Death Angels Read Free Page A

here.”
    “Show him in, dammit.” The man’s voice echoed through the hallway, his words both aggressive and jumbled.
    He’s got a mouthful of eggs, Macdonald thought. Or bacon.
    The kitchen reminded him of the café. The fumes from the frying pan burned his eyes.
    Anderton was ruddy and stockily built.
    He likes his cholesterol, Macdonald thought. I hope he doesn’t croak while I’m here.
    “Perhaps the constable would like a little something.” Anderton waved at his wife and the stove at the same time. Apparently Macdonald could take his pick.
    “No, thanks,” Macdonald said. “I already ate.”
    “It’s fried with curry,” Anderton said.
    “Very tempting, but I’ll pass.”
    “Then what do you want?” he asked, as though Macdonald could use some fattening up. “Not even a hamburger?” His smile revealed a set of yellow teeth. “A Big Mac, maybe?”
    “Tea would be great.”
    “We’re out of milk,” the woman said.
    “That’s fine.”
    “No sugar either.” Her eyes were on Anderton.
    I wonder if they’re married, Macdonald thought.
    Anderton inspected him in silence.
    I could always ask for a little herring just to be polite, Macdonald thought.
    “Here you go.” The woman put Macdonald’s cup down in front of him.
    He picked it up and took a few sips. It was just strong enough and not too hot.
    “I found some sugar after all,” she said.
    “What an honor to have a policeman in my very own home,” Anderton said. “I didn’t know they made house calls. I thought they took you down to the Yard in the middle of the night, even if it was just a case of a missing hamster.”
    Macdonald observed him. The poor guy is just as uptight as everyone else, he thought. Chatter is the daughter of nervousness. Maybe he eats these grotesque servings just to unwind. “We appreciate your getting in touch with us, Mr. Anderton,” he said, taking a pen and notepad out of the right pocket of his jacket. He had hung his coat in the hallway.
    “I was just doing my civic duty.” Anderton stretched out his arms as if auditioning to be a statue on the Common.
    “Not everyone is so conscientious.”
    “Not that I have a lot of information to give you.”
    “You saw a man. Is that correct, Mr. Anderton?”
    “Call me John.”
    “Okay, John, you told us that you had seen a man talking to a younger guy.”
    “The sun was setting and I had been down at the Windmill Pub, and after we had a couple of beers, somebody said that the night—”
    “I’m most interested in what happened at Mount Pond.”
    “Like I was saying, it was getting dark. I left the pub by myself and turned off Windmill Drive toward the pond.”
    “What for?”
    “Huh?”
    “Why didn’t you walk straight ahead across the avenue?”
    “What difference does it make?”
    The woman was finished straightening up and stood by the stove with a towel in her hand. She looked out at the street with her back turned to them.
    “If it’s so damn important, I had to take a piss,” Anderton said. “There’s some thick bushes between the pond and bandstand that come in handy if you have to answer the call of nature on your way home from the pub.”
    “So you were by the pond.”
    “I was pretty close to the pond, and when I was through, I saw this character come by with his arm around a young guy.”
    “Were they touching?”
    “The character had his arm around him, that’s right.”
    “Why do you call him a character?”
    “Because he looked like one.”
    “What do characters look like?”
    “To be honest, more or less like you.” Anderton grinned.
    “Like me?”
    “Ruffled hair, leather jacket, tall and athletic with dark wrinkles in his face that could scare the shit out of anyone.”
    “Just like me, in other words.”
    “Right.”
    What a find, Macdonald thought. He’s about to drown in grease, but he’s got a sharp pair of eyes in his head. “So you were standing there looking at them?” he asked.
    “Right.”
    “Tell