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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

Unbelievable. It was me who had noticed the pattern in the itinerary of the circus, me who had followed it up and checked against other unsolved cases to confirm the pattern, and me who had presented the information to the DI. So why the hell was it me who had been left behind at the station when the hotshots went down to investigate?

Despite the protest from my lungs and legs, I upped the pace even more.

I’d provided the first significant break in the murder of Rose-Marie Bateman, and possibly unearthed something huge and sinister, and once again I’d been left in the dust, sidelined, discarded like some spent wad of chewing gum. Then, to top it all off, when I finally got home, that shit-heap of a car was still marooned outside the gate, and I had to park two blocks away from my own bloody house. I reached the Highgate Bridge and stopped, bending over, hands on knees, trying to suck in enough oxygen to satisfy my body’s screaming need. The urge to vomit was another of its unsubtle ways of telling me to stop, but I was too pissed off to listen. Not even the panoramic view across this harbour city could evoke a flicker of appreciation today.

‘Ah, fuck it.’

I stood upright and forcibly propelled myself forward. I wasn’t through with this yet.

15

Your car has been parked here for over two weeks and is restricting our access to our gate. Can you please shift it to another position if the car is not in regular use? That would be greatly appreciated.

Thank you.

340 Highgate.

That was pretty polite. I’d considered putting Shift your shit-heap right now or I’ll tow its arse but didn’t think it would go down that well. My handwriting was a bit dodgy, and it had taken a lot of concentration to control the adrenaline tremor. It wasn’t helped by my still-sweaty hand slipping on the pen. But it was first things first – I hadn’t showered and changed yet as I’d wanted to do this little task while I was in the right mood. I lifted the windscreen wiper up and popped the note underneath. There was a clean line in the dusty windshield where the wiper blade had been resting. Yet another indicator of how long the car had been stuck here – that, and an ever-growing colony of spiders and their architecture in the wing mirror. I had clapped eyes on the owner once. With a heap like that I’d have thought it belonged to a scruffy no-hoper, but the guy was actually quite tidy looking. It probably never occurred to him that leaving his car there could be a major pain to anyone else – inconsiderate bastard.