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

Alex was pacing back and forth. Something had sparked in his brain when Rose had mentioned the brother was a judge. A tiny little flare of recognition. A connection had been made, but what? He couldn’t place it, but someone else might.

It took most of the day to find everyone, assemble them in the squad room. Before Alex could stand in front of them with the flimsiest of leads.

‘A judge,’ he said. ‘I’m looking for a judge. In one of the witness statements, someone mentioned a judge.’ There were blank stares from everyone. How many people had been interviewed, how many names had been taken? How many telephone numbers? The whole investigation was collapsing under the weight of information. Nevertheless, no one doubted Detective Cameron. Quiet and mild, but the brain, they all knew, was razor sharp.

‘Tomorrow morning, first thing,’ he said. ‘Start now, but by tomorrow morning I want the name. Somewhere, one of you has it on a piece of paper, in a file, on the database or locked in your brain.’

* The next morning, Alex was waiting for them. He didn’t need to ask, saw it written on their faces as they came in the door. Nothing. Nothing until PC Ryan came tearing along the corridor short of breath but with a huge grin, waving his notebook. ‘Got it, Sir!’

Everyone stopped. The room fell silent.

‘Right at the beginning of the investigation, he was one of the people up on the hill. From the fancy houses. Judge Nyss. Spelt funny. NYSS.’

‘Read it out, son,’ said Alex, immediately regretting his words, but it was too late. He was excited. So was everyone else.

The constable flipped his notebook open. ‘His wife went to their beach property on the Coromandel, Saturday morning, but he stayed back in town for a Law Society dinner. Left after the do. Got there about two in the morning. Went to lunch at the beach with friends on Sunday and then drove back to town, got back late Sunday night.’

‘Did he indeed?’ said Alex, his voice low. ‘Very convenient.’ He began to pace from one end of the room to the other. ‘We’ll finish for now, but listen, forget the name. Remember we have nothing on this man. If one word of this leaks, that’s the end of your job. This is no ordinary person. This is a judge. A very respected judge. This man has status and influence.’

Alex strode back to his office, Marion and Jerry on his heels.

‘What do we do, Boss?’ It was Jerry, his strong thick arms folded in front of his body.

Alex glanced at him and at Marion standing rigid beside him. ‘Not like you to be so quiet, Mar.’

‘Not like you to net us a judge, Alex.’

‘Yes, well, we’ve hardly netted him yet. First things first. Find out if this is our man. Is this the man who once lived in number eleven Edmund Street?’

* Rose was on her way to work. It was a magnificent winter's day. The air was cold and clear, with not a breath of wind. She had allowed herself an hour to linger in the park on her way to university. Time to sit on the grass and soak in the rays while she read over the laboratory notes. It made her feel old, sitting among the students. The teenagers and the twenty-somethings, lying on the grass with not a care in the world. Friends sitting cross-legged, chatting. Lovers entwined. This was their park.

She’d found a spot on her own and had opened her notebook when her phone rang.

‘It’s me, Juliana.’

‘Juliana. Have you been to see …’

‘Oh yes, I have,’ Juliana cut in. ‘The family name was unusual. Nyss, spelt N-Y-S-S. He’s a judge. I’ve got lots to tell you. Let’s meet tomorrow night.’

‘Okay.’

‘Once the old duck started talking, I couldn’t stop her. Tell you all tomorrow. Got to dash. Jack’s at seven. Kiss kiss.’

Nyss. What a strange name, thought Rose. She stood up and set off to the lab at a fast pace. There was time to google and find out about Judge Nyss before class started.

* ‘Whatever we do,’ Alex said, ‘it has to be with the lightest touch.’ Jerry and Marion nodded. ‘No barging around Ponsonby asking about Trudi’s brother.’

‘Okay,’ Jerry said, ‘what about this? I talk to Births, Deaths and Marriages. Put forward six names, all variations on a theme. Make up a story about spelling or something. Have them check a batch lot.’

Marion frowned. ‘A bit over the top, surely? Can’t you pull a record without a problem? Does it matter?’

Jerry stood up. ‘You’re probably right, Mar, but better safe than sorry. Leave it to me.’

‘Aren’t we being paranoid, Alex?’ Marion said.

‘Maybe, but if he gets wind of us, believe me, the sky will

fall in.’

Jerry came back an hour later. ‘He’s our man. No doubt. Edward Albert Nyss, born to parents Ellen and Thomas of eleven Edmund Street. From the internet we see Edward Albert Nyss is now a judge. So, what the hell does it mean?’

‘Good question,’ said Alex. ‘When is a coincidence not a coincidence? Is it just chance a man born at eleven Edmund Street, now Edwina’s house, lived up the hill from where she was killed?’ Alex was pacing now. ‘Remember, he and Edwina were together in the garden of number eleven when his sister died, and now he’s there again within a couple of hundred metres from where Edwina died. This isn’t a coincidence. Especially when Edwina went out of her way to buy number eleven. Also, don’t forget, from what everyone says it must have been hell for her to drive to Pierce’s Park. No. I’m sure of it. Something’s going on.’

‘This man is what, in his early sixties?’ asked Marion.

Alex nodded.

‘So this event, when his sister fell off the swing and died, was like, forty-five years ago. Right?’

‘Right.’

‘What the hell are we meant to do? This is crazy. What are our chances of finding a