A Talent For Destruction Read Online Free PDF

sight of a corpse always made him sombre. The bodies he usually saw in the course of his work, however grotesque in their attitude of death, were recognizable as human beings: people whose lives had ended abruptly within the last few hours or days, people who had local families and friends to grieve over them. In those circumstances, cheerfulness was inappropriate.
    A skeleton, though, was different. The remains that Inspector Colman’s men had carefully lifted from under the bush at the bottom of Parson’s Close had once been some mother’s son; probably some woman’s lover, some child’s father. No doubt someone, somewhere, was bereft. But it was all at a distance. For once, Quantrill would not have the harrowing job of breaking the bad news. For once this was nothing more than an interesting case of unexplained death, and he could pursue his investigation without considering anyone’s feelings.
    He made the point to Robin Ainger. ‘And you must be glad,’ he added, ‘that it isn’t one of your parishioners.’
    Before Ainger could reply the doorbell rang. He went to answer it while his wife made coffee.
    â€˜That was the local newspaper reporter,’ he said when he returned. His eyes were dull again.
    â€˜What did you tell him?’ his wife demanded.
    â€˜That Chief Inspector Quantrill was having lunch with us, and that no doubt he’d be making a statement in due course. There’s nothing else I could say – I didn’t want to name the boys who found the body, they’re badly upset.’
    Quantrill looked up. ‘Have you talked to them?’
    â€˜Yes, when I returned their toboggan. They both go to our Sunday school, off and on, and I wanted to make sure they were all right. I know that both their mothers go out to work, but they were with Justin’s grandmother so they’ll be well looked after. I wondered whether they often went to play in our meadow, and whether they might have seen anything that could give us any information about the identity of the body, but they said not.’
    The Chief Inspector was not best pleased that the Rector had taken it upon himself to do a little amateur detective work; but as Parson’s Close was his land, it was perhaps natural that he should be particularly concerned about what had happened.
    â€˜Well now, Mr Ainger: just a few questions, if you’ll bear with me. The meadow where the body was found belongs to you in your capacity as Rector, doesn’t it?’
    â€˜It’s glebe land, part of my benefice as Rector of Breckham Market, yes.’ Robin Ainger pushed his chair back from the kitchen table, crossed one long leg over the other and gave his attention to his empty plate. ‘I can’t dispose of the meadow in any way, but I obtain income from it. As you probably know, it’s used as grazing land by the tenant of Church Farm.’
    â€˜And do you ever go into the meadow yourselves?’
    They spoke simultaneously: ‘No.’
    â€˜Never. I did think, when we first came,’ added Gillian Ainger with a slightly self-conscious laugh, ‘that I might sometimes go for walks there in the summer. But the cattle put me off. Bullocks are so inquisitive and pushy.’
    â€˜We rarely give a thought to the meadow,’ said her husband. ‘After all, it’s across the road and behind palings, completely out of our sight.’
    â€˜So if anyone used it – children, or lovers, or blackberry pickers – you’d be unlikely to see them?’
    â€˜Most unlikely. Particularly if they got into the meadow at the lower end, from the by-pass.’
    â€˜Quite.’ The Chief Inspector rose to go. ‘Well, I’m obliged to you both for your help and hospitality.’
    The telephone rang, and Mrs Ainger hurried to answer it. Her husband looked at his watch. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve kept you,’ Quantrill went on. ‘You both