Free No Reason To Die by Hilary Bonner

could see it in his eyes.’
    ‘Kelly, haven’t you heard of alcoholic paranoia? You of all people.’
    ‘Yes. Even suffered from it myself, Karen, just as you appear to be so kindly suggesting. Of course I know about alcoholic paranoia. But that wasn’t it. I’m sure of it.’
    ‘Really. You a psychiatrist now as well as a potential Booker prize-winner, are you?’
    Karen didn’t know quite why she was being so hard on him, but she didn’t seem able to help herself. Perhaps it was because of what she had said to him as soon as he had phoned her that morning. Kelly always brought trouble. She watched him wince as she delivered her latest broadside, then shrug his shoulders. He didn’t rise to the bait at all, and instead answered her in a level tone.
    ‘Look, I can’t explain it, Karen, but I really did think the lad was one hundred per cent genuine and, OK, I know I can’t explain this either, but for some reason neither did I think he was suffering from alcoholic paranoia, or any other kind of paranoia, come to that.’
    Karen finished the final mouthful of her meal before responding. She was an organised eater and had arranged her meal into little food parcels, a piece of sausage, some cheesy potato and a sprinkling of salad in each, which she had devoured quite systematically in spite of her haste.
    ‘Look, Kelly, you saw the scene of the accident. You must have got some idea of what happened. There was one vehicle involved, a lorry being driven by a professional along a winding moorland road on a dark, rain-swept night, a pretty unsuitable road for a big artic’, even under the best of conditions, and one pedestrian who was out of his brains. Now, if that doesn’t add up to a straightforward, highly predictable scenario, I don’t know what does.’
    ‘Well, maybe, but you didn’t hear the lad talking …’
    ‘Let me tell you. Your squaddie, whose full name was Alan Connelly, by the way, and who shouldn’teven have been getting boozed up in The Wild Dog as he was only seventeen, just lurched out across the road in front of this extremely large articulated lorry. That’s what the driver said, and all the evidence, like tyre marks, etc, point to him having told the truth. There is absolutely no evidence to indicate any kind of foul play, and neither does there seem to have been any way the accident could have been the driver’s fault, not in that weather. The lad was out of his skull and the injuries that he received, according to the pathologist’s report, back up the driver’s claim that he seemed to virtually throw himself into the road. None the less, the poor bastard driver is totally traumatised and is still in hospital with shock. That’s about the sum of it, one of life’s minor tragedies. Nobody, but you, Kelly, has even suggested there could be anything more to it than that. So what are you really getting at?’
    Kelly shrugged again. ‘I don’t know, Karen. Of course I don’t know. But I do know this Alan Connelly was frightened silly and when I saw the pathetic little sod in a heap in that road, all I could think of was that he’d predicted his own death. And he’d been proven quite bloody right. There are some unanswered questions, Karen, you have to agree to that. What about those two men who turned up looking for him, for a start? And who were they? I asked them if they were from Hangridge, and come to think of it, they didn’t answer, but I felt sure they were soldiers. They had that look. And I just assumed they were mates of his. At first, anyway. But where were they when the boy was killed? They weren’t seen at the scene at all, and they haven’t come forward since, have they?’
    Karen finished her final food parcel, chewing appreciatively, and drained the last of her pint of Diet Coke.
    ‘Maybe they were drunk too, Kelly, and they and your tragic young friend just all went their separate ways outside the pub. Simple as that.’
    Kelly shook his head. ‘No. They