A Mass Murderer - Coffin for the living (ADDITIONAL BOOK INCLUDED ) Read Free

awful shapeless clothes and hats that hid her face.
    But, and here the voice of Bates’s informant dropped so low that he had to crane across the bar to hear him, there were still some mighty strange rumors. Strangers getting off the train and visiting the Reverend’s place. Lights on in the house all night.
    “Did he mention any names? Any folks calling there that he might have known?” asked Klyne.
    Bates grinned. “Thought that might interest you. I can be useful, you see. Yeah, he named a name or two. Like the son of a senator and someone knew the undertaker from a town not far from here. Couple of twins that he said were kind of sinister, and some others.”
    And there had been rumors about the housekeeper. Whatever she might look like, there was talk that the inside didn’t match up to the outside.
    “Sounds like the Reverend is playing fast and loose with the ladies of the town,” commented Klyne.
    They reached a clump of trees on the right of the road, with narrow track winding to the house of the Reverend.
    “Isn’t he taking a risk living this far out of town? All on his own. What about burglars?” Bates asked.
    “Safe except from folks like us,” answered Klyne.
    The house loomed up through the trees, set firm and solid in the centre of an acre or two of cultivated ground. There were cows and some hogs, with chicken all over.
    There was a sign on the gate that said: ‘Positively No Admittance Without An Appointment. Dog Trained To Attack Trespassers.’
    “Right friendly bastard for a Reverend, isn’t he?” said Bates, clearing his throat and spitting a dark stream of tobacco juice at the notice.
    Klyne swung the iron gate open, nearly catching his hand on a strand of heavy-duty barbed wire wound round the top. Bates shut it behind them, swinging round at the noise of a snarling dog.
    Jaws gaping, it darted like a streak of lightening, paws scuffing up the dust, jumping for Klyne’s throat. Bates took a step back, hand reaching for his gun but he was too slow.
    Instead of trying to dodge or run from the brute, Klyne simply waited for it, ignoring its open mouth, and grabbed at its leading front feet. Quicker than Bates could follow, he jerked the dog’s legs apart, hard. There was a snapping noise, like a large log being split with an axe, and the dog gave an almost human cry of pain and shock.
    Blood jetted from its jaws as Klyne flung it casually from him. The legs moved spasmodically, as though it was trying to run, and then it was still.
    “God! My God, Roy. That was….I just didn’t see how you did that.” Cried Bates in disbelief.
    They waited a long time for the Reverend to turn up at his home but there was no sign of him. It being a Saturday the Reverend spent the whole day in church preparing for the Sunday Mass.
    It was getting dark, the thunder crumbling the still air about them, and an occasional flash of lightening rending the day apart.
    “There’s no point in our staying here for the Reverend, let’s go to the church and pay him a visit.” Klyne suggested.
    “Us going to church? I haven’t been to a church since I got married to Backy. All this makes me feel like I’m knocking right on heaven’s doors.” Bates declared.
    “I hope they let you in,” said Klyne, turning the heavy handle and walking into the church.
    Inside it was cool, with that odd, damp darkness that so many churches have. The light had faded so fast with the impending storm, but there was enough roll of thunder to drown any kind of noise to the outside world.
    “Reverend Smith?” called Klyne, finding that he instinctively raised his voice in the din of the roll of thunder. A rumbling from outside drowned any sound of movement, but they both saw a figure edge from behind the small harmonium near the window.
    “Yes? What can I do for you? I was not expecting anyone, so unless it’s important, then I’d be most grateful if you could call back sometime later.”
    The two men walked forward through