The Impossible Dead Read Online Free PDF Page B

Mitch told him.
    ‘Where?’
    ‘Fife.’
    ‘When was I ever in Fife?’
    ‘My cousin Chris – we used to visit him.’
    ‘Where did he live?’
    ‘Burntisland. The beach, the outdoor pool, the links …’
    ‘How old was I?’
    ‘Chris died young. Take a look, he should be in there somewhere.’
    Fox realised that his father meant the shoebox. So they lifted out the contents on to the bed. Some of the photos were loose, others in packets along with their negatives. A mixture of colour and black-and-white, including some wedding photos. (Fox ignored the ones of him and Elaine – their marriage hadn’t lasted long.) There were blurry snaps of holidays, Christmases, birthdays, works outings. Until eventually Mitch was handing a particular shot to him.
    ‘That’s Chris there. He’s got Jude on his shoulders. Big, tall, strapping chap.’
    ‘Would this be Burntisland then?’ Fox studied the photograph. Jude’s gap-toothed mouth was wide open. Hard to tell if it was laughter or terror at being so high off the ground. Chris was grinning for the camera. Fox tried to remember him, but failed.
    ‘Might be his back garden,’ Mitch Fox was saying.
    ‘How did he die?’
    ‘Motorbike, daft laddie. Look at them all.’ Mitch waved a hand across the strewn photographs. ‘Dead and buried and mostly forgotten.’
    ‘Some of us are still here, though,’ Fox said. ‘And that’s the way I like it.’
    Mitch patted the back of his son’s hand.
    ‘Did I really love it in Fife?’
    ‘There was a park up near St Andrews. We went there one day. It had a train we all sat on. There might be a photo if we look hard enough. Lots of beaches, too – and a market in Kirkcaldy once a year …’
    ‘Kirkcaldy? That’s where I’ve just been. How come I don’t remember it?’
    ‘You won a goldfish there once. Poor thing was dead inside a day.’ Mitch fixed his son with a look. ‘You’ll put Jude’s mind at rest?’
    Fox nodded, and his father patted his hand again before lying back against the pillows. Fox sat with him for another hour and a half, looking at photographs. He switched the lamp off just before he left.

5

    ‘This is a joke, right?’
    ‘It’s what’s on offer,’ the desk sergeant said. He looked every bit as pleased with this morning’s outcome as he had done the day before when informing them that none of their interviewees were available. ‘The door locks, and the key’s yours if you want it.’
    ‘It’s a storeroom,’ Joe Naysmith stated, switching on the light.
    ‘Forty-watt bulb,’ Tony Kaye said. ‘We might as well bring torches.’
    Someone had placed three rickety-looking chairs in the centre of the small room, leaving no space for a desk of any kind. The shelves were filled with boxes – old cases identified by a code number and year – plus broken and superannuated office equipment.
    ‘Any chance of a word with Superintendent Pitkethly?’ Fox asked the sergeant.
    ‘She’s in Glenrothes.’
    ‘Now there’s a surprise.’
    The sergeant was dangling the key from his finger.
    ‘It’s somewhere to park the gear, if nothing else,’ Naysmith reasoned.
    Fox gave a loud exhalation through his nostrils and snatched the key from the sergeant.
    While Naysmith brought the equipment bag in from the car, Fox and Kaye stayed in the corridor, eyeing the interior of the storeroom. The corridor was suddenly busy with uniforms and civilian staff, all passing through and stifling smirks.
    ‘No way I’m parking myself in there,’ Kaye said with a slow shake of the head. ‘I’d look like the bloody janitor.’
    ‘Joe’s right, though – it’s somewhere to store the gear between interviews.’
    ‘Any way we can speed the process, Malcolm?’
    ‘How do you mean?’
    ‘You and me – we could take an interview each, be done in half the time. The only people we need on tape are Scholes, Haldane and Michaelson. The others are just chats, aren’t they?’
    Fox nodded. ‘But there’s only