The Cold Light of Mourning - By Elizabeth J. Duncan Page 0,89
for Christmas.
When he saw that her favourite magnolia-scented candles had been set out, waiting to be lit, he couldn’t believe his luck.
“I’ll just go and fetch my lighter, darling,” he said in a husky voice. “Won’t be a tick.”
“That woman is lying to protect the killer,” said Penny over her shoulder as she rinsed the wineglasses. “What do you think? Do you think it was David Williams?”
Victoria nodded.
“But we have no proof,” Penny continued, turning back to the sink. “And we definitely need to find out why. Why would he kill her? Why would he attack you?” She shut off the taps and turning around as she dried her hands, was startled to see Victoria looking drawn and pale. She walked over and rested her hand on her shoulder.
“I can’t think anymore tonight, Pen,” Victoria said, gazing up at her friend. “I’m too tired and this is doing my head in.”
“Mine, too,” Penny agreed. “But there’s something in that book that I can’t quite put my finger on, but it’s the key to this whole thing and if we …”
Her voice trailed off as Victoria slumped over the table with her head resting on her arms.
“Gosh, you are all in. And here’s me going on and on. I’m so sorry. It’s all caught up with you. Let’s get you to bed.”
Penny tried to read her library book for about half an hour, and then, too distracted to continue, took off her reading glasses and set them on the nightstand. She closed her eyes and began to drift downward into sleep but just as she was about to cross the threshold into unconsciousness, was jerked awake.
That’s it! she thought. That wasn’t what she meant. It was like the flowers on the Queen Mother’s hat from the jigsaw puzzle that she and Emma had done so long ago. You think it’s one thing, but when you see it in context, it’s something else.
The book thudded to the floor as she threw back the covers and got out of bed. Not stopping to find her slippers, she padded quickly along to Victoria’s room. She could hear soft, gentle breathing as she approached the bed and as her eyes adjusted to the darkness she could see that Victoria was lying on her side, facing away from her.
“Victoria!” she said softly, touching her shoulder. “Are you awake?”
“Ohh, I am now,” Victoria said sleepily as she rolled over to face Penny. “What is it? What’s so important?” she moaned. “Can’t it wait?”
“It probably could have, and God, I’m so sorry, Victoria. I should have thought but something’s just come to me. It’s what you said when we found you after you were attacked. I thought you said you were going to die, but thinking about it now, that seems strange. I don’t think someone who’d been attacked would say they were going to die; I think it would be more likely for them to ask if they were going to die.”
She sat on the edge of the bed as Victoria shifted over to make room.
“Wait,” whispered Victoria. “Don’t say anything for a moment.”
She reached over and turned on the bedside light. As its warm light cast a soft glow over the bed, she placed her pale green pillows against the wall and sat up against them.
Penny got up off the bed to allow Victoria to pull the duvet up over her chest.
“Okay,” said Victoria as she tucked her arms under the covers. “I’m ready. Let’s hear it.”
“I think someone would ask if they were going to die,” repeated Penny as she sat down on the edge of the bed. “But you didn’t say it as a question; you said it as a statement. And I’ve just realized, what you said was ‘Dai’—you know, the nickname for Dafydd. But of course it’s pronounced ‘die’.”
Victoria let out a small gasp.
“That’s what was in Emma’s book … he’s not David Williams—that’s his big, fancy London persona. He’s Dafydd Williams. That was his name back then and you knew him as Dai. Victoria, I think when we found you, you told me the name of the person who attacked you. And then you blacked out, and lost all memory of what happened.”
As the pain and fear of the past few days welled up inside her, and the tears finally came, Victoria pulled up her knees and sobbed.
“Don’t you worry,” Penny said, jumping up to comfort her. “We’ll get the bastard. I’ll call Gareth first thing in the morning.”