The Unquiet Grave Read Online Free PDF

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    Bannon nodded. ‘So if we buy their collective testimony, the parents are in the clear.’ He pondered for a moment. ‘We’ll need to dig deeper on that. Parents do kill their children.’ He paused then added in barely a murmur, ‘And vice versa.’
    Laird flipped his notebook closed. ‘And if we clear the Stanforths?’
    Bannon shrugged. ‘The best we can hope for is some drifter wandered past, lured Billy into the shed and torched him after doing God knows what.’
    ‘Let’s hope that’s it,’ said Laird. ‘Kids shouldn’t be killing kids.’
    ‘Any of them seem wrong to you, Wally?’
    ‘Wrong, boss?’
    ‘Kids argue. Kids fight.’ Bannon shrugged as though the rest was obvious.
    ‘No one stood out,’ answered Laird. ‘And they mostly alibi each other.’
    ‘Mostly?’
    ‘One lad, the deceased’s best friend, Edward Mullen, known as Teddy, was the only one alone when the fire started.’
    ‘Where?’
    ‘In the house. Or so he says.’
    ‘Any reason to disbelieve him?’ asked Bannon.
    ‘Not from the reaction to his friend’s death,’ said Laird. ‘He was beyond distraught, wailing and crying like a girl.’
    ‘Guilty conscience maybe,’ ventured Bannon.
    ‘There was talk of an argument between them but it was pretty minor,’ added Laird.
    ‘It may seem minor to us,’ commented Bannon. ‘Look into it. Any other possibilities?’ He sensed Laird had more to say and was keen to get to it.
    ‘William Stanforth’s older sister, Amelia. She’s nearly sixteen, though why she’d kill her little brother, God alone knows.’
    ‘Forget motive, Wally,’ said Bannon. ‘And you can ask God later. What about her alibi?’
    ‘Also unclear. No one saw her until the fire had started.’
    ‘Then she’s a suspect.’
    ‘She doesn’t seem the type, boss.’
    ‘There’s a type now?’ snapped Bannon. His expression softened at once. ‘Sorry. It’s been. . .’ Bannon shook his head, unable to go on.
    ‘Forget it, boss. You should go home.’
    ‘I will,’ nodded Bannon. ‘But I want to be kept in the loop.’ He eyed his detective constable. ‘There’s something else, isn’t there?’
    Laird affected reluctance before grinning. ‘Amelia has a boyfriend,’ he answered. ‘Older.’
    ‘Who?’
    Laird smiled suddenly, savouring Bannon’s coming reaction. ‘We’re in Kirk Langley, boss. And it’s a small place.’
    Bannon stared at his colleague for a moment before realisation started to work on his face. ‘Not young McCleary?’
    Laird grinned again. ‘The very same. And he was seen by neighbours standing in the lane before the fire. Apparently he was supposed to be meeting Amelia last evening but she was busy at the party and stood him up.’
    ‘Which might make someone like him angry,’ reasoned Bannon.
    ‘Maybe even vengeful,’ added Laird.
    Bannon smiled for the first time. ‘I suppose with a father like Malcolm, it was only a matter of time before young Brendan stepped up to the big leagues. Pick him up.’
    Malcolm McCleary staggered into the kitchen in his stained long johns, running a hand through his unkempt, greying hair. Barefoot, he was forced to avoid the discarded beer bottles on the sticky floor before slumping on to a chair at the flimsy dining table. The surface was covered in dirty plates and full ashtrays and McCleary poked through the remains of discarded butts for enough stray tobacco to fill a cigarette paper. While doing this he raised a bleary eye towards his son lying on the too-small couch, puffing away on his own roll-up.
    ‘Give me a cigarette,’ ordered McCleary senior.
    ‘I got mine where you’re getting yours,’ said Brendan, with barely concealed disdain.
    McCleary senior’s grizzled features were deformed by hate. ‘You cheap little bleeder. Can’t even buy some gaspers for your old man after all I’ve done for you? What about breakfast?’
    Brendan shook his head slowly, avoiding eye contact. ‘Parlour’s