No Stone Tells Where I Lie - Madeline Kalvis (easy books to read txt) 📗

it eroded the confidence on which police heavily relied. Luckily, the woman didn’t seem the least discouraged and ushered her up to the front door of the house. Emma composed herself and straightened her coat.

“What the problem?”

The older woman looked up and down the deserted alley and lowered her voice.

“It’s very serious. Come have a look.”

The front room was dark and dusty. Piles of old newspapers stood in the corners and on the furniture. A box of what could have been clothing or rags looked like it was melting into the table on which it sat. Through this room was the kitchen, tidier but just as dark, and covered in a crust of grime. The smell shifted from mildew on cardboard to cold grease on metal.

When the woman put her hand on the kitchen door, she looked through the narrow slit in the blinds, then over Emma’s shoulder. Emma wondered who she could be looking for. The door opened onto a small walled garden, if a few patches of tussock grass and some mud could qualify as a garden. Emma stood in the doorway. She looked back at the woman, who had a hopeful look on her face.

“Well, Constable?”

“Uh, what exactly should I be seeing here?”

“Well, Trevor, of course!”

“And is Trevor here now?”

“Don’t be daft!”

The woman shoved past Emma and stomped into a corner of the garden where the wall was chest height. Emma followed helplessly.

“Maybe I should identify myself. I’m PC Emma Cambourne. I was supposed-”

“Here! Look here!”

Emma approached the corner. There were feathers mixed in with the mud, and a dark patch that could have been blood.

“I see feathers. Are they part of the picture?”

“Those are Trevor’s. He must have put up a terrific fight, the poor lad.”

“So Trevor… is a bird.”

“A goose, obviously. And someone on this island has killed him.” She squatted over the scene of the crime and started uprooting nearby plants. “Aren’t you going to look for evidence?”

“I’ll write a report as soon as I get back to the station. Any idea who could have stolen it?”

“He’s not an ‘it,’ Constable. Dana. Can I call you Dana? I don’t like stuffy titles. I’m Helen Ross.”

“Well, it’s Emma.”

“It’s not important.”

“And either way, I’d prefer you didn’t.”

“It was probably Darren. You know what he’s like.” She continued to comb the ground for clues. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without my Trevor. He always knew how to cheer me up.”

“As I said, it would be a great help if you could give me a little more information. Do any of your neighbors know when you’re not at home?”

“How should I know what they know?”

“Has anyone asked you about the goose lately? A name would be helpful.”

“Don’t remember most of their names. I don’t talk to the neighbors much. And besides I’m always home.”

“Always?”

“No point in going out, is there? Thieves and murderers about. Better to just stay home. I used to go to church sometimes. It’s a nice place. Makes it all a little easier to bear. Not anymore. I only went out this morning to look for Trevor. Lucky I was just locking up when I saw you coming down the high street.”

Helen kicked over a small rock and squinted at the mud underneath.

“Whatever scoundrel took my Trevor struck while I was sleeping. I came down late last night to find this.” Her voice rose as she spoke until she was shouting over the wall when she got to the word “this.” Then she glanced over her shoulder and leaned in to within an inch of Emma’s face. “I don’t suppose you’ve been here long.”

“No, actually. I’m from-”

“It’s not important. Just keep your head clear. If you give people around here half a chance, they’ll make you think you’ve gone absolutely mad.” She dropped to her hands and knees and picked feathers from the mud. Wherever she disturbed the mud small crabs popped to the surface and fled.

Emma put her hands on her hips, then crossed them over her chest. One fell to her side while the other went into a coat pocket.

“I think I have everything I need here, Miss Ross. As I say, I’ll write that report. And I will ask around in case there are any witnesses.”

“Hang on, aren’t you forgetting the most important part?”

Emma looked left and right without moving her head.

“Over here, Dana. The most important evidence.” Helen pulled a small wooden box out from under a bush and handed it to Emma. It was light, and slightly sticky.

Emma opened the box expecting to find some portentous clod of dirt, or a button popped from the scoundrel’s jacket. Inside of the box was a tangle of fresh gore and bones.

“Is this…?”

“My Trevor. I found him up the hill.”

The bones bore marks that looked as if they had been chewed.

“At first glance, Ma’am, it would seem that Trevor was mauled by an animal.”

Helen’s upper lip curled in scorn. She thrust a hand to the wrist into the carcass and pulled out pieces.

“Do you see this?” The long bones had all been cracked in half. “You think a petrel did this, do you? Or maybe a sea gull?”

Emma was hardly a forensic expert on what a bird could do to another bird. But on an island devoid of native mammals, it was a fair question what could gnaw on a bone. Staring into the woman’s unblinking eyes, Emma realized what answer she was expected to give.

“So it’s your opinion that a person is responsible?”

“What else could it be?”

“OK. Yes.” Emma took a deep breath in. It didn’t help. “OK. I’ll just ask you to hold on to this, then.” She had to lean forward to force the box into the other woman’s arms. “And I will get in touch with you as soon as there are any developments.”

She backed into the kitchen, leaving Helen to hold the box under her arm while rummaging through it with the other hand. When she got to the front room, Emma was walking as