A Room Full of Killers by Michael Wood (spanish books to read .TXT) 📕

to choose from. Since she had inherited the collection from Jonathan Harkness, there were probably more books in her home than in this so-called library. Her eyes fell on similar editions to the ones she had, though hers were in much better condition. Books by Simon Kernick, Tom Rob Smith and Peter Robinson stood out and made her smile. She felt comfortable and at home among books, just like Jonathan Harkness had.

She coughed to make her presence felt. Thomas jumped and placed a hand to his chest.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.’

‘That’s OK.’ Thomas closed his book and stood up. To Matilda it looked like he was standing out of respect for a woman entering the room, or was it to attention?

‘Is it a good book?’

‘Yes.’

‘What is it?’

He lifted up the book and showed Matilda the cover: The Legacy of Hartlepool Hall by Paul Torday.

Matilda smiled. ‘I’ve only read Salmon Fishing in the Yemen.’

‘I read that last week.’

‘Do you spend a lot of time in here?’

‘Yes. I think I’m the only one here at the moment who reads for pleasure.’

‘Do you mind if I sit down?’

‘No. Go ahead.’

Matilda sat on the opposite side of the table to Thomas. He waited until she was settled before he pulled out his chair and sat back down. He played with the dog-eared book in front of him. His fingers were thin and shaking. Matilda looked at his stiff frame. She tried to read the expression on his face but there was nothing there. His eyes darted rapidly from left to right. It was as if he wanted to make eye contact with Matilda but couldn’t.

‘Is Paul Torday your favourite author?’ Matilda asked, not really knowing what to talk about.

‘I don’t have a favourite. I read a couple of Agatha Christie books a few weeks back. They were good.’

‘Poirot?’

‘Yes. Death on the Nile and, I can’t remember the other. A young man was on death row and Poirot helped to get him off.’

‘Mrs McGinty’s Dead.’

Blimey, how did I know that?

‘That’s the one. I liked that one.’ He smiled which seemed to light up his face, briefly.

‘I have quite a collection myself. Mostly crime fiction.’

Thomas sniggered. ‘As a detective you’d think you’d want something else to relax with at the end of the day.’

‘Well, I inherited the collection.’

‘That was very generous. Handed down through generations.’

‘No. It was from a fr—’ Jonathan Harkness could hardly be called a friend, though she did like him. What was he? An acquaintance?

‘Do you want to question me about Ryan Asher again?’ he asked.

‘No. I was passing and thought you could do with some company for a few minutes.’

‘Company?’

‘Yes. A chat maybe.’

‘About what?’

‘I don’t know. Is there anything you’d like to talk about?’

‘I don’t think so.’ Thomas frowned.

‘Have you seen the film of Salmon Fishing in the Yemen?’ Matilda asked after an awkward silence.

‘Yes. I didn’t like it.’

‘Neither did I. Thomas, can I ask you a personal question?’

This time he did make eye contact with Matilda. She was taken aback. She saw straight through his stare and into an empty and broken soul.

‘OK.’

‘Why are you here?’

‘Because they think I killed my mum and dad and my sister,’ he replied, his voice breaking slightly.

‘And did you?’

It was a while before Thomas could speak. He swallowed and opened and closed his mouth a few times as if trying to get the words out before the tears came.

‘No,’ he croaked.

Matilda could feel her heart beating rapidly inside her chest. ‘So who did?’

‘I don’t know. All I know is that it wasn’t me.’

It would be wrong of Matilda to say she would help him get released. It would be wrong for her to go around to his side of the table, hold him and tell him everything was going to be all right. However, that’s what she wanted to do. She knew the second she laid eyes on him that he didn’t belong in Starling House, and she now had confirmation, of sorts.

She sat back in her chair and looked intently at the young man in front of her. What was going on behind those wide, dull eyes? He obviously spent his days reading to try to block out the nightmare he was living, but what about at night when he was locked in his room? His mind was probably torturing him, trying to make sense of the cruel hand life had dealt him. He looked sad and resigned to the fact he would be spending the rest of his life behind bars. Had he given up? Had he accepted his fate? It would appear so.

‘Are you OK here? Any trouble?’

‘No, to both questions.’ He gave an awkward smile. ‘Well, there wasn’t any trouble until Ryan was killed.’

‘I meant are you having any trouble? Some of the inmates seem a bit … well, full of themselves.’

‘Callum Nixon? I’ve learned to ignore him.’

‘Good.’

‘I read about you?’

‘Sorry?’

‘On the internet. The Carl Meagan case.’

‘Oh that. Yes. Not my finest hour.’ She gave a nervous smile.

‘You’re a good copper though. I was reading about the Jonathan Harkness case. You got him after twenty years. That’s something to be proud of, surely?’

Except I thought he was innocent.

‘I should be going,’ Matilda said, scraping back her chair. She wanted to question him further about his family, their background and what led to their deaths, but the mention of Carl and Jonathan made her want to flee.

‘Sorry. Have I said something I shouldn’t?’

‘No. I just need to get back to work.’

Matilda stood at the door, her hand gripping the brass handle. She turned back to see Thomas engrossed once again in his book. She opened her mouth to say something but nothing came out. What could she say?

Matilda left the building quickly. There was a stiff breeze blowing as she made her way over to her battered Ford Focus. Before she drove away she looked back at the threatening building. Behind those thick walls were murderers, arsonists, and rapists. There was also one innocent and petrified young man.

THIRTY-ONE

Matilda wasn’t