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

Marion tried her best, but Mrs O’Brien was tough. Her back had straightened and her lips hardened into a thin line when Marion asked about the Nyss family. Marion had met her match. She went back to Alex and reported Mrs O’Brien wasn’t talking. ‘No dice. It’s possible she knows something, but there’s no way she’ll talk out of turn. Not to the police anyway.’

Alex took to lying awake at night, a knot of worry sitting tight in his stomach. He tried to convince himself Jerry was right—the judge couldn’t link Edwina to Rose—but at three in the morning his brain ran wild, and the scenarios it created left him dull and exhausted. He decided to talk to the police psychologist.

The psychologist was old. Methuselah, Jerry called him. Long past retirement age but with an agile brain. The art of profiling wasn’t used often in Alex’s patch, but it wasn’t a profile Alex wanted. Just confirmation or otherwise of his innermost fears. Was he crazy or not, imagining Rose was in danger?

It took the psychologist a couple of days to wade through the material and another morning with Alex, discussing the case.

‘It’s an incredible story, Alex. This man, he’s arrogant, confident, feels invincible. Each case in front of me, happened on his own turf. If what you believe is true, then he killed his mother and sister in his house in Edmund street, and his mother-in-law in his house on the Point. And he’s got away with it each time. In fact, he’s been rewarded. In the case of his mother and mother-in-law there’s been sympathy from the attending doctors, and no doubt from other people. His mother’s death gave him the house as well. When he sold it there was enough money to launch a new life.

The case of his father-in-law is even more astonishing. He killed his father-in-law while people were watching. From the lakeshore, true, but regardless it shows extraordinary confidence.’ The psychologist grimaced. ‘I see he was awarded a medal. Official praise and recognition. Hero status. It must have made him feel godlike.’

‘Why?’ Alex asked. ‘Why take such risks?’

The psychologist shook his head. ‘Hard for me to say, Alex. His sister’s death was most likely accidental, but it set him on a pathway. The others appear to be opportunistic. He picks his moment. Planned? Well, in a sense. When he killed his mother, she was ill and there was a locum in charge. Not their normal doctor. He couldn’t foresee those events but he made a decision to take advantage of them. Possibly the same with his father-in-law. The man had been drinking and was showing off in his speedboat. He took advantage of the moment. With the mother-in-law, he must have decided the sooner the better. I’m guessing here, but I imagine having her live in his house would have been intolerable

for him.

He looked up at Alex. ‘But remember, his arrogance has been his undoing. When it came to killing Edwina, he did it on his own patch again, gifting you the opportunity to connect the dots. If he’d killed her somewhere else, you’d never have tracked him.’

Alex gasped. The judge’s wife overseas, and the judge, renovating his house, so close to Rose. An opportunity created. An opportunity he could seize.

‘If I had to summarize,’ the psychologist continued, ‘I’d say this. He’s been getting away with murder for over forty years. He must have developed an enormous sense of control. I reiterate. This man must feel godlike. He must think he can kill at will, get away with it and be rewarded by it. He’s built a life of wealth and a career most people only dream about. Then up pops Edwina.’

The psychologist frowned. ‘Imagine how he felt. He killed Edwina to protect himself. As far as you know, that’s the first time he’s been forced into taking some kind of rear-guard action. The cars? They seem to represent a demarcation. The Jaguar his old stable life, the Honda his new life. Dangerous. Very dangerous. Will he kill again if he thinks he is in danger of being found out? Most definitely! Remember Alex. For decades he’s thought of himself as invincible. Be very careful.’

* Rose sat opposite Alex in the Malaysian restaurant she had chosen for dinner. She had picked up a taste for Malaysian food when she’d lived in Asia. The restaurant was small and dingy with a bright red neon sign in the window and fake flowers on the front counter, but she loved their rendang and satay beef. Alex, more used to the flavours of Italy his mother had cooked, declared he loved the food too and ate with gusto. Their Friday night after-work date. One week she chose a restaurant, the next week was his turn.

Rose looked at Alex’s hands, at his long fingers and strong wrists and thought she was a fool for not plunging in. But she wasn’t ready. Even tonight she had two ghosts hovering over her shoulder. The ghost of her husband and the ghost of Edwina. But it was the ghost of Edwina that was giving her the most trouble. Not the modern slim version, but the old Edwina, the one with permed hair, bunny tracksuit and big square eighty’s glasses. The one who’d had a difficult life, who’d stepped out into the big world and ended up being murdered. She was the one who screamed for justice. Whenever Rose and Alex met, it was as if Edwina sat between them. Worse, earlier in the evening Alex had asked her about the family who had lived at eleven Edmund Street when Edwina was a child. The Nyss family. Did she know if anyone in the neighbourhood ever had anything to do with Trudi’s sibling? A boy, wasn’t it? Wasn’t he the judge Rose had mentioned?

Her heart had bumped and jumped before sinking into her boots. She