Caught in the Web by Emmy Ellis (classic english novels .TXT) 📕

ink. Spittle came from the sides of her black-toothed mouth, her eyes coloured in with red. She had a generous pair of tits on her, spilling out of a low-necked top, so Burgess surmised that Fuc  ng Bi ch was a fully grown woman.

More words sat beneath the picture.

 

GOING TO HAVE TO DO IT ALL OVER AGAIN.

Burgess’ mind had a tendency to be fanciful at times, but even if it hadn’t, he had no trouble joining the dots here. This had to be a reference to killing Anita—and the mention of ‘again’ meant Gordon Varley had more than possibly committed the murders of Emily and Thomas Hornton. Maybe even someone else, too. If Burgess was wrong, so be it, but his gut told a different story. His instinct was to believe it.

He turned the page and jumped, almost throwing the book. This time a crude drawing of a spider—fuck me sideways, that’s ugly—filled the top half of the page, and words, written by a seemingly calmer hand, sat below in a neat paragraph.

She is poison, so I must get poison. What she spewed out at me in life will be inside her in death. I will make sure she goes knowing that her mouth, which was so stuffed with that poison, will be stuffed with it again. She’ll be unable to spit it out at me, those horrible words, because she won’t be able to talk. Once she’s gone again, I’ll be safe. Happy. Why have her words come back inside my mind after all this time? Why couldn’t she just go the first time and leave me alone? Don’t I deserve happiness? Was she right all those years? That I didn’t deserve a good life because I’d ruined hers? I could have ruined it even more by telling her secret, but I kept it. Kept it all to myself. Didn’t want the smacks that would come with me letting anyone know. And she would have smacked.

The thing—it had venom in it. So had the moth from this morning been venomous, too? Or did the creatures mean something else entirely? And had anyone from the team found out anything about that sodding moth and where it had come from yet? He needed to check with them about that.

His phone rang, and he placed the book back in the slot on the shelf then took off his latex glove in order to swipe his phone screen.

“Burgess.”

“You said not to bother you unless it was something that couldn’t wait,” Denton said. “But there’s another body, sir.”

“What?” Shit. “Are you sure it’s related to our case? I don’t want to leave here unless it’s absolutely vital.” There shouldn’t be another one. Only two if he’s following the same pattern.

“Yes, sir. Moth in the mouth. Another male. Found by a dog walker at a different part of the canal.”

“Fucking hell. Where exactly?” He waited while Denton gave directions. “On my way. Any news with the witness from Wingman Street?”

“Just about to start interviewing him now, sir, but—”

“What about news from the zoo? The moth?”

“Um, hang on a second.” Papers rustled. “It’s an Oak moth. Poisonous fur or whatever it’s covered in, but it says here that’s more likely on the caterpillar. But, sir—”

“All right. Good. Thanks.” Burgess ended the call.

Shaw came into the room. “Nothing elsewhere so far except for the books in here so— What’s wrong?”

“Another body.” Burgess hit Emerson’s name on his phone contacts and spoke as soon as the man answered. “Sorry to call you in early, but I need some help here.” He brought Emerson up to speed. “So as you can see, I can’t be two places at once, even though I want to be.” His phone bleeped with a call waiting. “Two seconds, got another call.” He switched over. “Yes?”

Denton again. “The suspect accessed Facebook, sir. He now has his location on. He’s over the road from you in Squatter’s Rights.”

“What the fuck?”

Burgess’ mind swam, and he looked at the school book spines. Blue, burgundy, that bloody beige colour again. Should he apprehend the killer or visit the body? Shit. Shit. “Thanks, Denton. Tell Lewis to get down to the suspect’s flat. I need a more senior officer on site.” Then he went back to Emerson’s call. “Emerson, you’ll have to view the body. Suspect has been located.” He reeled off the latest victim’s whereabouts. “Can you let the DCI know what’s going on, thanks.” He swiped his screen to close the call.

Shaw stared at him, eyes wide, mouth ajar. “Where is he?”

“Only over the fucking road. In the pub.” Burgess snapped off his other glove then shoved both into his pocket. He raced from the room and into the kitchen, where one of the officers poked through the freezer. “The suspect’s over the road. I need you here. In charge until Lewis arrives.”

The officer tipped his head. “Yes, sir.”

“Main job, those notebooks in the living room. Get what you need from your car and bag them up individually. I need them taken to the station sharpish.”

Am I stalling? I should be in the pub by now.

“Get a move on, will you?” Shaw said from the doorway.

Burgess raised a hand then went in search of another officer, who he found in the bedroom. The sight of a quilt covered in spiders took Burgess by surprise, and he backed out, averting his gaze.

“You,” Burgess said, digging in his pocket for some keys. “I need you to go to my mother’s house, all right?” He told him the address and handed the keys over—thank God she’d given him some when he’d dropped her at the hotel. “Can you remember that?”

The officer nodded.

“I want you to go into her bedroom,” Burgess went on. “First door on the right at the top of the stairs. There’s a wooden box on