Witch Hunt - By Syd Moore Page 0,70

picked up on it too. I changed my tone.

‘Sadly her evidence nailed the guilty verdicts and the death sentences. That whetted Hopkins’ appetite and got him thinking up the rest of the campaign. Who knows what might have happened or not happened if she hadn’t taken to the witness stand? The accused might have got off. In which case Hopkins might have lost interest and gone back to his shipping business instead.’

Flick was staring at me. ‘Really?’

‘Unfortunately so. Without Rebecca’s testimony the whole witch hunt might not have taken place.’

‘Shit. Flick’s eyes roamed over the papers spread between us. ‘She had a lot to be sorry for.’

‘She has,’ I said slowly, then corrected my tense. ‘Though it wasn’t her fault. Let’s not forget that. It was Hopkins who was the driving force behind the witch hunt.’

‘It was indeed,’ Flick nodded. ‘So shall we get to it then?’ she said. ‘Try and even up the score a bit?’

‘Let’s,’ I said and smiled. ‘The old bastard will be turning in his grave.’

‘Good,’ Flick said simply.

I didn’t leave the pub for another two hours. Once she got going Flick was like a terrier, she wouldn’t leave anything alone that she didn’t thoroughly understand. Though I wasn’t convinced she was being completely open with me, I admired her for her thorough approach.

When I had taken her through most of the research I asked her to keep me abreast of any developments.

She nodded. ‘Email all right?’

‘Phone or text is better. I’m planning on going to Manningtree tomorrow. Where it all started.’

Felicity swallowed and grimaced. ‘Fantastic,’ she said.

When I got back to the flat I was knackered. Night had come down quickly and sent messages to my subconscious telling it to go to sleep. Although I didn’t have a hangover I felt seedy and flicked the TV on for company. Automatically I kicked off my shoes and padded over to the windows to shut the curtains.

Though I hadn’t noticed it when I came into the flat I saw now that they were already drawn.

That was weird.

This morning I had done this whole thing about throwing them open and letting the dwindling October daylight in. I clearly remembered doing it.

Perhaps I had closed them without registering before I’d gone out.

But that wasn’t like me. I wasn’t that organised.

I unlocked the balcony doors and slipped outside. It was cold and windy: the moon was quietly tugging in the water. I thought briefly about having a cigarette, got put off by the force of the wind so turned and stepped back into the artificial warmth of the flat. The difference in temperature brought to my attention something else that I hadn’t noticed before – an atypical smell in the flat: the putrid stench of a feral base thing. I winced.

Something must have gone off.

But I was too tired to root it out and instead lit a scented candle then crashed onto the sofa and did a quick channel surf.

Under the loft’s eaves dark unseen things rustled. The scratching was louder. I really needed to sort it out. But right then I just didn’t have the energy and pumped the volume up to drown out the disturbance.

Something splashed on my face, causing me to jump with a jolt.

For a second I was completely baffled, then I put my hand up to my cheek and wiped it. A dark viscous fluid smeared across my fingers. Reddish, the colour of blood.

Another droplet fell, onto my arm this time. I looked up at the ceiling. A dark russet stain was blooming above me. A couple more gobs fell in quick succession, one hitting me in the eye, momentarily blinding me. I wiped it away with a tissue. The stuff was escaping from something in the attic. I knew there were at least three water tanks up there supplying the different flats. One of them must have gone rusty and sprung a leak.

I sniffed the fluid on my hand hearing, simultaneously, a loud crash above.

That was definitely not rats. Perhaps whatever was leaking was falling apart?

A sort of scraping sound moved across the ceiling, away from the location of the crash. Something was up there. Something solid, and very much alive.

As far as I could see I had two options – to flee from the flat or run downstairs to the new neighbours below me. I hadn’t met them yet.

If it was rats I would look like an utter idiot.

This was the downside of living on your own.

Of course there was the other option:

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