
don't
think
it
was.
You
don't
have
to
listen
to
him.'