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

‘I’ll talk to D.C. Long. With luck, she should be able to be there tomorrow. Thanks for your cooperation in this.’

‘What? But why?’

‘D.C. Long will explain when she sees you.’

Alex imagined the piles of Edwina’s precious possessions, no doubt back in the living room now the funeral was over. Edwina’s living room sullied in such indecent haste by an uncaring daughter. He smiled. They didn’t need to go through Edwina’s wardrobe searching for scarfs, but what the hell. He’d enjoyed making the phone call, hoped Marion would make a mess searching through the clothes. The piles of clothes. A flash of memory. Juliana Fabbiano standing talking to him on Monday morning, her hand playing with a multi-coloured scarf draped around her throat. Shit, he thought. Juliana Fabbiano.

He picked up the phone, called Jerry. ‘Find out if Edwina wore a scarf to work.’

‘Ah,’ said Jerry. ‘Will do.’

* ‘Yes, I gave her a scarf,’ said Juliana. ‘It was a present. The first time I saw her dressed for her new job. Navy trousers, navy jumper. I’m not fond of dark colours.’

Alex could only agree. She was wearing purple. A purple skirt, ankle length and floaty and a deep-purple paisley top. Her black hair was drawn back in a loose bun and her lips were a bright crimson. A different person to the one Alex had seen a few days ago. She had left her father serving in the shop when Alex had arrived and led the way into the back room. The stack of bananas gone, replaced by boxes of kiwifruit and feijoas.

Juliana continued to look at him. ‘It was a paisley design in shades of purple, I think, with a few reds and yellows. Purple is my favourite colour. A pashmina. Why?’ she demanded. ‘Why do you want to know?’

Alex saw the colour drain out of her face. Thought how hopeless he was at times like this. Wished he had Marion with him. ‘Loose ends,’ was all he could think of. ‘We just need to know.’

She nodded, happy, even if she sensed it was rubbish. ‘I was surprised she wore it so much. She liked it. I thought she wouldn’t, being so brightly coloured, but then, maybe she wore it because I gave it to her. She didn’t get many gifts you see.’

* His phone rang. ‘Alex?’ It was Marion. Her voice friendlier. She had forgiven him.

‘Got some good news for me, Mar?’

‘I don’t know about good news but I have been talking to Carol Andrews again. The driving instructor. She found the journal with Edwina’s routes and you were right. They went to Pierce’s Park twice.’

‘Yes!’

She’s trying to document the exact route, but I think Edwina could have driven there herself. What do you think?’

‘I think you’re a wonder, that’s what I think.’

‘No, this was your one. I’ll see you in about an hour. We’ll have a look at the map then. Fancy some sushi?’

* The three of them pored over the map. Alex had cleared the empty coffee cups off the desk. Put them on the chair. Saw Marion’s face pucker up, but she didn’t say anything.

It was easy to see. Edwina would have followed her normal route home from work for about two thirds of the way, then turned onto the road she and Carol had used to drive to the park. Circuitous, yes, unnecessary, yes, but it would work and late at night it would only add a few minutes to the trip.

‘I’ll drive it tonight.’ Jerry was tracing the route with his finger. ‘Easy. It’s safe to assume she was at the park by ten-to or five-to one, and, come on, Marion, you’ve got to admit she had to be meeting someone. I was right all along. A man. Are we going to set up a van there? It could be a place couples go. I don’t know. Could be worth a van. What do you think?’

‘Not a van, we don’t want to scare people off, but yes we’ll be there for sure. We’ll be along the whole goddamn route.’

‘It might not be a man, Jerry,’ Marion said. ‘We’ve got nothing to suggest it was.’

‘Do women strangle, Mar?’

‘Not as much, but they do.’

‘Yes, they do,’ Alex said, ‘but we’re playing a game of statistics here, Marion. More men strangle than women. Even though it seems she was strangled with her own scarf. God, how in the hell did he ever get it off her without her realising what was going to happen?’

Marion shrugged her shoulders.

Jerry scowled. ‘She wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. So everyone says. And she knew him, trusted him. A boyfriend. Had to be.’

‘Maybe,’ Alex jabbed his finger at the map. ‘But why the location, why Pierce’s Park?’

Nobody spoke.

‘There’s another problem,’ Alex said. ‘Edwina didn’t have a set finishing time, remember. How did “he” know when to meet her?’

Marion rolled up the map, turned to Alex. ‘A phone call from work. Something like, I’m leaving now. See you in half an hour. It had to be. I’m onto it.’

‘No, let Jerry do it. The laboratory and the hospital are Jerry’s department. Jerry, is there another phone she could have used? One we’ve missed? Bring us a phone number and we find the killer.’

Jerry nodded. His eyes gleamed. ‘On it, Boss.’

‘You and I, Marion, we’re going to turn this problem on its head.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘How did “he” convince her? How did someone convince Edwina to go to the park? This was a woman who was a nervous driver. Drove set routes. And not one word to anyone about it. It had to be a mighty strong reason to make her go there after work. You’d think if she was meeting a secret boyfriend she’d have let on to someone.’

‘Who?’ demanded Marion. ‘Not Mrs O’Brien for sure. She wouldn’t have approved. Who else? Not her children. Not Juliana. They barely crossed paths anymore.’

They looked at each other. ‘Rose,’ they said together.

‘We need to talk to Rose again,’ said Marion.

‘Yes, I think you do,’ answered