Black's Creek (22 page)

I
f Theodore Maxwell's life had been measured by the number of people attending his funeral, the measuring tape would have stretched for miles. His death attracted the largest crowd of mourners our town had ever seen. Even Dad attended, accompanied by Deputy Hillman. After the funeral, Dad brought me home in the car. Neither of us said a word. It wasn't until we stopped, outside the house, that Dad eventually spoke.

‘Deputy Hillman finally figured out the last piece of the puzzle, concerning how my flashlight was found at Johnson's Timber Store.'

‘Oh?'

‘The way Deputy Hillman figures, it was the night Theodore Maxwell came to see me in the hub. He was left there alone, before I came up to talk to him. He must have seen the flashlight over in the corner, and decided to take it.'

‘Why would he do that?'

Dad looked straight into my eyes.

‘I don't know
why
he'd do it, and I no longer care. All I know is that the case is officially closed. Clear?'

I nodded. ‘Yes. Very clear.'

‘Good. Now get out. I've something I want to show you in the trunk.'

We both got out of the car, and walked to the trunk. Dad opened it, and removed a package wrapped in brown paper.

‘Here. Mom has reluctantly agreed to let you keep it, but not up on the wall. Put it away until you get older, or get married and have your own house.'

I quickly tore the brown paper away. My heart did a little flip-flop of excitement. It was Devlin's drawing of me.

‘I thought you'd like to have it back. I'm sure Devlin would have wanted you to keep it,' Dad said, smiling.

I was overcome with emotion. I felt like crying, but forced a smile instead. ‘Thanks … thanks Dad. This … this means …' I couldn't finish the sentence.

‘You don't have to explain, Son. I know what it means to you. Just keep it out of sight from Mom. She's still not one hundred percent convinced that we should have a drawing
of a mysterious naked man in the house.' He grinned. Ruffled my hair. ‘Come on. Let's go in.'

I watched Dad walking up the porch, a slight swagger to his gait, and suddenly realised for the first time in my life, that I, not Horseshoe, was the lucky one. He would never have a dad like mine.

‘H
ere's some fresh coffee, Tom. That cup you have is cold by now.'

Belinda's caring voice brings me back from the old home movies playing in my head. I hadn't even heard her coming out into the garden. She hands me the fresh cup of coffee, and sits down beside me.

‘Thank you.' I sip. The coffee is lovely. I finish reading the last part of the newspaper article.

The story continues with the confession of McCoy in prison, wanting to clear his conscience of all the murders he was involved in: Devlin, Jordan and three other young people.

Armstrong was not the killer of Devlin or Jordan
. I thought about all of the implications of this for a few minutes, and then about Joey. Wasn't Armstrong responsible – even if indirectly – for Joey's horrific death? What about the terrible things he did to Brent and Devlin, and all the other lives he messed up because of his perverted and sick nature? Was Theodore Maxwell wrong in what he did? Was I wrong in what I had intended to do?

Perhaps if I had studied Devlin's paintings more carefully, I would have noticed the clues. As I gazed at the picture in the newspaper, I realised that I knew that man's face, from the painting she had titled ‘Guilt of Man'. The boar, that ugly animal, its bestial face transforming into the brutal Bob McCoy.

The paintings were Devlin's diary, right there under my nose, to be read by me or anyone else with claims of loving her. She was trying to tell us things, terrible things, but not one of us listened.

‘Tom? Tell me what's wrong. I know you, and I know something's wrong.'

‘I'm fine,' I say, knowing now that I'll never be fine, ever again. I sip the coffee, but I no longer feel like drinking it. It tastes strangely bitter.

Sam Millar is a bestselling crime writer and playwright from Belfast. He has won numerous literary awards and his books have all been critically praised.

Novels:

Dark Souls

The Redemption Factory:
finalist
, Grand Prix De Littérature Policière

Darkness of Bones:
finalist
, Le Prix du Meilleur Polar

Bloodstorm
: A Karl Kane Novel

The Dark Place
: A Karl Kane Novel

Dead of Winter
: A Karl Kane Novel

Memoir

On the Brinks

Stage:

Brothers In Arms

Radio:

Rain,
performed by the BBC

Anthologies:

Requiems for the Departed,
a Karl Kane story, Winner of
Spinetingler
magazine award for Best Anthology, USA

Breaking the Skin: 21st Century Irish Writing – Volume 1: Short Stories

Emerald Eye: The Best Irish Imaginative Fiction

Belfast Noir,
a Karl Kane story, USA

Awards:

Aisling Award for Art and Culture

Martin Healy Short Story Award

Brian Moore Award for Short Stories

Cork Literary Review Writer's Competition

Golden
Balais d'or,
France, for Best Crime Book

Le Monde's
Top Twenty Thrillers 2013 for
On The Brinks

Website:
www.millarcrime.com

Email:
[email protected]

‘Mesmerizing and fascinating,
On The Brinks
is one of the most revealing and powerful memoirs you will ever read.'

New York Journal of Books

In 1993, $7.4 million was stolen from the Brink's Armored Car Depot in Rochester, New York, the fifth-largest robbery in US history. Sam Millar was a member of the gang who carried out the robbery. He was caught, found guilty and incarcerated, before being set free by Bill Clinton's government as an essential part of the Northern Ireland Peace Process.

This remarkable book is Sam's story, from his childhood in Belfast, membership of the IRA, time spent in Long Kesh internment camps and the Brinks heist and aftermath. Unputdownable.

‘Crime noir doesn't get much darker or grittier'

Booklist
                                

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Young homeless women and drug addicts are being abducted before being brutally mutilated and murdered, and a city is held in the grip of unspeakable terror. By abducting Katie, the young daughter of private investigator Karl Kane, the killer has just made his first mistake, which could well turn out to be his last.

Private Investigator Karl Kane returns to the streets of Belfast, investigating the discovery of a severed hand. He's convinced a serial killer is on the loose, and that he may be the next victim …

A tense tale of murder, betrayal, sexual abuse and revenge, and the corruption at the heart of the respectable establishment.

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