Evil in Return Read Online Free PDF Page A

about Tim only the other day.
    ‘And your contact details?’
    Not wanting to give Tim’s real details, Alex gave the address of an old family friend who lived nearby. It sounded plausible and it was all he could think of. It seemed to satisfy Minderedes, who noted it down without question.
    ‘We’ll need to get a statement from you. Someone will be in touch to make an appointment. Do you have a phone number so we can contact you?’
    He reeled off a number that he hoped sounded genuine and prayed they wouldn’t try calling it until he was well gone.
    ‘Do you know Mr Logan’s number, by any chance?’
    ‘No. I never spoke to him on the phone.’
    ‘When did you last see Mr Logan?’
    ‘About a week or so ago. Why?’
    ‘Where was this?’
    ‘In the pub.’
    ‘Which pub?’
    ‘I can’t remember the name but it’s further along the canal. On the water. That way.’ He waved his hand vaguely in the general direction. He had had a drink there once with Joe, so it was partly true.
    Minderedes made another note. ‘Did Mr Logan go there regularly, do you know?’
    ‘No idea, but that’s where I usually saw him.’
    ‘And you haven’t seen him since?’
    ‘No.’
    Minderedes held his gaze for a moment, lips slightly parted as if he had something more to say. Alex’s heart was thumping. He wanted to fill the gap with words but he couldn’t risk blurting something out. He thought he was going to burst, then Minderedes snapped his notebook shut and slipped it away in his pocket.
    ‘OK, Sir. That about wraps it up. Thanks for your help. Just as a matter of routine, do you have any ID on you?’
    Alex patted his pockets as if feeling for his wallet, then shook his head. He could feel it tight in the back pocket of his jeans, but hopefully the tail of his shirt covered the bulge. He didn’t know much about the law but he was sure they had no right to search him. He took a deep breath. ‘Sorry. Guess you’ll just have to take my word for it. Now, please can you tell me what’s happened? Is Joe OK?’
    Minderedes puckered his lips as though he had tasted something sour. ‘No. I’m afraid your friend is not OK. He’s had an accident.’
    ‘An accident? What do you mean?’
    ‘I’m very sorry to tell you, Mr Logan is dead.’

3
    Maggie Thomas’s boat was even more brightly coloured than Logan’s and was decorated like the inside of a pasha’s tent. But the windows were open wide, a vase of fresh flowers stood on the kitchen counter next to an unopened bottle of red wine, and the air was full of the smell of garlic, tomato and thyme from a pan simmering on the stove. It was a combination he was familiar with from childhood, coming as he did from a family of good Italian cooks. He sat down on a kelim-covered armchair in the sitting area and watched as she washed a bunch of parsley that she had cut from one of the many pots on the roof of her boat.
    ‘I understand you knew Mr Logan,’ he said gently. When she had greeted him it was clear that she had been crying. Without turning around, she nodded and started to chop the parsley. ‘Don’t know why I’m so upset, really, I didn’t know him that well. I mean, he hasn’t been here long. It’s just that it’s a bit of a shock. I really liked him, you know. It’s such a waste.’
    She stopped chopping, put the knife down and turned to face him, wiping her hands quickly on a tea towel. She was striking-looking, deeply tanned, with streaky dark blonde hair pulled back in a loose ponytail and a lovely wide, generous mouth. He wondered what she would look like if she smiled. She might easily have passed for mid-forties, except that her hands and the laugh lines around her brown eyes gave her away. For some reason, she looked familiar to him, but he couldn’t put his finger on why.
    He took out a small notebook and pen from his back pocket. ‘Anything you can tell me about him would be a help. Do you know who owns the boat he was living on?’
    ‘Yes. It