The Cold Light of Mourning - By Elizabeth J. Duncan Page 0,29
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“Can you tell me when and where you last saw Ms. Thompson?”
“We haven’t seen her since last night, just before we all went to bed,” Anne replied and went on to describe the events of the day as clearly as she could—who they had spoken to, up and down the stairs, in and out of rooms, phone messages left, and hopes raised and dashed.
“And did you check with this manicure woman to see if Meg Wynne kept her appointment?” asked DS Morgan.
“Yes,” said Anne. “Jennifer went around there, and she said Meg Wynne kept her appointment, everything went fine, and then she left.”
“Well, since that’s the last place we know she was, we’ll start there,” DS Morgan said, “if you can tell us where we can find her. Now from your knowledge of your friend, would you say this is something she would be likely to do?”
“Not turn up at her own wedding? Absolutely not!” said Jennifer, “and that’s what we’ve been saying all day. This is so out of character and that’s why we’re really worried. What do you think could have happened?”
DS Morgan looked to her superior and then, choosing her words carefully, tried to be realistic but reassuring.
“It’s still very early in our investigation, so it’s too soon to say. But at this point, we’re treating it as a missing persons case. We know this Meg Wynne had enough money that if, for some reason, she wanted to disappear, she was certainly in a position to do that. We’re keeping an open mind. You’d be surprised how often the people turn up. We’ll also have a ring around the local hospitals. Sometimes people are hurt or injured and it’s days before they can be identified.”
She paused.
“However, if, for some reason she has chosen to disappear, remember that people always run from something or to something. Give that some thought. See if you can come up with anything.”
The two police officers got up to leave.
“There’s something else we’d like to know,” said Morgan. “Tell me about the arrangements here. Who was staying at the hotel?”
“Well, we each had our own rooms, that is Jennifer, Meg Wynne, and I,” said Anne.
“And Meg Wynne’s parents have a room here, too,” added Jennifer.
“Yes, that’s right,” said Anne. “I just moved my stuff in here today because Jennifer and I wanted to be together, but we’ve kept all the rooms until tomorrow.”
“And Miss Thompson’s room? Did you go in there at all today?”
“Yes, we got the manager to let us in earlier, when Emyr arrived.”
“Did you disturb anything or was anything out of place when you went in?”
“No, the room had been made up and everything seemed to be there. She has some jewellery in the hotel safe. When we got in last night from the party she took her hair clip and earrings and put them in their boxes, and we took those down ourselves and asked that they be put in the safe. But there may be pieces in her room that we don’t know about.”
“Well, that’ll do for now,” Davies said. “Here’s my card. Call me if you think of anything else, no matter how trivial or silly it might seem to you. Let me decide what’s important.”
“There is one thing we wanted to say to you,” Anne said.
The two police officers looked expectantly at the girls.
“It’s just that we work in PR, so we know the value of publicity. If there’s anything we can do to help get the word out that Meg Wynne is missing, we’re only too glad to help. I expect your press office will be taking this up, and they’ll probably want this.”
Jennifer held out a photo of Meg Wynne.
Davies took it from her and held it to one side so Morgan could see.
The photograph showed an elegant woman seated in a period chair with delicate armrests. Her full-length, pale aquamarine dress shimmered under the photographer’s lights but it was to the large diamond on her left hand, as it rested gently on her right forearm, that the viewer’s eyes were drawn. Meg Wynne gazed serenely at the camera, the smallest of smiles at the corner of her mouth. She appeared to be in a grandly decorated room, with a large tapestry behind her.
“It’s her engagement photo,” Jennifer said. “She looked especially beautiful there, we thought. Her father-in-law loves that photo.”
“And where was this taken?” asked Davies.
“At the Hall, at Christmas. She brought the photo back with her when she returned in the New