The Unquiet Grave Read Online Free PDF Page A

tight-lipped, Laird was able to fire a warning glance at Bell. Too soon, Graham .
    ‘Oh, she’s fine,’ snapped Bannon.
    Laird’s eye drifted down towards the pack of cigarettes in Bannon’s hand, spotting a chance to move away from awkward subjects. ‘Can I borrow a gasper, boss? Mine are in my—’
    ‘Other coat,’ finished Bannon, happy to accept the offer of well-grooved banter. He tossed the brown pack at him. ‘I don’t know how you can afford so many coats on your take-home.’
    A grinning Laird pulled out a cigarette and lit up. ‘Funny.’
    ‘So,’ said Bannon, feeling the need to announce his participation. ‘What have we got?’ He struck out towards the blackened ground, Laird and Bell falling in step beside him and flicking open notebooks.
    ‘William Stanforth burned to death in the garden shed. He was thirteen years old yesterday and they were throwing a birthday party for him.’
    ‘Many happy returns,’ said DC Bell.
    Bannon flicked a contemptuous glance at Bell. ‘Keep it down, soldier. What happened, Wally?’
    ‘It seems Stanforth went missing some time in the late afternoon/early evening and the alarm was raised when the shed caught fire,’ said Laird. ‘No one knew the lad was inside until it was too late.’
    ‘No screaming?’
    ‘Nobody heard it if there was.’
    ‘How are the parents taking it?’ said Bannon.
    Laird shrugged his reply.
    ‘Sorry, stupid question.’ They arrived at the mound of saturated ashes being carefully probed by a man wearing a white coat, white overalls and a face mask. ‘Where’s the body?’
    Laird’s expression betrayed a glimmer of the horror witnessed. ‘What’s left of him has gone to the mortuary. They’ll need to do tests. There were flammables stored in there – petrol, paint thinners. It was all over in minutes.’
    ‘Tragic.’
    ‘Tragic, yes,’ said Laird, leading his superior to a canvas sheet. Spots of rain tapped out a rhythm on the canvas. ‘Accidental? We don’t think so.’ The detective constable pointed at the mound of blackened, twisted metal on the ground. ‘That’s the hasp and the padlock.’
    Bannon narrowed his eyes, inverting his salt and pepper eyebrows into a wishbone. The padlock was closed through the ring of the hasp. ‘They’re intact.’
    ‘Exactly.’
    ‘The kid was locked in from outside?’
    ‘With a key. No sign of the key,’ added Laird.
    ‘So it was murder.’
    ‘At least manslaughter, assuming the culprit is legally chargeable,’ confirmed Laird. ‘It was mostly kids at the party. Mr and Mrs Stanforth were the only adults. They were busy organising party games inside the house for the half-hour leading up to the fire. All the kids confirmed it.’
    ‘You’ve already spoken to the children?’ inquired Bannon, impressed, if a little put out. ‘What did they say?’
    Laird hesitated. ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to be at home with your daughter, boss? Graham and me can handle this.’
    Bannon glared at him. ‘What did they say?’
    Laird shook his head. ‘Nothing relevant. No fingers pointed. No confessions. They were enjoying the party and then they saw the flames. They thought it was a bonfire.’
    ‘How many kids are we talking about?’
    ‘Twenty.’
    ‘And you’ve interviewed the lot?’
    ‘We thought it best to speak to them all briefly while their memories were fresh.’
    ‘And?’
    ‘Like I said.’
    ‘How hard did you go?’ asked Bannon.
    ‘Hard enough, boss. They’re young. There were a lot of tears.’
    ‘How young?’
    ‘Apart from big sis, between eleven and thirteen. In fact, William and his twin, Francesca, were the oldest.’
    ‘His twin?’ said Bannon. ‘So it was her party too.’
    Laird shrugged. ‘I guess so.’
    ‘Where are they now?’
    ‘I sent them all home,’ said Laird, producing a list. ‘They’re all local to Kirk Langley and they were all exhausted. I can re-interview if need be.’ Bannon caught his eye. ‘We can,’ Laird