Corpse in Waiting Read Online Free PDF

do any damage to something that was not yet mine so proceeded gently. At last, the door yielded, leaving a thick layer of paint on the inside of the door frame. No, not paint, I saw when I looked more closely, the deposit was what appeared to be glue.
    I stood up, opened the door wide and found myself eyeball to partially empty sockets with someone’s head.
    My back slammed into the wall behind me and there was a bang as the tool I had been using landed on the floor. I suppose I must have stopped breathing for a moment from shock for I then heard myself gasp for air, inhaling the stink of putrefaction. The head on its shelf just grinned back at me.
    It was not a joke one made of some kind of resin that smelt horrible, I ascertained, making myself go closer again. This was real. It was only halfway to being a skull as the shrivelled lips were still there and thick black hair tumbled down from what remained of the scalp. Those eyes . . .
    Feeling sick, I walked away for a short distance, surprised to find that I was a little unsteady on my feet.
    Then I rang the police.

THREE
    â€˜ Y ou’ve found a heid ?’ James Carrick exclaimed, his Scottish accent more pronounced then usual.
    â€˜In a house I’m hoping to buy,’ I elaborated.
    There was a pause and then he said, ‘I’m not sure which is the more surprising statement. Are you sure ?’
    â€˜I’m looking at it now,’ I said. ‘It’s on the top shelf of an upstairs cupboard. The cupboard had been glued shut and there’s another one similarly sealed in the scullery. Perhaps that’s where the rest is.’
    â€˜Is Patrick with you?’
    â€˜No, he’s gone house-hunting with some blonde trollop.’
    â€˜Bloody hell,’ he responded morosely. ‘Give me the address and I’ll be with you as quickly as I can.’
    Cautious as ever, Carrick, fair-haired, in his late thirties, a Scot to the core, and once described by a friend of mine as wall-to-wall crumpet, arrived on his own, had a look for himself and then called out the troops.
    â€˜Are you all right?’ he asked.
    We were standing in the scullery, waiting for his team to arrive, gazing, warily, at the larder door.
    â€˜Yes, I’m OK,’ I replied, actually wishing Patrick was here too.
    â€˜You’re not going to want to live here now, surely,’ he said, giving me a sober look.
    â€˜I don’t know,’ I replied. ‘I think it would . . . depend.’ At least Alexandra would be unlikely to want it now.
    â€˜You could sweep the cupboards away when you modernize the place,’ he suggested. ‘Had I told you Joanna’s pregnant?’
    â€˜No! Congratulations!’
    â€˜Well, as you know, she’s had two miscarriages. She’s taking things very easy.’ Awkwardly, he went on, ‘Look— er – excuse me for asking but what did you mean when you said Patrick had gone house-hunting with some – er – woman?’
    â€˜Trollop,’ I corrected before explaining.
    His brow cleared. ‘You had me worried for a minute. I thought—’
    â€˜ I’m worried,’ I interrupted. ‘She might have some kind of hold over him.’
    â€˜Who – Patrick ? Surely not!’
    â€˜Not the sort of hold you might be thinking of. She might represent . . . you know . . . his youth, fun times before he had any responsibilities and was still an army officer in a regiment that hadn’t been amalgamated with others. Oh, I don’t know, James. You’re a bloke. You ought to be able to explain it to me. I mean, she used some really filthy language and he laughed ! Now if there’s one thing he hates it’s me swearing.’
    â€˜But he cares about you, doesn’t he? She might have been just a one-night stand – history.’
    â€˜And if you met a bloke with whom Joanna had had a one-night stand and he