Saturday, July 28, 2012

Dead Rite chapter 119.05

White shone his torch into the room. The dog was lying on its side, stiff and dry on a piece of heavily stained carpet. Its skin looked as tight as a drum over the skeleton but like all natural mummifications, he knew that decomposition would resume if the corpse became damp. His torchlight seemed to sink into the empty eye sockets. “At least we know he pays the heating bills.”

“Then why is there mould in the kitchen?”

“Maybe the roof leaks.” White shone his torch back a the hall floor. “I'm not an environmental expert, you know. I merely make deductions based upon the evidence presented.”

“That's not what you did in Jim Hunt's office. You accused him of putting people in freezers just because it fitted a theory you had. Probably based on an old film shown on Channel Four.”

“I was right, though. Did you see the look on his face? I got him rumbled, you mark my words.” White stepped around a grandfather clock with the case stuffed full of old copies of The Laverstone Advertiser.

Peters pulled out a copy from the bottom of the pile. “Blimey. Nineteen eighty four? I was only a nipper.”

“What's the headline?”

“Farewell, market hall.” I don't even remember the market hall.”

“It was where the bus depot is now. Marvellous old building. Pulling that down was a crime I wish I could have investigated. Single-span wrought iron roof. Beautiful.”

“Why did they pull it down?”

“It was dangerous, supposedly. The council couldn't afford to repair it so it got sold as a brownbelt site. There were a few council members with big, fat bonuses that year.”

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