Sinema: The Northumberland Massacre Read Online Free PDF

embarrassed nicotine-stained smile. “Hi, hun. What’s your name?” There was the faintest tick just above her left eyebrow.
    With the resignation that comes from knowing that a chain of events were now impossible to prevent, he replied in his friendliest, yet most non-committal voice possible. “Hannibal Whitman. Pleased to meet you.”
    “I’m Carol Belmont; ex -wife of that adulterous bastard there.”
    “Ah, Christ.” Scarcely above a whisper from Big Joe.
    “Why don’t you get a life, Carol,” Steve muttered in an even tone, without taking his eyes off his glass of red wine.
    Still looking at Whitman and maintaining the forced smile, she replied, “I had a life and you stole it from me.”
    Janet turned to her, her expression genuine sympathy. “Carol, please …”
    Carol whipped her head around with such ferocity that Whitman thought her head would surely fly off. Glaring at Janet, she hissed, “Save your pity. You’ll need it for yourself.”
    Janet’s face flushed almost as red as her hair, and she turned away back to her drink without another word.
    To Whitman, it was a car crash; hypnotic to his morbid curiosities.
    “I don’t need this shit, Carol. Get off your cross.” With that, Steve drained the rest of his merlot and strode out, without another word.
    “Carol, why dae yae have tae start this in my boozer, eh?” Big Joe said, shaking his jowly face with his hands planted on his substantial hips. There was anger in his tone, but his face showed deep empathy.
    Timidly, she turned to Big Joe, tears welling in her eyes. “S-Sorry, Joe. I just …” Her bottom lip quivered and her voice faltered. With one swift movement, she drained her drink then stubbed out the remains of her cigarette. With far less grace and dignity than her former husband, she fled into the night with tears streaming down her face.
    There was a minute of awkward silence as Big Joe glanced from Janet, to Whitman, to the door.
    “Quite the soap opera,” Whitman said with a half-hearted attempt at humour. Big Joe just shook his head sadly and bent to unload the dishwasher. Janet continued to stare into her drink.
    “I was in Spender once,” Tam mumbled into his empty glass from the end of the bar.
    Lisa walked through from the lounge, with several empty pint glasses stacked in her hands. “Was that Carol making a tit of herself again?”
    “Give over, Lisa,” Big Joe muttered with a scowl. Then, with a sigh, he added, “Can you serve Tam? He’s dry again.”
    All in all, Whitman’s first night in Haydon had been enlightening to say the least. The blend of excitement and trepidation that he had felt at the start of his journey was now joined by a hungry curiosity for what would follow. There was so much to do and the clock was ticking.

 
     
    CHAPTER 3
     
    3 rd July. The girl and the playground.
    Whitman awoke from the most restful sleep he had experienced in years, as the first rays of morning sunshine pierced the thin floral curtains. Despite the early hour, he felt refreshed and ready for the day. He swung his legs out of the bed and jumped up, yawning but smiling, his eyes wide and blinking.
    With electric razor in hand, Whitman stared at his unshaven image in the mirror of his pokey en suite bathroom. He had switched it on and was about to start shaving himself when his hand had stopped less than an inch from the skin. The razor vibrated gently in his hand.
    “Man, you look just like I feel,” he said to his reflection.
    Chuckling, he switched the buzzing device off and popped it back into its pouch. No more shaving, at least while on location. If he was going to be a writer, he was going to have to look the part.
    After a brief stand up wash, he dressed in jeans, a M*A*S*H t-shirt and his All Stars, then headed for the door.
    The lounge was deserted, apart from the ever fussing Martha. She swooped down on him the instant he sat down at the one table that had been laid out with cutlery, placemat with a