Online Read Free Novel
  • Home
  • Romance & Love
  • Fantasy
  • Science Fiction
  • Mystery & Detective
  • Thrillers & Crime
  • Actions & Adventure
  • History & Fiction
  • Horror
  • Western
  • Humor

    The Janeites

    Page 20
    Prev Next


      “Sure; insanity’s what they all plead; something came over me donchaknow. No more insane than you are.” The three looked at each other. Barking bonkers the lot of us. “Thing is, it’s perfectly true, pretty well anybody will do something insane at a given moment, press the sore point hard enough and fellow isn’t reasoning clearly. Likely enough, this was the moment, incapable of calculation, pick up the breadknife you’ve a homicide. This little fellow had been practising his vengeance a long time, sure, tasting it and loving it; seeing the gun there he takes leave of his senses. Afterwards, no no, it wasn’t him; was the Third Man. Bit late perhaps for the victim. William, old son, just as well, huh, having that boy there, bit dozy but didn’t quite drop all his marbles. All right, mustn’t stand here gossiping, thanks for the drink, I better get to work, lot of forms to fill in.”

      Outside, they were towing away Doctor Valdez’ good new car. Raymond helped himself to another socking glassful of apple pie.

      “I fell asleep on the plane,” he told them. “Girl gives you a pillow but it’s probable my head was in a bad position. There’s a lot we don’t understand about nightmare; it’s interesting that it’s called Alptraum in German.

      “I was driving at night. Maybe I was on an English road, over on the wrong side, because bang, there are headlights blazing right in my face, there was nothing I could do but think This is It. The other driver swerved at the last possible second, I remember hearing him scrape along the bodywork and I still couldn’t react – there was another set of lights bearing down on me. I woke, then.

      “It was like there in the car; I was in a lather, I rang the bell, sent the girl for a big drink. I’m saying that if it was premonition how do I get it there, in the middle of the ocean?”

      The others were saying nothing, looking at him. I’m getting drunk, thought Raymond.

      There had been papers lying about: he had picked one up, to obliterate the nasty moment. There was a picture of a piece of sculpture, a big one, monumental. Interview with the artist. Basque, interesting man, said something striking. He wanted to tell the others but his throat was stuck.

      ‘Wouldn’t art be the consequence of a necessity to try to do something we don’t know how to do?’ Indeed; a beautiful, a delicate necessity…

      It’s this apple-pie. He was a student again, arguing with the others; pavement café in Poland. A million years ago, a million miles away. Magali put that record on again. They all played it, all the time; it had become an obsession, there in the heat, the dust.

      Not Poland at all. Africa; these hundreds and thousands of black people all looking for help, and we had so little help to give. Magali, the nurse who worked with him; he can see her, a fall of dark hair held in an elastic band. He has cut all his own off; sand gets in it. Magali has a gramophone in the tent.

      They all like to sing it, overworked and overtired as they all were. Bass drum, jarring like the springs of the jeep on the iron-hard piste, jouncing them. A prowling rhythm, easy to sing. Magali would begin, and he would join in.

      ‘You’ll never know how much I love you.

      Never know how much I care…’

      He was singing it now; didn’t care how drunk he was.

      Bang went that deep drum. Magali screamed out ‘Fever!’ That was what it was all about. That was the obsession. ‘You get the fever that’s so hard to bear…’ He ought to teach it to these two, who are laughing at him because he’s drunk.

      Bang went Magali’s fist on the table, in time with the drummer. He used to dance with her – a thin, bony thing. Good nurse, though.

      He would make these two sing, and dance, along with him.

      ‘Everybody gets the fever.’

      Grandfontaine, Christmas 2000

      EuroCrime from Arcadia Books

      Nicolas Freeling

      Because of the Cats

      ‘One of my favourites’ – P.D. James

      The Janeites

      ‘A great European novelist’ – Francis Wheen

      Some Day Tomorrow

      ‘Should have won every literary prize going’ – Literary Review

      The Village Book

      ‘Marvellous’ – Anita Brookner, Spectator

      Eugenio Fuentes

      The Depths of the Forest

      ‘Falling in love with a dead woman has never seemed so possible – or so strange’ – Stella Duffy

      Jean-Claude Izzo

      One Helluva Mess

      ‘A pacy and sharp roman policier’ – Boyd Tonkin, Independent

      Dominique Manotti

      Rough Trade

      ‘Extraordinarily vivid’ – Joan Smith, Independent

      Kjersti Scheen

      Final Curtain

      ‘Riveting’ – Svenska Dagbladet

      Gunnar Staalesen

      The Writing on the Wall

      ‘Murder, violence and lots of sex’ – Birmingham Post

      Richard Zimler

      The Last Kabbalist of Lisbon

      ‘An American Umberto Eco’ – Francis King, Spectator

      About the Author

      Nicolas Freeling is the author of 37 highly acclaimed crime novels and, most recently, The Village Book: Memoirs, Some Day Tomorrow and Because of the Cats, all published by Arcadia. He is the winner of the Golden Dagger Award from the Crime Writers’ Association, the Grand Prix de Roman Policier and the Edgar Allan Poe Award of the Mystery Writers of America. He lives in Grandfontaine, France.

      Also by Nicolas Freeling

      Love in Amsterdam

      Because of the Cats

      Gun Before Butter

      Valparaiso

      Double Barrel

      Criminal Conversation

      The King of the Rainy Country

      The Dresden Green

      Strike Out Where Not Applicable

      This is the Castle

      Tsing-Boum

      Over the High Side

      A Long Silence

      Dressing of Diamond

      What are the Bugles Blowing For?

      Lake Isle

      Gadget

      The Night Lords

      The Widow

      Castang’s City

      One Damn Thing after Another

      Wolfnight

      The Back of the North Wind

      No Part in Your Death

      A City Solitary

      Cold Iron

      Lady MacBeth

      Not as Far as Velma

      Sandcastles

      Those in Peril

      The Pretty How Town

      The Seacoast of Bohemia

      You Who Know

      A Dwarf Kingdom

      One More River

      Some Day Tomorrow

      Non-Fiction

      The Kitchen Book

      Cookbook

      Criminal Convictions

      The Village Book

      Copyright

      Arcadia Books Ltd

      139 Highlever Road

      London W10 6PH

      www.arcadiabooks.co.uk

      First published by Arcadia Books 2002

      Copyright © Nicolas Freeling 2002

      Nicolas Freeling has asserted his moral right to be identified as the author of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

      All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the written permission of the publishers.

      A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

      ISBN 978–1–909807–48–8

      This ebook edition published by Arcadia Books 2013

      Arcadia Books supports English PEN www.englishpen.org and The Book Trade

      Charity http://booktradecharity.wordpress.com

      Arcadia Books distributors are as follows:

      in the UK and elsewhere in Europe:

      Macmillan Distribution Ltd

      Brunel Road

      Houndmills

      Basingstoke

      Hants RG21 6XS

      in the USA and Canada:

      Dufour Ed
    itions

      PO Box 7

      Chester Springs

      PA 19425

      in Australia/New Zealand:

      NewSouth Books

      University of New South Wales

      Sydney NSW 2052

      in South Africa:

      Jacana Media (Pty) Ltd

      PO Box 291784

      Melville 2109

      Johannesburg

     

     

     



    Prev Next
Online Read Free Novel Copyright 2016 - 2026