Black's Creek Read online

  ‘Thank you, Tommy, for everything,’ Theodore Maxwell said, extending his hand.

  I reached and shook it. His grip was iron, but despite that, something wasn’t right with Theodore Maxwell. All that coughing. He looked pale. Gaunt. Seeing him in the stark light, heavy coat buttoned to his neck, eyes expressionless, made me feel nothing but pity for the man, something I once would have thought impossible.

  ‘You haven’t told me not … not to tell anyone, of … of what you’re gonna do,’ I said. ‘Aren’t you afraid that I might say something to my dad?’

  For the first time since I met Theodore Maxwell, I saw a smile on his sad face.

  ‘You won’t. Goodbye, Tommy. Get home safe.’

  Later, when I was back, warm and secure in Horseshoe’s room, I thought of Theodore Maxwell, biding his time in that freezing old building. Waiting there patiently, alone with just his thoughts and demons. Horseshoe’s dad had been right: ‘Better to fuck with the devil, than with Theodore Maxwell. He neither forgives nor forgets …’

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Puzzle Solved. Sort Of.

  The more a man knows, the more he forgives.

  Catherine the Great

  If 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.

  Epilogue

  Painting is just another way of keeping a diary.

  Pablo Picasso

  ‘Here’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.

  DNA Evidence Reopens Murder Case

  Newly discovered DNA evidence proves that Norman Armstrong was not the killer of a young girl, Devlin Mantle, over twenty years ago, in the town of Black’s Creek in upstate New York. Norman Armstrong was the chief suspect in the brutal rape and murder of Devlin Mantle. Armstrong would eventually be gunned down at his home, by prison guard Theodore Maxwell, whose son, Joey, died tragically in Jackson’s Lake. Rumours at the time claimed Armstrong had sexually molested the young Maxwell boy.

  Police have arrested a sixty-eight-year-old local drifter, Bob McCoy, on suspicion of the Mantle murder, along with that of another child, Jordan Taylor. McCoy worked as a handyman of sorts at the now-discredited and closed Saint Peter’s on the Rock orphanage.

  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.

  About the Author

  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.

  Also by Sam Millar

  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]

  Copyright

  This eBook edition first published 2014 by

  Brandon

  An imprint of The O’Brien Press

  12 Terenure Road East, Rathgar,

  Dublin 6, Ireland.

  First published 2014.

  Tel: +353 1 4923333; Fax: +353 1 4922777

  E-mail: [email protected].

  Website: www.obrien.ie

  eBook ISBN: 978–1–84717–707–0


  Text © copyright Sam Millar 2014

  Copyright for typesetting, layout, editing, design

  © The O’Brien Press

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced or utilised in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or in any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  The O’Brien Press receives financial assistance from

  Other books by Sam Millar

  ‘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.

  Karl Kane

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

  Booklist

  Karl Kane is a private investigator with a dark past, his mother murdered when he was a child. Years later, Karl has a chance to avenge his mother’s murder, but allows the opportunity to slip through his hands. When two young girls are sexually molested and then brutally murdered, Karl holds himself responsible.

  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.

  In a wood at night, a young woman witnesses the murder of a whistleblower by a corrupt businessman, owner of an abattoir. Paul Goodman, a would-be snooker champion who works at the abattoir, has never known his father and believes that he deserted him when young. But he is befriended by the one man who holds the key to the mystery of his disappearance, the man responsible for his death.