No Sorrow To Die
Heather Brodie kisses her lover good night. But back at home her disabled husband lies dead, his throat cut from ear to ear. Many people wanted Gavin Brodie dead, including Gavin Brodie. Devastated by an incurable illness he had pleaded to be allowed to die. Detective Sergeant Alice Rice investigates when another terminally ill man wakes to find someone with a knife in his bedroom. Is this just a coincidence? Or is there a serial killer on the loose with a mission to get rid of the sick? Alice has troubles of her own when she finds that her partner, Ian Melville, is lying to her.
Elaine Bell took her place at the front of the room and the murmur of quiet chatter died away. Eric Manson, his lips blue with cold, shuffled towards the only remaining vacant chair. ‘Good news. I’ve just heard that Clerk was refused bail …’ the DCI began. A spontaneous ripple of applause filled the air, reaching a crescendo when, acknowledging it, she took a bow and pointed at all of them as a conductor might at an orchestra. ‘But …’ she continued, ‘I also heard that he’s appealing the
I knew nothing about him, I promise you. Nothing, I promise you. His mother, Paula, never let me know that she was pregnant. I lived with her for a little while on and off when I was in St Bernard’s Row, but it was never serious for either of us.’ ‘Why is she telling you about the boy now?’ ‘She isn’t. She didn’t. It wasn’t her. She didn’t tell me, it was her sister. Paula died in a car accident about two months ago …’ ‘So, why didn’t you tell me that, about the boy? Why lie?’ He sighed. ‘I
‘but after those letters I knew. I thought he had finally listened to his father, put him out of his misery. He felt he owed it to him. That he couldn’t bear the thought of him in a home.’ ‘What letters?’ ‘The Genetic Counselling Service one, I found it on top of the hall table in his flat and I couldn’t resist taking a look. They wanted to counsel him about Huntingdon’s. He must have decided to have the test and heard he’s got it. It must have been positive.’ ‘Why didn’t you tell me,
enquiringly from his seat by the window. ‘Yes,’ she said shortly, lowering herself heavily into her chair, ‘it was Thomas.’ ‘Stupid bastard.’ ‘He’s just offered his resignation.’ ‘Good. So he should. And the aunt, do we know yet why she drugged the man and cut his throat?’ ‘Lost her nerve, apparently, that’s what she said anyway. She wasn’t sure about the drugs, she wasn’t sure they’d be strong enough. She gave him most of the bottle, most of two bottles, in fact. She says he became
over-tired too, that explained it. Or maybe, he was getting a cold from that sickly baby sneezing all over him. Anyway, nothing like a bout of righteous anger to drive the blues away, he decided, egging himself on by thinking about all the hours that they had spent on the Brodie woman’s lies, not to mention her fancy-man’s contributions. Wasting all their precious time and muddying the waters terribly. But that poor teacher, that poor bloody woman. Unworldly, a holy fool. In some ways too good