Nine Lives Read Online Free PDF

use your phone.’
    The woman’s eyes widened in horror, and she gave a little scream. Then a louder one, and she slammed the door in his face. So hard, that it set off ‘Oranges and lemons’ once again, proving a faulty connection. He waited until the bells of St Clement’s had pealed their last and he put his ear to the door. The telephone must have been in the hallway, for he heard the woman loud and clear.
    â€˜He said someone’s been murdered.’ Then a pause. ‘Tall,’ the woman said. ‘Nondescript really.’
    Neil was offended. And fearful too. He had to report the murder personally to put himself in the clear. He rushed around the square and found a telephone box on the corner. The police answered immediately, and he gave them the same unrehearsed story he had spouted on the neighbour’s doorstep. When asked for his name, he gave it gladly and then offered to stay at the address until they arrived. He put down the phone with a certain relief, and with little thought, though with a certain trepidation, he dialled again. This time his father’s number. It had been almost five years since they had spoken. The very last time, he had put the phone down on his father in mid-sentence. But sentence enough to express his parental disappointment with his son. He wondered whether his father had pickled the remains of that sentence over the years and would now spill them out, hearing how ragged the words were, how hurtful, andabove all, how pointless. He listened to his father’s ‘Hello?’, and in its tone he heard the years that had passed. And his tongue froze in overwhelming regret. He simply couldn’t respond. He knew he was not ready. But he had made a start, and that cheered him a little. In time he would talk to him, visit him even. He put the phone down. It was a start, he kept telling himself.
    He heard the sirens and he knew he had to return to the scene of the crime and to assume a mournful air, as befitted the occasion. No one need know how inside his heart half leapt with joy.
    A crowd had already gathered at the end of the street, pyjama-clad for the most part.
    â€˜There he is,’ a voice shouted as he made his way through the crowd. ‘That’s him.’ The woman who had slammed her door in his face was enjoying her fifteen minutes of fame.
    Neil felt the accusing stares around him. He might as well be in the dock. He made his way to the policeman who stood at Miss Mayling’s door, and announced himself as the telephone caller and the discoverer of the body.
    â€˜They’ll need you to make a statement,’ the policeman said. ‘I’ll get the Inspector.’
    Neil waited, turning to return the crowd’s stare. He had nothing to hide and he wanted them to be aware of it. Shortly after, the Inspector arrived and they were seen to have words together. Neil’s address was taken and when all was written down, the Inspector shook his hand. ‘Thank you, Mr Clarkson,’ he said. ‘We may need to be in touch.’
    Neil made his way through the crowd, his father’s ‘Hello’ echoing in his heart.
    Miss Angela Mayling was childless, unmarried and lived alone. No known relatives. When Neil Clarkson read thesedetails in the evening paper, he was not surprised. She was lonely and unhappy, and no doubt in the course of her interminable therapy, she had transferred her own lack of self-esteem to her patients. They were as much her crutch as she was theirs. It occurred to him that perhaps all shrinks worked in this way and that all of them needed a shrink of their own. A pure one, one untrammelled with personal baggage. But where was such a one to be found? Impossible, he decided. The entire profession was a swindle. And not only a swindle, it was close to a crime. Then he nurtured his delight in Miss Mayling’s departure but he could not entirely erase a trace of regret that she was no more.
    He