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Back The Ringmaster Save as PDF
Chapters (73)
  1. Cover
  2. The Ringmaster
  3. Contents
  4. Prologue
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. 51
  56. 52
  57. 53
  58. 54
  59. 55
  60. 56
  61. 57
  62. 58
  63. 59
  64. 60
  65. 61
  66. 62
  67. 63
  68. 64
  69. 65
  70. 66
  71. Epilogue
  72. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  73. Copyright

‘So you think those other deaths are linked?’

Speculation had hit the newspapers, so I wasn’t breaking any confidences. ‘Looks that way.’

‘Wow, that’s serious. Do you think you’re getting close?’

‘Getting closer. The whole circus thing drew our attention in the wrong direction, I think. But we’re piecing it all together, and we’ll catch our man.’

‘Good. Someone like that needs to be put away for everyone’s safety. Does that information help?’

‘It helps me understand some of the intricacies of what was going on, so thanks. It’s almost as bad as police politics.’

‘I doubt it,’ he said, and I laughed in agreement. ‘Well, if there’s anything else I can help with, just ask. And I meant what I said earlier: if you want me to, I’ll track down the person who’s hassling you, have a word – sort it out for you.’

‘Thanks,’ I said, ‘you’re very kind, but it’s being taken care of. Hopefully that’s the last I’ll hear.’

62

‘Maggs, I need your professional opinion on something.’

It was evening. I had successfully danced the eggshell hop around my mother over dinner and something miraculous had happened. She’d managed to not say anything judgemental or guilt-inducing and I’d managed to not stick my foot in it. I’d call it a draw. She’d gone back down to the hospital to annoy Dad and the nursing staff, and I’d retired to the comfy chairs in the lounge with a mug of Milo, a packet of Toffee Pops, Fluffy the bird-slayer and Maggie. Aunty Jude was off at some committee meeting and Uncle Phil had retired to his man cave. My nod to the strange events of the day was to make sure the curtains were firmly drawn.

‘For a start,’ she said as she leaned over and swiped the biscuit packet off me, ‘my professional advice would be to ring Paul, go out on lots of dates and shag him silly, then marry him, make lots of babies and live happily ever after. I think you’re on to a good thing there, Sam. Don’t ruin it.’

The only reason I didn’t throw a cushion at her was because she had a hot drink in her hand. But I resorted to the next adult technique in my arsenal and poked out my tongue.

‘Yeah, yeah. If I wanted advice on my love life, I’d ask someone who had one.’

‘Touché. What was it you wanted to ask me again?’

‘Actually, it’s about this case. Chuck us another biscuit, please.’ One flew obligingly through the air.

‘And you think I can help you, how?’

‘I need a criminal profile.’

‘Oh, okay, no problem, hang on. I think I keep them here in my back pocket along with future lottery numbers and next week’s racing results.’