Jigsaw

by Anthea Fraser

  ‘Yes, she has done for years. She’s never come to any harm before.’

  ‘Then she’s been lucky,’ Barrett said shortly. ‘As I was saying, since it seemed likely it was a suspicious death, scenes of crime and the coroner’s officer were informed and the area taped off. The – your aunt wasn’t removed until all the usual measures had been taken. It was only when she arrived at the hospital that one of the nurses recognized her, and gave us your address.’

  ‘And what was the cause of death?’ Rona asked.

  The inspector eyed her speculatively. ‘That won’t be established until after the post mortem.’

  ‘But there were no signs that she’d been – attacked?’

  ‘No obvious signs, no, but it can’t be ruled out. Unfortunately there have been several muggings lately, and it was only a question of time before one of them had serious consequences.’

  ‘But she wasn’t mugged,’ Rona pointed out. ‘She hadn’t anything with her.’

  ‘As I explained,’ Barrett went on heavily, ‘we weren’t to know that, and neither, come to that, would a mugger. Ladies, particularly old ladies, usually carry handbags. There was no handbag, therefore the obvious conclusion was that she’d been robbed.’

  Nuala, sensing the rising animosity, changed the subject. ‘You said it was a policeman who found her?’

  ‘Yes; in view of the present situation we’ve increased the number of officers on the beat.’

  Rona bit back the comment that it had been of little help. ‘Where was she found?’

  ‘In Greenwood Lane, at the corner of King Street.’

  ‘And she was just – lying there?’ Nuala whispered.

  He nodded, his face softening as he belatedly registered her distress. ‘Don’t upset yourself, Mrs Banks. After what you’ve told us, it seems probable it was a natural death after all – heart, possibly. Apart from robbery, there’s no reason to attack an old lady like that.’

  Rona went suddenly cold. ‘There just might have been,’ she said from a dry mouth.

  Nuala’s head spun round. ‘What do you mean?’ she demanded.

  ‘I’m sorry, Nuala. I didn’t want to worry you.’

  Barrett had straightened as his attention switched to Rona. ‘There’s something you haven’t told us?’

  Aware of his eyes boring into her and Nuala motionless at her side, she explained as succinctly as she could her current project, the fact that she’d interviewed Edna, later lost the cassette, and found the note on her windscreen.

  ‘I see.’ Barrett’s voice was clipped. ‘And did anything Miss Rosebury told you pose a threat to anyone?’

  ‘It’s possible; she was talking about a clandestine love affair, though she didn’t mention any names. She’d – seen them during her night walks.’

  ‘A love affair?’ Barrett repeated with raised eyebrow.

  ‘And that’s not quite all,’ Rona admitted in a low voice, avoiding Nuala’s accusing gaze. ‘There was a message on my mobile, asking if I’d found out who they were.’

  ‘You should have told me!’ Nuala said ringingly.

  ‘With hindsight, yes; I thought you’d enough to worry about.’

  ‘But if I’d known, I’d have stayed over last night too, and this wouldn’t have happened!’

  Surprisingly, Barrett came to Rona’s defence. ‘That doesn’t follow at all, Mrs Banks. If, as now seems likely, death was due to natural causes, it could have no connection with Miss – Parish, is it? – and her recording.’

  But his eyes were still suspicious as he turned back to Rona. ‘How did this caller know your mobile number?’

  Damn! Rona thought. ‘It was in the local paper.’

  ‘Why, exactly?’

  ‘So people could contact me if they’d anything of interest for my articles.’

  ‘Oh yes, your articles. I was forgetting you’re a journalist.’ He managed to instil a measure of scorn into the word. ‘Have you a transcript of the interview?’

  ‘I have, yes.’

  ‘I’d be grateful if you’d drop it into the station tomorrow morning. It would be as well for us to go over it. Anything else you’ve omitted to mention?’

  Rona flushed and her chin lifted as she met his eyes squarely. ‘No.’

  He held her gaze for a moment, then scraped back his chair and stood up. ‘I won’t keep you any longer, ladies. Sergeant Tyson here will show you out and there’s a car waiting to take you home. I’m sorry about your loss, Mrs Banks. My condolences.’

  He had turned away before Nuala had a chance to reply.

  ‘Better late than never,’ Rona said as they reached the corridor, uncaring that the sergeant was within hearing. ‘What an odious man.’

  Tyson reddened but made no comment, conducting them in silence to the main entrance of the hospital and handing them over to the uniformed constable waiting there. Still in silence, they were driven home.

  Mr Stanton was waiting up for them, his door ajar, and Nuala went in to bring him up to date.

  ‘I’ll make us all a hot drink,’ Rona volunteered, going on to the kitchen. As she was setting out the mugs, Nuala joined her. ‘Dad doesn’t want anything; he made himself a drink half an hour ago.’

  Rona said awkwardly, ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about losing the cassette, Nuala.’

  ‘It’s all right.’ She pulled out a chair and sat down. ‘I know you meant it for the best, and as the inspector said, I don’t suppose it would have made any difference.’

  Rona set the mugs of hot chocolate on the table and seated herself opposite. ‘I still can’t believe it. What a horrible thing to have happened.’

  ‘Yes; I suppose we’d all prefer to die in our beds.’

  ‘She’d had a long and useful life, though,’ Rona added, aware even as she said it that it was a cliché and as such probably not much comfort.

  They drank their chocolate in silence for several minutes before, to distract Nuala from her grief, she said lightly, ‘I met your husband last night. Did he tell you?’

  Nuala’s head jerked up and she flushed. ‘He mentioned it, yes.’

  ‘I wasn’t sure if you were expecting him.’

  ‘No, I wasn’t.’ Her eyes dropped away. ‘He phoned out of the blue a couple of weeks ago; that was the first we’d heard of him since he left. I thought we’d settled things, but he appeared on the doorstep last Wednesday. You – might have heard us arguing. The trouble is we’re not divorced and there’s no restraining order, so technically he can come and go as he pleases. If he’d stopped to think, though, he’d have realized we’d be out yesterday; Dad has his exercise class on Monday evenings, and Will goes to one of his school-friends for tea. We’re never back before eight. We only missed last week because it was your first night.’

  It seemed that was all she was going to say. Rona would have liked to know more about the elusive Clive, but probing was out of the question. They finished their chocolate, rinsed the mugs, and went wearily back up the stairs. It was four o’clock and dawn would soon be breaking.

  ‘I shall have to get up as usual,’ Nuala said, stifling a yawn. ‘I have to get Will to school and myself to work, but there’s no reason why you and Dad shouldn’t sleep in.’

  ‘I think I will,’ Rona said. ‘I hope you manage to get at least some sleep yourself.’

  Exhausted though she was, it was a while before she dropped off. Her mind kept replaying the visit to the hospital and the inspector’s supercilious stare, and she prayed fervently that Edna Rosebury’s death would prove to have no connection to the recording she had made.

  The room was full of sunshine when Rona finally stirred, and she stretched luxuriously. Then the events of the previous night flooded back and she sat up, amazed to find it was already ten o’clock. Fifteen minutes later, showered and dressed, she went downstairs and paused outside Jack Stanton’s door. She could hear his radio playing softly, so she tapped on the panel.

  ‘Mr Stanton? It’s Rona. I was wondering
if you’d like any breakfast?’

  There was a pause, then his voice called, ‘Come in, come in.’

  She’d not been in his room before, and her first impression was of relief. It resembled a pleasant bedsitter rather than the sickroom she’d anticipated. Jack, tidily dressed as always, was seated in an armchair doing the crossword, and beside him on a low table were his glasses case, a telephone, a dictionary and a library book. The radio was within easy reach, and he switched it off as she came in. Across the room a television straddled one corner, and there were some well-stocked book shelves. The neatly made bed against the wall, piled with cushions and with no headboard, had the appearance of a divan.

  He smiled shyly at her, and she thought again that the centre parting in his grey hair gave him a curiously old-fashioned look. Pain had cut grooves in his cheeks and around his mouth, but he was still a handsome man. ‘Breakfast, did you say? That sounds tempting.’

  ‘Would you like eggs and bacon? There are some in the fridge.’

  ‘Now you really are spoiling me. They’re usually reserved for Sundays.’

  ‘Let’s pretend it’s Sunday, then. I’ll bring it through when it’s ready.’

  ‘No, I’ll come and have it at the kitchen table, if you’ve no objection.’

  ‘I’d be delighted. Give me ten minutes – I’ll have to find where things are.’

  This, Rona realized, frying the eggs, would be the first proper conversation she’d had with the old man. When Nuala was present, he always stayed quietly in the background. The sound of his Zimmer reached her as she tipped the eggs on to a plate, and he manoeuvred himself into a chair.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind if I restrict myself to toast,’ she apologized, setting a coffee pot on the table. ‘I’m meeting a friend for lunch in a couple of hours.’

  ‘You shouldn’t have gone to this trouble just for me,’ he demurred. But she saw, to her pleasure, that he was tucking into his meal with gusto.

  ‘Dreadful business about Edna,’ he said suddenly.

  Rona nodded cautiously.

  ‘They think it was a heart attack, Nuala says.’

  ‘That’s right.’ Please God.

  ‘She was a great case when she was young. Helped bring up the younger ones, and was like a mother to Nuala when Florence died. Sunday tea times won’t be the same.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘Still, I suppose we all have to go sometime.’

  He wiped a piece of toast round the last remaining egg yolk, touched his napkin to his mouth, and abruptly changed the subject. ‘I hear you met Clive last night?’

  Rona met his sharp, interested gaze. ‘Yes.’

  ‘What did you think of him?’

  ‘We only exchanged a couple of words. I was on my way out to the vicarage.’

  ‘Always one for the easy buck,’ Jack continued, gazing into a past she could not see. ‘Edna and I saw through him from the first, but Nuala wouldn’t listen. She can be self-willed when she wants.’

  ‘What had you against him?’ Rona asked, topping up his coffee cup.

  ‘Never did an honest day’s work in his life,’ Jack said bluntly. ‘Always full of hair-brained schemes only just this side of the law. Then one time it caught up with him; he crossed the dividing line and ended up inside. We hoped it would serve as a lesson, but no, he had to get in with the wrong crowd, didn’t he?’

  Rona, remembering the foxy face, could well believe it. ‘Do you think he wants to come back?’

  Jack shook his head decidedly. ‘Not on your life; can’t take the responsibility. To tell you the truth I thought we’d seen the last of him, until he surfaced again a couple of weeks ago. Nuala was shaken, I could tell, even said something about starting proceedings, but I doubt if she’s done anything about it. Jonty Welles at the bank is sweet on her, and he’d soon make a move if the coast was clear. Perhaps Clive actually coming here will spur her on.’

  He took another piece of toast, buttered it lavishly and spread marmalade on top. Rona wondered guiltily if butter was also reserved for Sundays; there had been low-fat spreads in the fridge.

  ‘Don’t let me keep you,’ he said suddenly. ‘You must have things to do before your lunch engagement. Thank you for feeding me so well.’

  ‘It was a pleasure. If you really don’t mind, I will make a move. I – have to drop something in at the police station. Where is it, by the way?’

  ‘Granton Street. Runs along one side of the mall.’

  Close to the boutique, then. That was fortunate.

  ‘Thanks.’ She stood up and carried her plate and cup to the sink.

  ‘Never mind that. I’m used to tidying up.’

  She nodded her thanks, knowing he valued such independence as he had. ‘See you this evening, then,’ she said.

  Lindsey closed her office door with a sigh of relief. It had been a long and difficult morning, and she decided to treat herself to lunch at Dino’s. Too bad Ro wasn’t here to join her. She emerged on to Guild Street and was almost at the corner of Dean’s Crescent when she heard her name called, and turned to see a woman smilingly hurrying up to her.

  ‘I’m so glad I caught you, Miss Parish,’ she was saying, ‘I was going to telephone.’

  Lindsey regarded her blankly and the woman’s smile faltered as her eyes moved over her face.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said hesitantly, ‘you are Miss Parish, aren’t you?’

  ‘I’m Lindsey Parish, yes,’ Lindsey acknowledged. ‘Perhaps you thought I was my sister? People often mistake us.’

  ‘I do beg your pardon. Now I look more closely I can see the difference, but you’re incredibly alike. Twins, I take it?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  The woman smiled and held out her hand. ‘How remiss of me – I’ve not introduced myself. Catherine Bishop.’

  The name sounded faintly familiar, but Lindsey couldn’t place it.

  ‘Your sister came to see me about her articles on Buckford,’ Mrs Bishop continued. ‘I used to teach there.’

  Of course! Pops’s client, whom Rona had wanted to interview. ‘I’ve heard her mention you, and my father, too. I’m sorry I can’t help; Ro’s in Buckford until tomorrow evening.’

  ‘Yes, I should have realized that. It was just seeing you ahead of me . . .’ Her voice trailed off. ‘Anyway, I’m glad to have met you. Don’t trouble your sister, it was nothing important. We’ll catch up with each other some time.’ And with a smile and a nod, she continued on her way, feeling foolish and vaguely disappointed.

  She’d been pleased when she thought she recognized Rona, even wondering if she could spare the time for lunch. Her sister was amazingly like her; not quite as tall, perhaps, and her hair was longer – well below her shoulders. But the main difference lay in their personalities. She had exchanged only a few words with Lindsey, but the empathy that had been instantaneous with Rona was lacking. A nice enough young woman, no doubt, but she hadn’t Rona’s warmth.

  With a small, suppressed sigh, Catherine went to her solitary lunch.

  Since she had no way of knowing if or when the police would return her transcript, Rona decided to take the precaution of having it photocopied before parting with it, and was relieved to come across a shop offering the service. She purchased a large envelope, slipped the original inside with a brief note, and addressed it to DI Barrett.

  Then, following directions, she walked alongside the mall until she saw the squat building of the police station on the opposite side of the road. In front of it was a forecourt with a somewhat desultory fountain playing in the centre and several parked panda cars. Rona went through the swing doors into the foyer, keeping a weather eye open for Barrett. To her relief, there was no sign of him. She handed the packet to the sergeant at the desk, and thankfully made her escape.

  It was now twelve twenty, and time to track down Magda’s boutique. She crossed the road again, and entered the mall by one of its side doors. Surprisingly enough, it was the first time she’d been inside the vast, gl
ass-covered structure, and she could well understand the town’s pride in it. She found herself in a short passage lined on both sides by open-fronted shops selling a variety of goods, from mobile phones and exotic flowers to baby-wear. The passage ended in a T-junction with the main concourse, and opposite her was an enormous, two-storeys-high fountain with lights playing on it, that put the police effort to shame. On either side of the fountain, vast stretches of marble flooring led away into the distance, lined with a bewildering array of stores and coffee bars, all filled with a moving, talking, laughing throng of shoppers. At intervals, escalators gave access to the upper floor, which was also heavily populated.

  To Rona’s relief, a stand at her side displayed leaflets showing the layout of the mall. She took one and ran her eye down it till she came to Magdalena, and, judging by the number of the store alongside her, guessed it must be some twenty yards down to her right.

  In fact, she recognized it even before checking its name; all Magda’s boutiques looked the same, and in this instance she’d achieved that effect even without a frontage. Rona would have expected nothing less.

  A notice on a stand just inside apologized to customers for the temporary paucity of choice following the break-in, though to Rona’s eyes the rails seemed remarkably well stocked. No doubt Magda had arrived that morning with a fresh input, plundered from her other outlets. The interior stretched back quite a way, and at the far end Rona could see the layout of the new café.

  She threaded her way towards it between browsing customers, and at once caught sight of Magda at a corner table. She had started towards her when a girl at the entrance smilingly barred her way, asking if she’d booked a table. Must be doing well already, Rona thought, and certainly all the tables seemed occupied.

  ‘I’m meeting Magda,’ she explained. ‘Don’t worry – I can see her.’

  The girl checked a list. ‘Ms Parish?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘If you’d like to go in, then.’

  It was only as she approached the table that Rona registered Magda was not alone; she was talking to a woman who had her back to Rona, a woman with auburn hair. As she drew level, Magda looked up and smiled, and her companion turned. It was Helena Maddox.