The Cold Light of Mourning - By Elizabeth J. Duncan Page 0,33
into the coming darkness of sleep.
“She’s out there somewhere,” Anne said softly. “She’s out there. And we haven’t got a clue where she is.”
Back at the Red Dragon Hotel, Meg Wynne’s mother was asking the same question.
“What could have happened to her? Where can she be? Why would she disappear like that?”
“For the last time, woman,” shouted her husband. “I don’t know. She’s got money and lots of it by all accounts. She can go anywhere she goddamned well chooses. And look at the bother she’s caused. The bloody police all over the place, with their questions and mucky looks.”
Ten
Penny was surprised when her telephone rang at eight on Sunday morning. She was even more surprised that her early morning caller was a police officer asking if she and another officer could come around immediately to ask her a few questions.
Although most people would have asked what it was about, Penny just agreed to meet with them and said she would wait for them downstairs in the shop.
A few minutes later Morgan and Davies were on her doorstep.
It was a lovely morning, the start of a perfect June day, with a fresh, light breeze gently stirring the treetops under a cloudless blue sky.
“Would you like to talk in the shop or do you want to go up to the flat?” Penny asked. “I must tell you I’m a little nervous. Should I offer you a cup of tea or coffee? I don’t often get visits from the police, so it’s a bit … well, you know.”
Davies smiled reassuringly at her, taking in her red hair and trim figure.
“Actually, I do know. Well, first things first, I’m Detective Chief Inspector Gareth Davies and this is Detective Sergeant Bethan Morgan, and thank you, no, we’ll not trouble you for a drink. We’re fine.”
Morgan smiled encouragingly at Penny.
“And let me begin by apologizing for troubling you at this hour, but we need to get an early start today. If you’re planning to get to church, we’ll try not to keep you,” he added.
Penny led the way into the shop.
“This will do nicely,” Davies said, as he and Morgan sat in the two clients’ chairs and Penny pulled up a seat to face them. “I expect you know why we’re here.”
Penny looked blankly at him, her face clouded and troubled. “No,” she said, “absolutely not. I’ve not got the faintest idea why you’re here.”
The two officers looked at each another and Davies took the lead.
“Well, we’re investigating a missing persons report. Meg Wynne Thompson has gone missing.”
“But she can’t be,” Penny exclaimed. “She just got married yesterday. What on earth could have happened to her?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” said Morgan, “and as far as our investigation goes, you’re ground zero.”
“Sorry, I’m not taking this in,” Penny said, looking from one to the other. “I’m not following you.”
“We’re not doing a very good job of explaining this,” Davies said. “Let’s go back to the beginning.
“According to the information we have, Meg Wynne Thompson came to your shop yesterday morning for a manicure.”
“That’s right,” Penny said. “She did. It was nine o’clock, the first appointment of the day. She was right on time, which I liked.”
“Good,” said Davies. “Right, well, she came here for a manicure, and so far, we haven’t been able to trace her movements after that, so you’ll understand now why we’re here. At this point, we believe you were the last person to have seen her.”
Penny struggled to make sense of what she was hearing.
“I’m staggered. Are you saying that after she left my shop she just disappeared?” She sat back as Davies gave her a bit more time to think about what she had just been told.
“And she didn’t show up for her wedding?” Penny asked.
“That is correct.”
“Oh, poor Emyr. That’s terrible, just terrible.”
“So now, Miss Brannigan, is it? I need to know everything that happened here yesterday. Start at the beginning if you don’t mind, and walk me through it. Don’t leave anything out. The sergeant here will take notes.”
Penny walked over to the small work desk against the far wall, and picked up a burgundy appointment book and small metal box.
She returned to Davies and opened the book to show him the page for Saturday.
“Here she is,” Penny said, pointing to an entry. “She was here at nine for a manicure. It was uneventful, ordinary.”
Morgan was writing frantically while Davies, paying close attention, leaned slightly forward, maintaining eye contact.