Free Requiem Mass by Elizabeth Corley

probing nose.
    ‘I’ll bet it’s no problem for you to pop over here,’ he said out loud to himself as he walked back to the kitchen. ‘I’ll bet you do it all the time, poking your nose around, just to make sureeverything’s all right, of course. Know where the spare key is too, I expect!’
    Her knock at the door had decided him. He couldn’t risk an intrusion, couldn’t rely on the occupant of the back bedroom going unnoticed for any length of time. He would have to act now. A strange, alien emotion moved through him, disturbing him deeply. He searched his mind in vain to try to identify what it was, like an amnesiac hunting the vital clue to bring recall, but recognition remained out of reach.
    The feeling remained with him as he made his preparations. It was only at the last moment, as he found himself pulling on the unnecessary anonymity of his black mask, that he realised what it was. It was sadness; knowing he had to kill her had made him sad. It was unbelievable after all these years that he could experience such an emotion. Mild regret, anger, hate, relief – he had felt all these as he had prepared to kill in the past, but never sadness. The feeling stayed with him as he made his way to the small back room.

PART TWO
    LIBER SCRIPTUS
Liber scriptus proferetur,
in quo totum continetur,
unde mundus judicetur.
Open lies the book before them,
Where all records have been written,
When creation comes to trial.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    ‘It’s good to see you back, Andrew. Take a seat.’ The Assistant Chief Constable radiated a kindness and concern that his visitor would happily have done without.
    ‘Thank you, sir.’
    ‘How are the children?’
    ‘They’re well, thank you.’
    ‘Good, good.’
    There was a pause in which Detective Chief Inspector Andrew Fenwick could see the ACC worrying over whether he should probe further into his family life and personal circumstances. It would be inappropriate – the two men had never got on, particularly since the ACC had quietly failed to back Fenwick’s last bid for promotion. Fenwick wasn’t supposed to know why he hadn’t been put forward, but he did. These things had a way of becoming known within the force.
    ‘Now that you’re back, we need to make sure that you’re busy – but not too busy, eh?’
    ‘There is no reason why I shouldn’t resume my full workload, sir.’
    ‘No, no, of course not, but I don’t want to see you overdoing it. You’ve additional responsibilities now at home, after all, and we need to be sensitive to that.’
    ‘I can assure you that my home life is in good hands. My mother is living with us now and has everything under control.’
    The ACC looked surprised but was too skilled to show disappointment.
    ‘I’ve assembled a number of interesting files for you. Some of them are cases that have gone a little cold but I doubt that will be a problem for you. I want to continue your attachment to HQ. The Division’s doing fine without you and we have more than enough here to keep you busy.’
    A desk job , thought Fenwick. ‘I’d really rather be back at Division, sir. I’ve missed it.’
    ‘You’re needed here, Detective Chief Inspector, and they have their full complement.’
    ‘But I’ve been reading about this spate of car thefts around Harlden and the Weald. They’ve been going on for a long time; it’s obviously well organised. I could give it a good go.’
    ‘Inspector Blite already has that well in hand, Fenwick, and I need you here.’
    Inspector Blite. That explained it all. The weasel’s promotion had come through at last, just when Fenwick had been hoping there was some justice in the world after all. He should have known better.
    Back in his cramped temporary office, Fenwick started to sort the files he had been given. Some were even dusty. In the middle there were two red-foldered complaints. Both had been logged but neither was deemed serious enough to involve a Police Complaints Authority follow-up. That was