Letting out the Worms: Guilty or not? If not then the alternative is terrifying (Kitty Thomas Book 1 by Sue Nicholls (top e book reader TXT) 📗

‘Have you seen him?’ Maurice asked, stretching his neck towards her.

‘Only the once.’ She swallowed. Maurice was a sad figure, standing there in the doorway.

He sighed, and she experienced a flash of sympathy for this pathetic old man. Josh didn’t realise how lucky he was to have a father who cared about him - longed for his visit - for love, not gain. Next time she saw Josh she would encourage him to call on Maurice to see the improvements to the house and garden.

She experienced a moment of disbelief. In a matter of weeks, she had found herself among many people who cared about her, liked her, wanted to help her. The thought made her eyes fill with the heat of grateful tears. It was good to be giving something in return: this cleaning for Maurice and, more significantly, aiding Kitty in her investigations. She smiled at Maurice and said, ‘I’ll get on then,’ and Maurice toddled obediently off, whistling.

When she was sure he was once more engrossed in his unruly border, Anwen returned to her scrutiny of the drawer, glad of the excuse she now had. She pulled a ruled notebook from under the heap of papers and put it on the table. Next, she set to work riffling through the rest of the drawer’s contents. There were ancient, blurred bills going back years, greasy shopping lists jotted onto scraps of paper, and calendars - many. She screwed up her eyes, trying to picture Kitty’s spreadsheet. Had Fee died in 1995, or 1996? Unsure, she gathered up all the calendars from 1992 to 1998 and wiggled them into her bag.

By late afternoon, the house was a good deal cleaner. Pale colour had returned to the carpets and there was a lustre to the surfaces. When Maurice, at her behest, came to check on her work, he was delighted. ‘I don’t recognise that carpet,’ he said, standing at the entrance to the living room.

‘There’s still plenty to do. I’ll clean inside the oven tomorrow and give the bedrooms a good go.’ She stepped out of the door, already thinking of Josh with his strapping muscles, the heat radiating from his body and an aroma of concrete rising from his clothes. She loved the way he had ignored the other men’s jibes to talk to her, young as she was.

She swapped the heavy bag containing the calendars onto her other shoulder and plodded along the pavement on aching feet, planning a steaming shower and comfy jimjams when she got home.

When she neared the building site, she began to look out for Josh, and soon spotted a figure throwing a shovel into the back of a battered van. It was him. She quickened her pace, her feet suddenly light.

‘Hello,’ she said.

Josh popped his head over the door. ‘Hello Anwen. We must stop meeting like this.’ He gave her a grin.

She covered her embarrassment by scooping her hair behind one ear and saying, ‘I’ve been at your dad’s.’

‘I guessed you had.’ He slammed the doors shut. 'Can I give you a lift home?’

In the van, the shovel and other tools rattled and clanged behind them, and Josh raised his voice to ask if she was planning to do anything with her friends tomorrow, Sunday.

She bellowed back that she was returning to Maurice’s. ‘You should come over and see. You won’t know it.’

‘Maybe I will,’ he said.

They sat in silence for a while and Anwen dredged through her brain for something to say. Finally, she came up with, ‘I’m seeing Kitty this evening.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yes, I’m helping her with her investigation into her mother’s death.’

They turned a corner and the tools in the back crashed to one side. After a lengthy silence, Josh asked, ‘What investigation’s that?’

‘Um, she’s trying to piece together the events that led up to the murder.’

After another interval Josh said, ‘She told us she wanted to talk things through so we could put everything behind us. I didn’t know it was an investigation. Why’s she doing that?’

Anwen faltered. ‘I think Max Rutherford has come out of jail. Kitty told me he’s still claiming he didn’t do it.’

‘What are you helping her with?’ Josh asked, and Anwen wriggled in her seat, heat travelling up her neck.

‘Oh, nothing much. Maybe sort out her papers and make tea.’

When they pulled up at the house, Anwen jumped out with a quick, ‘Thanks,’ and slammed the door of the van, before Josh could ask anything more.

38 KITTY

Kitty stared at the calendars Anwen was holding out to her. ‘Anwen, I appreciate your interest, but you shouldn’t have taken these. You can’t go snooping in Maurice’s stuff.’

Anwen’s shoulders drooped. ‘I thought you’d be pleased. It’s the period when your mum died and Twitch disappeared, isn’t it?’

‘Yes. It is.’ Kitty took the calendars and flicked through them, dying to compare them with her spreadsheet. ‘It may be useful, but if Maurice had caught you, you would have lost your job.’ She shook her head. ‘I shouldn’t have told you what I was working on.’

‘But you did,’ Anwen pleaded, ‘And now you have these, why don’t we see if you can add anything to your spreadsheet?’

Kitty’s head snapped up. Now she was angry. Anwen, whom she had trusted to be alone in her flat, had poked in her papers. Her crossness made her sharp. ‘Enough! I don’t appreciate your snooping around in my things, either.’ She nodded at the door. ‘I’m sorry, but I’d like you to leave. I’m not sure I want you working for me.’ She fished out her purse and handed a tearful Anwen her money. ‘This covers the work you’ve done. I’ll be in touch if I need you again.’

When Anwen had left, Kitty sat down at the dining room table and flicked through Maurice’s entries. There were not