Jigsaw (19 page)

She'd been pleased when she thought she recognized Rona, even wondering if she could spare the time for lunch. Her sister was amazingly like her; not quite as tall, perhaps, and her hair was longer – well below her shoulders. But the main difference lay in their personalities. She had exchanged only a few words with Lindsey, but the empathy that had been instantaneous with Rona was lacking. A nice enough young woman, no doubt, but she hadn't Rona's warmth.

With a small, suppressed sigh, Catherine went to her solitary lunch.

Since she had no way of knowing if or when the police would return her transcript, Rona decided to take the precaution of having it photocopied before parting with it, and was relieved to come across a shop offering the service. She purchased a large envelope, slipped the original inside with a brief note, and addressed it to DI Barrett.

Then, following directions, she walked alongside the mall until she saw the squat building of the police station on the opposite side of the road. In front of it was a forecourt with a somewhat desultory fountain playing in the centre and several parked panda cars. Rona went through the swing doors into the foyer, keeping a weather eye open for Barrett. To her relief, there was no sign of him. She handed the packet to the sergeant at the desk, and thankfully made her escape.

It was now twelve twenty, and time to track down Magda's boutique. She crossed the road again, and entered the mall by one of its side doors. Surprisingly enough, it was the first time she'd been inside the vast, glass-covered structure, and she could well understand the town's pride in it. She found herself in a short passage lined on both sides by open-fronted shops selling a variety of goods, from mobile phones and exotic flowers to baby-wear. The passage ended in a T-junction with the main concourse, and opposite her was an enormous, two-storeys-high fountain with lights playing on it, that put the police effort to shame. On either side of the fountain, vast stretches of marble flooring led away into the distance, lined with a bewildering array of stores and coffee bars, all filled with a moving, talking, laughing throng of shoppers. At intervals, escalators gave access to the upper floor, which was also heavily populated.

To Rona's relief, a stand at her side displayed leaflets showing the layout of the mall. She took one and ran her eye down it till she came to
Magdalena
, and, judging by the number of the store alongside her, guessed it must be some twenty yards down to her right.

In fact, she recognized it even before checking its name; all Magda's boutiques looked the same, and in this instance she'd achieved that effect even without a frontage. Rona would have expected nothing less.

A notice on a stand just inside apologized to customers for the temporary paucity of choice following the break-in, though to Rona's eyes the rails seemed remarkably well stocked. No doubt Magda had arrived that morning with a fresh input, plundered from her other outlets. The interior stretched back quite a way, and at the far end Rona could see the layout of the new café.

She threaded her way towards it between browsing customers, and at once caught sight of Magda at a corner table. She had started towards her when a girl at the entrance smilingly barred her way, asking if she'd booked a table. Must be doing well already, Rona thought, and certainly all the tables seemed occupied.

‘I'm meeting Magda,' she explained. ‘Don't worry – I can see her.'

The girl checked a list. ‘Ms Parish?'

‘That's right.'

‘If you'd like to go in, then.'

It was only as she approached the table that Rona registered Magda was not alone; she was talking to a woman who had her back to Rona, a woman with auburn hair. As she drew level, Magda looked up and smiled, and her companion turned. It was Helena Maddox.

‘I'm so glad you could come,' Magda said, jumping up to kiss Rona. ‘I don't think you two have met: Helena Maddox – Rona Parish.'

‘I do hope you'll forgive my gate-crashing,' Helena said. ‘I came in on the spur of the moment, and as there was no free table, Magda kindly invited me to join you.' She spoke quickly, while her fingers continued to crumble a roll on her side plate.

‘I'm delighted to meet you,' Rona replied, taking a seat. It was true: Helena Maddox had interested her from the first, and she was looking equally elegant today, in a short-sleeved suit in rust and cream silk – possibly from
Magdalena
.

‘I hear you're planning to write about Buckford for the celebrations?' Helena continued.

‘That's right; part of my research involved being shown round the college.'

‘So Magda was saying. What did you think of it?'

‘Very impressive. Do you live on the premises?'

‘Yes, we've a flat on the top floor. Where are you staying while you're here?'

‘With Nuala Banks, in Parsonage Place. It's ideal, since it's both comfortable and central.'

As they talked, Rona took stock of her. She was certainly attractive; her skin, unusually for a redhead, was tanned to a pale gold, and her almost navy-blue eyes were fringed with black lashes – doubtless mascara'd, but still stunning. Close to, though, there was a sense of strain about her, apparent in the nervous flicker of her eyes, the constant movement of her hands. Anyone who lived with Richard Maddox, Rona thought uncharitably, had a right to be stressed.

Magda passed the menu to Rona. ‘You're here to work, remember! What do you think of the selection?'

Rona quickly read it through. ‘Very innovative. Normally I'd have been spoilt for choice, but I'm afraid I shan't want much today; it's only a couple of hours since I had breakfast.'

Magda looked at her in disbelief. ‘Well, a lot of help you're turning out to be! What were you thinking of, having a late breakfast when we'd arranged lunch?'

She shouldn't have volunteered that information, Rona realized. She'd no wish to discuss Edna's death in front of a virtual stranger.

‘I only had a slice of toast,' she prevaricated.

‘But why so late?' She should have known Magda wouldn't let it rest.

‘We had a disturbed night.' Rona paused, but had no alterative but to continue. ‘It was all very upsetting, actually; Nuala's elderly aunt was found dead in the street.'

Both her companions exclaimed at once.

Helena, her face filled with sudden horror, cried, ‘Not Miss Rosebury?'

And Magda: ‘The old lady you interviewed?'

Rona nodded in reply to both. ‘Nuala had to go to the mortuary to identify her, and I went along for company. Then we had to talk to the police.'

‘Why the police?' Magda demanded sharply.

‘They – thought she might have been attacked.'

‘But – God – that's terrible!' Helena this time. ‘What gave them that idea?'

‘There was no sign of her handbag. When Nuala said she never took one at night, they seemed to revise their opinion.'

‘Never . . .? She made a habit of going out after dark?'

‘Apparently she sometimes went for a walk.'

‘Dangerous, I'd have thought.'

Magda clapped a hand to her mouth. ‘God, Rona! The cassette! Do you think there's any connection?'

Rona, seeing Helena forming another question, said quickly, ‘No, I'm sure not. Look, I really don't want to go into it again, if you don't mind. I had enough of that last night.'

She was helped in her request by the need to give their orders, and opted for artichoke hearts in a special dressing. That settled, she turned back to Magda.

‘Were any other shops broken into? I'd have thought the mall would have security guards.'

‘It has,' Magda said gloomily, ‘but the thieves got in at the back, where we take deliveries. The guards only became aware of them as they were driving off – but don't get me started on that. Yes, they got away with some jewellery from next door, as well. That, not unnaturally, is what the police are concentrating on.'

Rona wondered fleetingly if DI Barrett was involved. Perhaps that was why he'd resented being distracted by Edna's case. ‘Well, I certainly wouldn't have known from the rails that you'd had a robbery,' she said rallyingly.

They started talking about the autumn collection, and Rona relaxed a little. To rectify her shortcomings, she ordered a dessert from the well-stocked trolley, and pronounced it excellent, as was the coffee that followed.

‘I'm glad you think so,' Magda said. ‘This is by way of an experiment. If it proves a success, I'm hoping to introduce cafés into some of the other shops. While I remember, Rona, Gavin was asking when you're coming to dinner. Are you free any evening next week?'

‘That would be nice, but it would have to be Friday or Saturday. Max has classes on Thursdays.'

Magda shook her head. ‘Friday and Saturday are both booked next week, and Gavin's away on a course the week after.' She hesitated. ‘Would Max mind if you came solo on Thursday?'

Rona smiled. ‘I shouldn't think so.' Magda and Gavin were more her friends than his.

‘It's a date, then.'

Rona and Helena left soon after, both insisting, despite Magda's protests, that they pay for their own lunches.

‘You'll never make a profit if you treat all your friends,' Rona told her.

‘We must meet again,' Helena said as they separated at the mall's entrance, ‘and if you'd like any more details about College, do let me know.'

Rona looked after her as she set off along the pavement, trying to sum up her impressions. Helena had seemed charming, intelligent, at times preoccupied, but there was an overall sense of vulnerability about her that Rona found oddly touching. Yes, she would like to meet her again.

She'd decided to devote the afternoon to more church-visiting, and was crossing the road towards the Church of the Holy Cross when her mobile rang. Safely on the pavement, she moved out of people's way and flicked it open.

‘Rona Parish.'

‘Oh, Miss Parish!' Beth Spencer's voice, and she sounded close to tears.

‘Hello, Mrs Spencer.'

‘He won't see you,' Beth said in a rush. ‘I phoned him last night and argued till I was blue in the face, but he wouldn't give way. I
told
him it might be his last chance, but he just wasn't interested.'

Despite her earlier misgivings, Rona was aware of disappointment. ‘That seems to be that, then.'

‘I shan't give up!' Beth assured her. ‘I'll keep on at him till he changes his mind.'

‘I really don't think that would do any good,' Rona put in gently. ‘It's no use my seeing him under duress, he has to want to.'

‘When he's had time to think about it, he'll change his mind. I was trying to rush him, so we could fit it in this week, but the more I pressed, the more he dug his heels in. Now it'll have to be next week at the earliest.'

‘Well, I'll be here then and the week after,' Rona soothed her. ‘But as I said all along, I doubt I can do much good.'

Beth rang off, still convinced of eventual success, and Rona walked out of the bright sunshine into the candlelit gloom of the Catholic church.

It wasn't until she was setting off for home the following afternoon that she saw the note, again wedged behind the windscreen wipers, and her heart seemed to stop. With shaking fingers she extracted it and smoothed it open.

Why don't you go home and stop poking your nose into what doesn't concern you? You're not wanted here.

It seemed that, his scare tactics not having worked, her anonymous persecutor was increasing the pressure. Rona glanced at the house behind her, wondering whether to go back and tell Nuala of the latest development. She'd been in trouble for keeping quiet before. But this was a more personal attack, and nothing further could harm Edna Rosebury. She decided to compromise: she'd tell Nuala when she came back on Monday. About one thing, however, she was in no doubt. She would not tell Max.

M
ax said, ‘What bad luck, to be caught up in it.'

‘The fact that I'd met her made it worse,' Rona admitted, sipping a much-needed vodka. She'd told Max briefly of Edna's death when he'd phoned the previous evening, and had just finished a more detailed account, though the omission of any reference to the missing cassette or the two notes screamed in her head.

‘She sounds a dotty old bird, to go wandering the streets at night.'

Rona rushed to Edna's defence. ‘Why? She'd lived in the town all her life, and everyone knew her. If she couldn't sleep, why shouldn't she go for a walk?'

Max raised both hands in mock submission. ‘All right, all right. But weren't you saying there have been several muggings recently?'

‘Yes, but she wasn't mugged,' Rona said stubbornly.

‘Then she was lucky.'

‘You sound like that odious policeman.'

‘Thanks!'

They glared at each other, then both smiled shamefacedly. Rona said more calmly, ‘Anyway, since she died of a heart attack, it could just as easily have happened at home.'

‘Except that you don't know what brought it on. Something or someone might have frightened her.'

Rona went cold. That was a point she'd not considered. Should she have done? Had Edna in fact been frightened to death? If so, there would have been nothing to show for it.

‘I wish you hadn't said that,' she told him.

Max shrugged, finishing his drink. ‘Since we'll never know, there's no point in losing sleep over it. She was old, and her time had come, that's all.'

‘So if she
was
frightened to death, it doesn't really matter?'

Max's mouth tightened. ‘You're twisting my words, and you know it.'

There was a short silence. They were in danger of quarrelling, and Rona, taking a deep breath, opted for safer ground. ‘As you say, what's done is done. So, what's been happening here this week?'