The Cold Light of Mourning - By Elizabeth J. Duncan Page 0,70

died many years ago in a very sad accident, before we could get married. He was a police officer, too, so maybe that’s why I know a little about your work and what you have to do here.”

“I’m sorry to hear he died,” Davies said simply. “I lost my wife a few years ago.”

“Oh,” said Penny. “Now it’s my turn to be sorry.”

“No, it’s okay,” said Davies. “Don’t be. I wasn’t much of a husband and we didn’t have much of a marriage left. We’d grown apart. If she hadn’t got sick, I probably would have moved out, but as it turned out, her cancer wasn’t discovered until it was too late and she died within a couple of months.”

The two sat in silence for a moment.

“Well, now that I’ve put such a damper on everything,” said Davies, “I wonder if can find something a bit lighter to discuss. Murder, for example.”

Penny smiled at him and as their soup and salad arrived, decided she was rather enjoying herself.

He took a few spoonfuls of soup and then looked at her.

“Sorry, but I’m curious to know. Did your fiancé discuss his work with you?” he asked.

“Oh, all the time,” said Penny airily. “I loved hearing everything that he did—what he felt he could tell me, of course. I think it takes a really special kind of person to be a police officer. After all, you’re not usually mixing with the nicest people, are you?”

“No,” agreed Davies. “I always thought my marriage would have gone better if she’d taken more interest in my work but she just didn’t want to know. It’s often hard for police officers to see the kinds of things they see, and leave it all behind when they head home. But often the people at home don’t understand what we’re up against, and so we turn to other officers for comfort and support—and that can lead into dangerous territory.

“There was certainly an element of that in my marriage. I was hardly ever home, and just left all the domestic things up to her. She looked after the house and the kids and I paid the bills. And in the end, there wasn’t much left of the two of us.”

Penny murmured sympathetically.

“With my fiancé, it was just the opposite. We enjoyed sharing everything and were very close. I was devastated when he died. Relationships don’t come easy for me. It took me a long time to get close to him and then a long time to come to terms with his death. He was only thirty-two.”

“I have to ask,” said Davies. “What happened?”

“He’d managed to rescue a child who had fallen into the Conwy River,” said Penny. “But the current was too strong and Tim was swept away before the fire brigade could pull him to shore.” She shook her head.

Davies reached out to touch her hand and although she welcomed the warmth of the gesture she felt uneasy with it.

“Now then,” said Penny. “I’ve been giving some more thought to this murder of yours and wondered if you’ve been able to exclude the father.

“It seems to me that he might have had a financial motive, but I can’t help thinking there’s something else going on here. Something we don’t know about yet. Something really big and nasty.”

“I think so, too,” said Davies as their salmon arrived.

“But you’re right—we’ve pretty much eliminated the father. He was either with the mother or at the off-licence when she disappeared. And frankly, I don’t think he had the resources or intelligence to pull off something like this. We’re focusing on the people who were at the Hall but with the funeral coming up, we’ve got to be sensitive.”

They ate in silence for a few moments, and then Penny abruptly changed the subject.

“This salmon is delicious,” she said. “And such a beautiful colour. With the glaze, it’s almost red. How’s yours?”

“Excellent,” said Davies. “And speaking of red. Can you think why a curved piece of red plastic about this long,” he held his thumb and forefinger about two inches apart, “would have been found in Meg Wynne’s hair?”

“Well, I think we can safely say it wasn’t a hair slide. She wouldn’t wear anything so tacky, I’m sure of that.”

“No,” said Davies. “It was a jagged piece of plastic, came off something else. Can’t think for the life of me what it could have been.”

Penny looked at him intently.

“Was it from the murder weapon, do you think?”

“Could have been,” Davies said carefully. “There was blood