Cut You Dead (Dr. Samantha Willerby Mystery #4) - A J Waines Page 0,93
Charlie did. Such a shame. Wasn’t long after that she got… she was… you know.’ Mrs Pitlock’s gaze fell sombrely to her bare feet, then she straightened up. ‘Would you like to see some pictures of Chris as a kid?’
It was the last thing I wanted, but it seemed impolite to decline. She was in her element. With a son who didn’t talk to her much, a husband at the betting shop on his day off, and with no real friends to leave behind if she moved abroad, she struck me as a lonely soul.
She drew the album onto her lap and flicked through the pages so fast I couldn’t see any of them properly. All I noticed was that several pages had white spaces, as though various snaps had been removed. As she reached the page she was looking for, a loose picture flew out. I picked it up from the carpet.
‘Oh, that’s Roy, Chris’s dad. He’s not with us anymore.’
I made a warm consoling sound. ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’
‘Don’t be. Long time ago. I’ve got Arthur now…’ She tailed off.
In spite of her words, she gazed longingly at the photograph. ‘You know, this is the best picture I have of him.’ She flipped it over and I caught the date in pencil on the back. ‘He’d finally had his hair cut properly. He used to snip it himself in front of the bathroom mirror. Men do that, don’t they? Make a pig’s ear of it. Not that day though. He was sitting smug as pie in the kitchen with a smart trim when I came home.’
She found a space on the correct page and slid the picture under the transparent plastic film.
She closed the album, seemingly forgetting why she’d opened it. ‘Chris will be back any minute,’ she said brightly. ‘Looks like you’ll get to meet him after all.’
I took a horrified glance at the door and shot up, grabbing my coat. That was my cue to get out of there. And fast.
‘I’m very sorry,’ I said, making a point of checking my watch. ‘I really must be going.’
69
I was in a daze as I made my way back home. I could see pictures from the album flashing before my eyes; Mrs Pitlock’s words coming and going in my ears, as I attempted to process what she’d told me.
Were there any crucial clues embedded in our encounter that put Chris in the frame as the serial killer? He’d liked Hazel and his father used to cut his own hair – that’s all I could hold onto. Was I trying to make him fit so I had something concrete to show Claussen?
I stomped up the stairs to my flat, banging my fists on the banister. It was like trying to get two live ends of a wire circuit to touch each other when they were simply too short.
Miranda rang just as I reached my door.
‘You okay?’ I asked, letting myself in. It was always my default response whenever she called me.
‘I’m fine,’ she snapped. ‘Don’t always sound so worried. I can look after myself, you know.’
‘Sorry.’ I dropped my keys on the ledge in the hall and peeled off my coat with one hand.
‘It’s Emily I’m ringing about. Have you seen her?’
‘We went for a run last night.’
‘I’m a bit worried about her. Did she tell you why she went home early the night of the ceremony?’
‘Yes, she did.’ I strolled into the kitchen, dying for a cup of tea.
Miranda went on. ‘Something about her best friend? How she died falling down a flight of marble stairs?’
‘Yes, that’s what she told me.’
‘She was in tears about it at CCAP. She said it was because her friend’s shoes were too high. She kept going on about it. The shoes, the shoes. Sounded awful. I think she’s seriously traumatised even though it was years ago. She hasn’t been back in since.’
‘Really?’ I leant against the draining board, staring longingly at the empty kettle. ‘She said she had plans for the weekend; she didn’t sound like she was in a terrible state.’
‘She was supposed to teach a self-defence class yesterday and she didn’t show up. If you’re running again, I just thought you could see if there’s anything we can do. Let her know she can talk to us. She’s been such a help at the project. I hope she’s going to come back.’
‘We’ve arranged to run on Monday, so I’ll let her know,’ I reassured her.