Dark Circus – DMmarz

“Excuse me for insisting, but a good detective doesn’t give up so easily.” “My boy, I’m very sorry to tell you we have nothing more to discuss.” He picked up a bell from a little table by his rocker and shook it. He was obviously annoyed.

“I disagree. I have something I think will interest you.” Elías held out his phone with the photo he’d snapped before leaving the bishop’s file room. The gatekeeper came in with a fierce frown. “You must not upset His Excellency the Bishop. He is extremely old—” The bishop studied the image and raised a hand. “Wait,” he commanded. “I’ll call you in a moment.” She gave Elías an angry look and left again. This time, she left the door propped open.

The bishop gestured at the photo. “This proves nothing.” “It establishes that your predecessor gave instructions for the return of the cross to the City of Caravaca very shortly before he died. Then, when you took charge, his order was filed away and never carried out.” “I was not aware of any such directive. There are always some things left pending when there’s a change of command. Files are misplaced.

You know that’s nothing out of the ordinary.” The old man looked away, reflecting. “I suppose it’s possible someone might have hidden it from me to keep the directive from being carried out.” “Do you know what I think? If that was the case, that person would simply have destroyed it.

But suppose a new bishop took up his duties and countermanded the directive, over the objections of the diocesan administrator. Maybe that administrator would have hidden the original order in hopes that someday someone would find it and see to the restitution of the cross.” “That’s a load of nonsense.” “Be careful what you say. My uncle knows all about this,” Elías lied.

“And he’s waiting to hear your version of events before he decides what to do.”

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Text copyright © 2016 by Ana Ballabriga and David Zaplana Translation copyright © 2018 by Michael Meigs All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Previously published as Ningún escocés verdadero via the Kindle Direct Publishing Platform in Spain in 2016. Translated from Spanish by Michael Meigs. First published in English by AmazonCrossing in 2018. Published by AmazonCrossing, Seattle www.apub.com Amazon, the Amazon logo, and AmazonCrossing are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates. ISBN-13: 9781503951792 ISBN-10: 1503951790 Cover design by PEPE nymi OceanofPDF.com For my father: the first of our novels he won’t be able to read OceanofPDF.com CONTENTS START READING 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 AFTERWORD ACKNOWLEDGMENTS ABOUT THE AUTHORS ABOUT THE TRANSLATOR OceanofPDF.com Man, in his pride, created God in his image and likeness.

—Friedrich Nietzsche I trust those who seek the truth but distrust those who claim to have found it. —André Gide OceanofPDF.com 1 She urged her horse across the hospital parking lot in the predawn light. She dismounted, her bare feet landing in something sticky, probably vomit, but she strode forward without a glance. The thin nightgown clung to her lushly rounded body. At the community meeting the previous day, everyone she loved had turned their backs on her.

She hadn’t slept a wink that night. Tired at last of thrashing about in the sheets, she’d made a decision. She pushed open the main door and marched to the reception desk. The place stank of urine. People turned to stare. They whispered to one another, tittering at the sight of her—at least, those who could did.

One old man with a vacant gaze simply drooled. A young woman came limping out of the restroom. A man in a green robe was pushing a wheelchair in which there was a young boy covered in blood. “Your health card,” came a voice from behind the desk. She turned to look and saw only her own reflection in the safety glass. Her black hair was matted and wild, making her look as mad as she felt.

“I need your card.” “What?”

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

Book Information

• Unique ID: e1ea686c1a8a6177
• File Extension: .pdf
• File Size: 4,515,959 bytes (4.307 MB)
• Title: –
• Author: Unknown
• ISBN: 9781503951792, 1503951790
• Pages: 305
• Language: English (en)

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• Estimated Reading Time: 491.5 minutes
• Total Words: 98,300
• Total Characters: 549,952
• Average Words per Page: 322.3
• Average Characters per Page: 1803.12

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