Alex Gray - Five Ways to Kill a Man
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- Book:Five Ways to Kill a Man
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Five Ways to Kill a Man: summary, description and annotation
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As DCI Lorimer sees in the New Year, an unpredictable killer is loose on the streets of Glasgow . Hood up, suddenly appearing out of the shadows, this dark figure is experimenting with murder, again and again. Faced with a string of seemingly unconnected victims, and picking up the case of a horrific fire that murdered a wealthy couple, Lorimer turns to psychologist and friend Solly Brightman for his insights. As the killer comes to closer to Lorimer himself and his family, can he unmask the serial murderer before the next victim is found too close to home?
Alex Gray: author's other books
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Alex Gray
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Alex Gray
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Jonathan Kellerman
G. Lorimer Moseley
Lorimer Shenher
Shanawdithit
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George Horace Lorimer
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Table of Contents
ALSO BY ALEX GRAY
Never Somewhere Else
A Small Weeping
Shadows of Sounds
The Riverman
Pitch Black
Glasgow Kiss
A Small Weeping
Shadows of Sounds
The Riverman
Pitch Black
Glasgow Kiss
Five Ways to Kill a Man
ALEX GRAY
Hachette Digital
www.littlebrown.co.uk
Published by Hachette Digital 2010
Copyright Alex Gray 2010
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
A CIP catalogue record for this book
is available from the British Library.
eISBN : 978 0 7481 1519 8
This ebook produced by JOUVE, FRANCE
Hachette Digital
An imprint of
Little, Brown Book Group
100 Victoria Embankment
London EC4Y 0DY
An Hachette Livre UK Company
To Rene and Winnie,
remembering you both with love
remembering you both with love
Five Ways to Kill a Man
There are many cumbersome ways to kill a man:
you can make him carry a plank of wood
to the top of a hill and nail him to it. To do this
properly you require a crowd of people
wearing sandals, a cock that crows, a cloak
to dissect, a sponge, some vinegar and one
man to hammer the nails home.
you can make him carry a plank of wood
to the top of a hill and nail him to it. To do this
properly you require a crowd of people
wearing sandals, a cock that crows, a cloak
to dissect, a sponge, some vinegar and one
man to hammer the nails home.
Or you can take a length of steel
shaped and chased in a traditional way,
and attempt to pierce the metal cage he wears.
But for this you need white horses,
English trees, men with bows and arrows,
at least two flags, a prince and a
castle to hold your banquet in.
shaped and chased in a traditional way,
and attempt to pierce the metal cage he wears.
But for this you need white horses,
English trees, men with bows and arrows,
at least two flags, a prince and a
castle to hold your banquet in.
Dispensing with nobility, you may, if the wind
allows, blow gas at him. But then you need
a mile of mud sliced through with ditches,
not to mention black boots, bomb craters,
more mud, a plague of rats, a dozen songs
and some round hats made of steel.
allows, blow gas at him. But then you need
a mile of mud sliced through with ditches,
not to mention black boots, bomb craters,
more mud, a plague of rats, a dozen songs
and some round hats made of steel.
In an age of aeroplanes, you may fly
miles above your victim and dispose of him by
pressing one small switch. All you then
require is an ocean to separate you, two
systems of government, a nations scientists,
several factories, a psychopath and
land that no one needs for several years.
miles above your victim and dispose of him by
pressing one small switch. All you then
require is an ocean to separate you, two
systems of government, a nations scientists,
several factories, a psychopath and
land that no one needs for several years.
These are, as I began, cumbersome ways
to kill a man. Simpler, direct and much more neat
is to see that he is living somewhere in the middle
of the twentieth century, and leave him there.
to kill a man. Simpler, direct and much more neat
is to see that he is living somewhere in the middle
of the twentieth century, and leave him there.
Edwin Brock
CHAPTER 1
The First Way
M ary listened to the noise of something rattling in the lane outside. The wind had strengthened as the evening progressed and she really should have made tracks for bed by now, but there was still a chance that he would drop in. How she had enjoyed her day with them yesterday! Christmas with the family meant so much. Sarah had picked her up just before midday, taken her to that fancy restaurant where theyd pulled crackers and enjoyed the same meal as fifty other strangers sitting at adjacent tables.
It wasnt like the old days, Mary told herself. Then shed have had a turkey in the oven by seven oclock in the morning, all the trimmings prepared the day before, vegetables peeled ready in pots of cold water with just a wee dash of milk to keep the starch from leaching out. Her Christmas pudding would have been made months ago, like the rich fruit cake that she baked from a recipe that had been her mothers. No shop bought fare for her family, Mary thought indignantly. Oh no, it had all been the best of stuff.
Shed thanked them all nicely afterwards, though, aware of the size of the bill that Malcolm was having to pay, but in truth the thin slices of turkey meat swimming in tepid gravy had given her a bout of indigestion afterwards. It was either that or these undercooked sprouts. Frozen probably, she decided, for who would spend their Christmas morning in a hotel kitchen peeling masses of vegetables when they could open a catering pack?
Danny had slipped away just as the meal was finishing, a wee pat on her shoulder and a half-promise to come round to see her tomorrow. Well, Boxing Day was almost past and not a soul had appeared at Marys door. Not that she blamed the boy, of course. Her grandchildren were all nice kids, well brought up, but they led such different sorts of lives from the one she had known as a teenager.
Och, well, Mary said aloud. Hell be with his pals having fun. Who needs to see an old crone like me anyway? She smiled at that. There was no self-pity in her tone, even though the hours had hung heavily between bouts of watching TV. Danny was her favourite out of them all and hed come round and see her some time, just as he always did. His visits were all the more special for being unexpected and Mary was bound to be in to greet him since she never went out much these days, what with her bad hip and the arthritis that made walking so difficult.
When Mary heard the back door being knocked, a smile lit up her wizened features: it was him! Danny hadnt let her down after all, she thought. Shuffling through the hall, the old lady placed one hand on the papered walls for support, breathing hard at the effort. She switched on the kitchen light, an expression of delighted anticipation on her face at the shadow beyond the half-glazed door. The tea tray was still prepared for them; Dannys favourite biscuits on a plate beneath the embroidered cloth, two china cups and saucers all ready beside them. Mary smoothed down her skirt and patted her tightly permed white curls, just as if she were about to welcome a young suitor to her parlour.
Eager fingers turned the key and then the cold air rushed in, sweeping Marys skirt above her knees, making her tremble at the empty darkness. Where was he? The trees outside swayed in the gathering storm. Had she really seen his shadow there on her doorstep? Or was it a trick of the light?
Danny? Danny! Are you out there? Come in, lad, its too cold for me to leave the door open. Marys smile faded as she heard the branches of the old apple tree creak in the wind. Had she imagined the door being knocked? Had her heightened anticipation tricked her into imagining that familiar sound? Was it the wind?
Disappointed, Mary was about to shut the door once again when she heard it: a pitiful cry just out there in the garden, some small animal in distress. Was it a cat? Shed had cats for years, but after Tiggle had been put down Malcolm had persuaded her not to have another one. Its too much for you, Mother , hed scolded. But Mary still missed the companionable creature and on a night like this a furry body curled on her lap would have been very welcome. So, was it a stray cat, perhaps?
Peering into the darkness, Mary heard it again, a bit closer this time.
Puss? she queried. Here, pussy, she said, her words drawn away by a gust of wind. Venturing forwards, Mary took one step down, her fingers gripping the rail that the nice man from social services had put in for her, and called again. Puss, puss...
The figure seemed to come from nowhere, the hood concealing his face.
Danny? Mary stood still, wondering, doubting as he mounted the steps towards her.
But in that moment of hesitation she felt her fingers being prised from the railing, then the figure was suddenly behind her.
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