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

Pat had long since gone home leaving Matilda alone in the living room with her thoughts on Thomas Hartley and the riddle that was Debbie Hartley. Thomas was obviously anxious to see his aunt, so why hadn’t she visited? If she believed him to be guilty then why not reply to his letters asking him not to write anymore? In fact, why had she kept the letters at all?

‘I’m going to drive myself insane with all this, aren’t I?’ she said aloud to James’s photo on the mantelpiece. ‘What do you think? Is it Thomas or Debbie or someone else completely? I know what you’d tell me to do – concentrate on the Ryan Asher case and move on.’

Matilda sighed and hoisted herself up from the sofa. The living room was warm and comfortable. It was homely and felt lived in. The heat from the fire and the presence left by two good friends made the house feel like a home for the first time in more than eighteen months. She left the room and went into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea.

The kitchen was large with more fitted cupboards than was necessary. A handmade oak breakfast table and chairs in the corner of the room had been a gift from one of James’s friends when the house was complete. She flicked the kettle on and opened a cupboard for her mug. It wasn’t technically her mug; it was James’s but she used it all the time. While waiting for the kettle to boil she rested against the marble worktops – again this had been a dream of James’s. She smiled at the memories. James may no longer be with her in person but he was still in this house, and in her head. He was still looking after her; she could feel it.

She was settled in the large sofa with her tea, a packet of biscuits and the last hundred pages of a Val McDermid novel when a loud knock on the front door frightened the life out of her. It was just after eleven o’clock. Who called at this time of night?

Quietly, she walked to the solid windowless door and looked through the spyhole and instantly relaxed when she saw her caller. She pulled back the bolts at the top and bottom of the door, took off the security chain and unlocked the Chubb.

‘Dad, what the hell are you doing here at this time of night?’

‘I’ve come to see you,’ he smiled.

‘You’re soaked.’

‘That’ll be due to the rain. I’ll probably dry off if you let me in.’

‘Oh God, sorry.’ She stepped to one side. ‘Come on in. I’ll get you a towel. Is Mum with you?’

‘No. I dropped her off at her sister’s this lunchtime in Kettering. I thought I’d call in on my way home and see how my favourite daughter is doing.’

‘Don’t let Harriet hear you say that,’ Matilda said, handing him a towel she’d fetched from the kitchen. ‘Go through to the living room, the fire’s on. I’ll make you a cup of tea.’

Harriet? She hadn’t thought of her sister in a while. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d spoken to her. Didn’t one of her nephews have a birthday coming up? At some point, she must pop over to Grimsby and visit them.

When Matilda returned her father had pulled an armchair close to the fire and had his legs raised, warming his cold, damp feet.

Frank Doyle was tall and looked after himself. He walked whenever possible and played tennis three times a week. He had a sensible diet and had given up alcohol since a close friend had died from liver cancer three years before, not that he was big drinker to begin with. He was sixty-eight and had only recently started losing his hair.

‘Why has Mum gone to see Aunt Sophia in Kettering then?’

‘Sophia has got to have an operation and, well, you know what she’s like, bloody drama queen; she’s asked your mother to go and stay with her for a few days.’

‘What kind of operation?’

‘I’ve no idea. I was sent out of the room so I’m guessing it’s a woman problem.’ He smiled.

‘So you’ve got a few days of freedom?’

‘I certainly have.’ His smile grew. ‘I’m not sure whether to invite some of the lads round for an all-night poker game or throw a house party.’

‘You’ve not played poker for years and you hate parties.’

‘Yes, those are the only drawbacks.’

‘So I’m guessing you’ll be letting the dirty laundry pile up while you eat takeaways until Mum comes back.’

‘Very probably.’

‘Dad, I’m not on your way home.’

‘Sorry?’ he asked, innocently looking over his mug of tea at his daughter.

‘You have to pass the turning for Bakewell from Kettering to get to me. In fact, I’m quite a distance out of your way. And at this time of night, in these conditions, you’ve obviously come for a reason. Has Mum put you up to this?’

‘You’re a suspicious woman, Matilda Darke, do you know that?’

‘It’s my job.’

‘Take a night off.’

‘Come on, Dad, what’s the reason for your visit?’

‘Sophia asked how you were. We said you were fine. We know you don’t like people prying. Anyway, she’d bought that book about the missing boy, and while your mother and Sophia were talking I started reading it. It made me feel sad for you; the things that are said about you. I wanted to come and see how you were coping.’

Matilda swallowed hard and broke eye contact with her dad. The last thing she wanted him to see were tears welling up in her eyes. ‘Well, it’s not going to be a happy story, is it? Carl’s still missing. I failed to find him. It’s only natural that the parents are going to blame me.’

‘There were extenuating circumstances, Mat. James had just died.’

‘They don’t care about that. Besides, I should have handed the case over. I should have taken time off when James went into hospital that last time, but, as usual, I