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

God, that man’s voice is like a squeaky hinge.

“Dad?” Varley narrowed his eyes.

Yeah, you’re testing me. I get it.

Burgess didn’t answer. Instead, he sat where Emerson had, beside Flemmings. Emerson remained by the closed door.

Quint gave Burgess a frown and a slight shake of his head.

Don’t lie? Oh, I won’t be lying.

“I’m not your father,” Burgess said. “You know that. And I think you know who I really am, you just haven’t admitted it to yourself yet. Like I haven’t properly admitted who you are.”

“But you have the same name. And you look like him,” Varley said, his voice more mannish now.

“Your father, and my father—dead.” Burgess wasn’t in the mood for sugar-coating anything. If he did, it might mean he cared. Which he didn’t. “And as you told me and Detective Shaw Peters in Squatter’s Rights, you watched your father’s murder. Who is she?”

Varley screwed his face up. “No, I’m not talking to you. Go away, fucking bitch.”

“All right.” Burgess rose.

“Not you,” Varley said. “I wasn’t saying that to you.”

Burgess lowered back to his seat. “So?”

“She took me to see Beautiful Lady, and Beautiful Lady slapped her. Then she took me to see my dad at the shiny building. It was so hot. And she hit him with some wood until he bled all over the place. Is your name William?”

“No.” There were so many questions that Burgess didn’t know where to go next. He wanted to know about his father’s death more than anything, but he owed it to Anita and the two male victims to ask about them, too. And Emily and Thomas Hornton. “Did you kill your mother and your stepfather?”

“I killed her and The Man. I sent them away so they couldn’t smack me anymore.” Varley gazed at the tabletop.

Fuck. Abused? I didn’t want to hear that. “Why did they smack you?”

“Because I’m a fucking ugly kid. I was in the way. She couldn’t live her life the way she wanted because I was there. And Gran wanted me, but she wouldn’t let me go.”

“That doesn’t make sense. If she didn’t want you, why not let you live with your gran?”

“Because she wanted to prove to Gran that she could bring me up on her own.” He paused. Frowned. “I will tell him. I will bloody tell him, you fucking bitch. Don’t you try to keep me quiet now.”

Burgess looked at everyone around the table in turn, then to Emerson at the door, then the uniform, who stood against the right-hand wall. Burgess shrugged and widened his eyes.

“Did you kill Anita Curtis and two other men?” Might as well be direct.

“I killed Anita, The Man Point Two, and The Man Point Three.”

It was apparent that a medical assessment was needed. Burgess wasn’t prepared to go on for much longer, as Varley was getting visibly distressed, twitching his body and drumming his feet on the floor. No matter how much Burgess wanted information, no matter how vile a killer this man was, he was still a human being, and Burgess wouldn’t have any hand in upsetting him unnecessarily.

Why change now? Why care about a killer being a human being now? Is that because he’s related to me?

Burgess would try one more thing to secure a proper confession, then he was out of there. He opened the file Emerson had brought in with him and searched for the photos he needed.

“Did you steal this? And this?” Burgess shuddered as he slid the images across the desk.

Varley stared at them. “I stole the tarantula from Amazing Arachnids but bought the moth from the zoo man.”

“I see. Mr Varley has looked at evidence numbers E-fifty-one and E-fifty-two.” Burgess slid the images beneath the folder then selected photocopies of pictures from the murder files of Emily and Thomas Hornton. “Did you kill these people?”

“I did.” Varley sniffed. “That is her and The Man.” He closed his eyes.

“Mr Varley has looked at evidence numbers E-fifty-three and E-fifty-four.” Burgess took out images of Anita and the two male victims. “Here we have evidence numbers E-fifty-five, E-Fifty-six, and E-fifty-seven. I am showing them to Mr Varley now. Mr Varley, did you kill these people?”

Varley opened his eyes. “I did. I know who you are. You’re that boy in the park and the boy who stood behind Beautiful Lady on the day she slapped her. You were at the house when I was watching this morning. I thought you were William, but you’re not. Beautiful Lady is your mother?”

You know she is.

“You’ve got the same father as me.” Twitch. Twitch. “Piss off, bitch.” He drummed his feet harder. “I’m in the web. Caught in the web. Stop putting it on me. The spider, it’s crawling on my face. The moth’s flapping.” He calmed—chilling—and stared at Burgess. “William didn’t want me, but he wanted you. That isn’t very fair, is it?”

“No.” Burgess didn’t know what else to say, but he glanced at Quint, all but begging him to call a halt on this interview, to stop Burgess from proceeding, from finding out more—for his own benefit. Varley’s mannerisms were bothering him. As was the idea the man might turn violent. A psychiatrist needed to take over and find out the significance of the spider and moth. “No, it isn’t very fair at all, but that wasn’t your fault.”

“No, and it wasn’t my fault I killed all those people. She made me do it. Her and The Man. I love you, Gran.”

If no one else was going to call time, Burgess would do it. “Interview suspended at…” He glanced at his watch then reeled off the time. “Suspect needs a break and a medical evaluation.”

Burgess got up, not looking at Varley but at Emerson. He shrugged an apology, said, “Help yourself to coffee.”

Emerson