Hard Fall

Текст добавлен: 8 октября 2016, 17:54

Текст книги "Hard Fall"

Автор книги: P. T. Reade

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TWELVE

Revelations.

Elizabeth had offered to pay me a handsome wage for the case, but I had declined. Another surprising appearance of the altruistic Thomas Blume. Was I going soft? Sure, I could use the money, but I’d figured she wasn’t a wealthy woman anymore and probably couldn’t afford it these days. Especially after paying for the second funeral of her dead son.

I was an asshole, but not that much of an asshole.

I paid my respects to Jack and the other kids from afar. Covered in bruises and stitches, I didn’t want to shock any of the already distraught parents at the cemetery. I’d stood on the other side of the churchyard, away from the crowd, silently hoping the kids found the peace in death that they’d had taken from them in life.

I noticed Elizabeth’s thin smile at the funeral—a kind of resigned sadness—and understood completely. Elizabeth Ellington would never know the joy of her son again, but she might find some peace for the first time in a decade, and that was something. In a world of uncertainty and pain, perhaps that was all we could ask for at this point.

I wondered if this would be my fate too. Digging into the death of my family was nothing but hurt and questions. Would I get the closure I needed, or would it end up poisoning me with suspicion and darkness like Amir warned?

Maybe it would. That’s why I had decided to renew the ad Amir had posted in the paper for me. The Ellington case had helped me get back in the saddle; it had helped me stay focused, and my voicemail was already brimming with enquiries.

Thomas Blume, Private Investigator.

It was official, at least according to my new business cards. I had a job and I would continue helping people, taking work where I could and where I was needed.

In the meantime, however, I would not forget the duty I had to my family. I would find their killer. And now I had somewhere to start; a huge lead had just presented itself at an unexpected time.

As I’d been rummaging through those sacks in Bennett’s farm, a thought had hit me. I had held little Jack Ellington’s shirt in my hand and had seen the strange collection of notebooks and kids’ toys scattered around. I had been reminded of the cloth found under the fingernails of my own son.

I’d never questioned it before. When the coroner had shown me the patch of burned skin and twisted flesh that used to be my family, I had gone numb. I couldn’t comprehend what I had seen.

But looking back, visualizing the crime scene photos I had burned into my mind, I realized something shocking.

The Blackened room. Sarah’s ruined body sprawled on the sofa. Tommy, face down on the floor, left hand outstretched clutching his favorite orange toy gun.

But there had been something wrong with that image. Tommy had been right-handed.

Epilogue

The figure in the dark suit leaned across the table and eyed the second man on the other side. They were silent, the room weighed down by the envelope on the table between them.

“Tell me,” the man in the suit said. “What happened to this washed-up drunk you promised me? I thought this Blume character was supposed to be a joke.” He spoke with a clipped accent, an unnerving pause after certain words.

“Even drunks can be motivated from time to time,” the second man said.

“Have you lost your ability to keep an eye on him?”

“Absolutely not. When news gets out that he cracked this Ellington thing, he’ll be swamped with business. If he stays busy, he’s not a problem for us.”

After a slight hesitation, the man in the suit pushed the envelope over to the second man. He accepted the envelope and peeked inside. He counted the £50 notes quickly and then nodded.

“Another thing,” the suited man said as he stood to leave. “This ordeal with Blume’s wife and son. Can we be certain that he will not discover the truth?”

“Nothing is certain,” the second man said, “but we can do our part, at least.”

“And what is yours?”

The second man smiled, tapping the envelope of money. “To make sure he never finds out what really happened to them.”

The suited man nodded and took his leave, confidently pacing towards the restaurant exit.

As he reached the door, he paused and called back, “Always nice working with you, Amir.”

“Likewise,” Amir said, tapping his fingers on the envelope of money. “Likewise.”

READY FOR MORE?

Continue the adventure…

Snow Burn (Thomas Blume Book 2)

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A hacker, a body and a mystery that goes right to the top…

Thomas Blume is back, and this time he's deep in a case that could shake the very foundation of the country.

Hired to find a hacker with shocking government secrets, Blume works to find the man, and stop the leak.

But when the bodies start piling up and everyone in the city seems out to get him, Blume must battle against the odds and team up with a new ally if he is to survive.

In an investigation that will take him from swanky nightclubs to rundown factories and the very heart of British government. Can Blume crack the case and uncover the truth behind the fate of his family?

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Red Hunt (Thomas Blume Book 3)

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She is beautiful…but is she a killer?

When sultry model Christina Bishop is discovered unconscious next to the body of her manager, all fingers point to her as the suspect.

Accused of murder, she disappears into the London underworld, leaving behind her frantic boyfriend and angry police.

Thomas Blume is hired to find Christina and prove her innocence, but not before a shocking turn of events leaves him wondering if he is chasing a ghost.

Now, Blume must face the demons of his own past and battle through the bright lights and dark secrets of the city as he races to reach Christina before the Police.

In a case where nothing is as it seems, can Blume get to the bottom of the case and find the real killer?

Get Your Copy Now!

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COPYRIGHT

This publication (and any by this author) may not be copied or reproduced in any format, by any means – electronic or otherwise – without prior consent from the copyright owner or publisher.

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Table of Contents

Prologue

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE