The Cold Light of Mourning - By Elizabeth J. Duncan Page 0,34
paused for a moment and looked away.
“She had on a kind of pink plaid boxy jacket with fringe, just along here,” Penny said, running her hands down an imaginary lapel. “Blue jeans, I think, and some kind of strappy sandals. Fancy shoes like the other two girls were wearing when they were here on Friday. People were saying how totally inappropriate those shoes were for the country. Just silly, really.”
“What did you talk about?” Morgan asked.
“Not much, actually. The usual client chitchat. She didn’t seem to want to talk. She did say, though, that she had chosen peonies for her flowers and it wouldn’t be long before everyone would want them. She said she’d even designed a special peony fragrance for herself. She seemed very sure of herself, very confident with her choices.”
“Did she seem troubled, or upset, or anything like that?”
“No, she didn’t. But come to think of it, she didn’t seem very nervous or excited, either, the way most brides are on their wedding day. Not that I see that many of them.”
“Really? I would have thought wedding parties would be a natural for a business like yours,” Davies said.
“Oh they are. I just don’t get to see them on their wedding day. Bridal parties are usually done the day before. There’s too much to do on the day, and the manicure takes up too much time, and then your nails are a bit tacky and you can’t get on with things. So I was rather surprised when Meg Wynne made the appointment for yesterday, not Friday. The other girls came in on Friday. Anne and the other one.”
“Jennifer.”
“That’s it. They seemed like nice girls. Very supportive of their friend. So that was all there was to the manicure. Wait a minute! Yes, right, one of the bridesmaids, I can’t remember which one it was, came by yesterday, around lunchtime, asking if Meg Wynne had been here and did I know where she went afterwards. I did wonder about that at the time and then I thought no more about it.”
She thumped her forehead lightly with the heel of her hand.
“Of course. I should have realized then that there was a problem, but I never would have dreamed that she wouldn’t turn up for her wedding. That’s the last thing you’d expect.”
Davies continued to look at Penny, while Morgan stole a glance at her watch.
“Right, well, you’ve been very helpful and we appreciate that,” he said. “Just a couple more questions. How long did the manicure take and did she say where she was going after she left you?”
“It took about forty-five minutes, a bit longer, maybe. And no, she didn’t say where she was going. I just assumed she would be going back to the hotel or somewhere for hair and makeup and all the rest of it.”
Morgan folded up her notebook and looked expectantly at her boss.
“One more thing. I wonder if you can tell us what you were doing yesterday.”
Penny gave him a puzzled look.
“Me? I had a full morning in the shop until about lunchtime, and then I walked up to Ffridd Uchaf to go sketching. I like to work with the afternoon light, see. When I got back, I tidied everything up. I have to do the accounts on Saturday, if I’m to have any hope of staying on top of them. Then I had an early supper and read a chapter or two of the new Maeve Binchy. I watched a bit of television, and then went to bed. I don’t lead a very exciting life, I’m afraid. Very dull and predictable it is, to be honest.” A moment later she added, “Why would you even ask that? You surely don’t think I had anything to do with this, do you? I didn’t even know the woman, for goodness sake.”
“I was wondering why you hadn’t heard about the wedding, that’s all, and obviously it was because you were away from the town.”
After a few moments of silence, Penny followed up with something that had just occurred to her.
“I guess it will be on the news,” she said.
“Oh, it’s got all the ingredients,” Morgan agreed. “This story’ll be all over the news today. You may get some calls from reporters, once they figure out you were one of the last people to see Meg Wynne Thompson.”
“I hope not,” Penny said, looking from one to the other. “I don’t like the sound of that. What should I say if a reporter calls?”