Read Online Fit to Kill by James Heneghan - Free Book Online Page A

you like Christmas?” she asked, flushing slightly under his scrutiny.
    He shrugged. “You?”
    â€œParts of it I like. It’s nostalgia really. What made you come to Canada, Casey?”
    He shrugged again. “A Belfast bomb killed eight innocent victims in a shopping center. Three of them were my parents and my only sibling, a brother. His name was Eamon. I was twenty-five. Eamon was twenty-two. I should have been with them, but I was late. I decided I could no longer live in a city of barbarians.” He sipped his coffee. “What about you?”
    â€œI came to the same conclusion. A Protestant bullet killed my kid sister in the crossfire on the main street of Derry. Annie was only seventeen.”
    They sat in silence for a minute, remembering, thinking their own thoughts.
    At Killarney Place, Casey watched Emma let herself into the lobby, then turn and wave.
    He waved back and then headed home.
    MONDAY, DECEMBER 25
    It rained on Christmas Day. The Wexlers had invited Casey to have dinner with them, Midge insisting that he come. But he had turned them down, telling a white lie about a previous engagement. He ate Christmas dinner alone, his preference— drunken prawns at the Thai House. He sat at his table for almost an hour after his meal, drinking Thai tea and reading Ozeroff ’s Christmas gift, Walking the Dog , a collection of short stories by fellow Irishman Bernard MacLaverty. In this way he enjoyed his Christmas. No small talk, no dressing up, no false sentiment.
    WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 27
    Emma asked him if there was any news on the West End killer. They were in a crowded Devlin’s, their wet raincoats hanging near the door.
    â€œNothing.”
    â€œI read a report in your paper by Wexler— is that his name?”
    He nodded. “Jack Wexler.”
    â€œHe mentions that all the victims are linked to the fitness center. They all worked out in the gym on the nights they were murdered. He thinks the killer could be a member who goes to the gym regularly.”
    â€œIt looks that way.”
    â€œThat’s scary.”
    Casey nodded.
    Emma said, “Wexler interprets the words flaunted her nakedness in the killer’s letter to refer to women’s tights and bodysuits. Women who flaunt their bodies. Harlots.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWell, there’s one thing your friend Wexler fails to mention.”
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    â€œThe killer takes liberties with scripture. He uses several versions of the Bible—the King James, the New International and the New Revised Standard—because his quotation, the one printed in the paper, is a mixture of two or three versions. Understand what I mean?”
    â€œHe reads the different versions and then chooses the bits he likes best.”
    â€œRight. He could have something like The New Layman’s Parallel Bible, which compares several versions, all laid out on the page so you can see the differences. The second thing he does is, he edits scripture.”
    â€œHe leaves words out?”
    â€œNo, but he adds his own words.”
    â€œHe does?”
    â€œDo you remember the bit ‘I will cut off her nose and her ears’?”
    â€œI do.”
    â€œWell, he adds, ‘and yea her very head.’”
    â€œThat isn’t in Ezekiel?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œAre you sure?”
    â€œOf course I’m sure. Tell Wexler he can check it for himself.”
    â€œI’ll tell him. Thanks.”
    â€œI don’t suppose knowing that the killer tampers with the written word will help much in catching him though.”
    â€œHe can pass it on to the police. You never know. Every little bit helps.”
    Emma turned her head toward the window and gave a frightened gasp.
    Casey followed her glance. Pope was outside, standing in the rain, his face pressed up against the window as he stared in at them. When he saw that they had seen him, he grinned, waved and hurried