Shadow Over Edmund Street by Suzanne Frankham (best e reader for android .txt) 📗

after they had eaten. Alex had gone for the leek and potato pie, she for the roasted vegetable focaccia. He was glad she had waited until they’d finished. He’d known the question would come.

‘I find all of this very hard to believe,’ she added. Her face had a touch of colour after the food and coffee.

Alex hesitated. Picked up his coffee, sipped, put his cup back on the saucer.

‘Or can’t you say anything?’ she continued. ‘On-going investigation?’

‘Yes.’ He chose his words carefully. ‘Edwina seemed to have lived a very ordered life. Routine, simple. The fact she could have met someone, knew someone, who could have done this, seems improbable. We haven’t found how anyone sinister could have come into her life. I’m saying this to you because her life seems to have been divided into her old life, before she won the raffle, and her life afterwards. We have to think something happened in her new life which led

to this.’

‘Like meeting me, you mean?’

‘You’re not a suspect, but the pathway to the job—the gym, the “back-to-work” course, selling the house, buying another, learning to drive, buying a car, all these things were new experiences. She was meeting different people. Dealing with them for the first time. Thinking along these lines is there anything we might have missed?’

‘She accomplished a lot, didn’t she? Considering where she started.’

‘Yes, she did. I applaud her for it. But was there anything else?’

‘I’ll think about it. I don’t think so. Hang on, did you have the computer class in there?’

‘Computer class?’

‘Yes. At the community centre. She was having so much trouble doing the computer stuff in the “back-to-work” course she was going to pull out at one stage, so I suggested she join the computer class as well. I think she did.’

‘Rose,’ he said, beaming. ‘Thank you. Thank you and thank you!’

* Alex waited for the bus with Rose. Felt like a kid again. She hopped on the twelve-forty which would drop her within a few minutes’ walk of the university, in plenty of time for her afternoon lab. He took out his phone and called Jerry. ‘Are you free for an hour? Good. Yes, good. This won’t take long. I want you to go and see a Ms Marsden. A special interview. You wouldn’t happen to be wearing your big boots today, would you?’

He felt much better when he finished on the phone. Grinned. If ever someone deserved an encounter with Jerry doing his brutish act it was Ms Marsden. If she didn’t think to mention Edwina was doing a computer course at the same time as the “back-to-work” course then she deserved a dose of Jerry in fine form.

DAY 5

Edwina’s funeral was held at 10.00 am at St Joseph’s. Alex had to admit they did her proud. He found himself cocooned by the familiar and the comfortable. It made him wish he could believe in God. The prayers, the quiet dignity of the service. The love and support enveloping the mourners. He caught a glimpse of Rose, a slight figure in black, slipping away straight after the service, and found himself regretting he wouldn’t have a chance to talk

to her.

He and Marion went back to the house. The piles of clothes had been moved into a bedroom, the lounge decorated with bowls of lilies on the table and sideboard. A mountain of food organised by Juliana included sandwiches, cakes, cheeses and fruit platters. Coffee, tea, whiskey and wine available. Tears from a few of the women. Kind words about Edwina, but nothing useful for them. As hard as he and Marion tried, as many people as they talked to, there was not one tiny little thing to help them move forward. Every person in Edwina’s life had to be investigated. The list was long and growing.

More uniforms were drafted. Casual contacts, that’s what they were trying to pin down. One of them with a deadly outcome. Five days into the investigation and that was the best they could do.

DAY 6

The call came through first thing Friday morning.

‘Alex Cameron?’

‘Speaking.’ He didn’t recognise the voice.

‘Hi, I’m Dr Jane Henman. I’m calling from the museum.

Dr Carruthers sent over some textile samples for me to examine.’

Alex sat upright in his chair. ‘Yes, the fabric strands which were … yes, the fabric strands. Have you had a chance to analyse them?’

‘I have. There were ten strands and seven different colours of wool. What I would call purple, lavender, aqua, mid-blue, yellow, pink and red.’

‘Seven colours? Seven colours of wool?’ Alex was having trouble digesting the information.

‘Yes.’ She waited a few moments. ‘The wool is in between what you would call a light weight and a medium weight.’

‘I’m not sure I’m getting this. Could you perhaps put it into context for me? I’m a bit slow on this one.’

‘No problem. Dr Carruthers told me where the samples came from,’ she hesitated for a moment, ‘so I would say your best bet would be from a multi-coloured wool scarf. Most likely for a female.’ When Alex didn’t respond, she continued. ‘Wool scarves for men tend to be one colour and a heavier weight, you see.’

Alex did see. A vision in front of him. A scarf, bright with swirling patterns, light, catching in the wind. A thing of beauty to set off a dark suit.

‘I’m with you now, Dr Henman. Thank you. Thank you very much. I’ll send someone over to pick up the slides. We’ll need them at some stage.’

‘Sure, no problem. I’ll email the report tomorrow.’

Alex stared out of the small grubby window in his office at the wall of the building across the road, seeing the scarf. A bright woollen scarf concealing a piece of wire. How was that possible? Did Edwina wear scarves? He picked up the phone, called Edwina’s home number.

‘Hello?’ It was Rowena.

‘Ah, Rowena,’ he said. ‘Detective Cameron. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you not to throw out any of Edwina’s clothes until we have a sift through them.’

‘What?