‘Thank you, we will.’ Alex scrutinized the lawyer whose eyes were hard to read—hazel with the watery look of an eighty-year-old.
Alex watched as he turned away and glanced out the window. ‘Edwina’s family … Not much luck in life, you know. The husbands …’ he shook his head. ‘First her mother and then Edwina. Honest, hardworking people, the two of them. We knew each other because we went to the same church but our families were very different, if you get my meaning. Hers … well, it was a bad business all round.’
‘Did she have a will?’
‘Yes.’
‘Anything unusual?’
‘Ah, the will …’
Alex heard the hesitancy in the man’s voice and held his breath hoping for something—anything.
‘There was a slight glitch with the will. We sorted it out for her. You see, Edwina’s husband left one day, same thing had happened to her mother. History repeating. Bad business,’ he muttered. ‘Just disappeared.’ He turned back to Alex and shook his head. ‘I decided to enact a divorce before we wrote the will. Bit of a damn nuisance, but the best precaution from a legal point of view. We didn’t want him reappearing and trying for a stake in her nest egg. You’d be amazed at what some people try. Even though he’d have had no legal basis, it could cause a great deal of anguish. We didn’t charge,’ he whispered. ‘Things have always
been tight for Edwina.’
‘Did you find any trace of the husband?’
‘He was living in the South Island with another woman. No children. Shocking thing to do to Edwina. Her children had left home by then, otherwise I’d have chased him for maintenance.’
‘The will?’
‘Everything was split between her two children, except a few items for Mrs O’Brien, in case Edwina should go first. Imagine. I remember thinking it was unnecessary, but …’
‘Anything valuable?’
‘Mementos, nothing else. Edwina didn’t own anything valuable. Apart from the house.’
Alex studied the old man—a bald head, glasses perched at an angle on the bridge of his nose, a round dumpling face. It was hard to imagine him as someone who’d defrauded Edwina, yet someone had killed her when she least expected it. Most likely someone she’d known and trusted.
Alex thanked him and took a copy of the file. He knew he’d been rude, sounded ungrateful, but Jerry’s joke about the incestuous nature of this case was beginning to rankle. They’d learnt from past experience it didn’t pay to ignore Jerry’s instincts. He pulled out his phone and rang the forensic accountants. He wanted every financial transaction pulled apart. Laid bare. The St Joseph’s network, the lawyer, the real estate agent, even the bank. All of it stank.
* ‘Rose Jones?’
‘Yes?’
Alex did his best to control his surprise and hoped Marion did too. The woman who opened the front door of the smart white weatherboard wasn’t at all what he had expected. Short, slim, with not an ounce of fat. Her dark hair drawn back in a ponytail. She wore jeans and a white T-shirt, looked about twenty years old. It seemed impossible this was the person Mrs O’Brien had spoken of with such venom. He heard Marion stumble as she identified Alex and herself and asked if they could come in and talk.
‘My children?’ Rose stood there shaking. Her hand in front of her mouth. That brought Alex back to earth.
‘No. I’m sorry if we alarmed you.’ Marion’s voice was quiet, steady. ‘We wanted to talk to you about Edwina.’
‘Edwina? Edwina Biggs? Why? What’s happened?’
‘Ah,’ said Marion. ‘May we come in?’
‘Tell me.’ Rose’s voice was shrill.
Marion glanced at Alex. He nodded.
‘I’m sorry to have to tell you, but Edwina died yesterday,’ Marion said. Alex was watching Rose closely. Part of his double act with Marion. He saw the colour drain out of her face.
‘Died?’
‘Yes, I’m sorry.’
‘No. Not possible.’ Rose’s hand trembled as she pushed a strand of hair away from her face. ‘I saw her a few days ago. I’m having lunch with her tomorrow.’ She stumbled backwards.
Alex stepped past Marion and grabbed hold of Rose’s arm, led her back from the door into the lounge, guided her towards an armchair and let her fall into the overstuffed cushions.
She sat for a few minutes her breathing rough and ragged.
‘Was it the car? I knew she shouldn’t drive a car.’ Her voice was shaking.
‘Mind if we sit down?’ asked Marion.
Rose nodded. ‘She was a terrible driver. It’s too hard to learn when you’re older.’ She clasped and unclasped her hands. ‘It’s awful. Appalling. Just when things had started to go well
for her.’
Marion glanced at Alex again. He nodded. ‘Ms Jones,’ she said, ‘I’m afraid we have something distressing to tell you.’
Rose stiffened. Her face ashen, confused.
Marion hesitated, then plunged on. ‘It appears Edwina was murdered at about one o’clock on Sunday morning. She was found dead in Pierce’s Park. In her car.’
Rose stared at Marion, eyes huge. Shook her head. Faster and faster. ‘No way. It couldn’t possibly have been Edwina. She wouldn’t know how to drive to Pierce’s Park, and at night? After work? No. Impossible.’
* Alex found himself behind Rose’s kitchen bench - a smart white stone affair. He made a pot of Lady Grey tea while Marion tried to convince Rose that Edwina was dead. It took a while. Even after the tea had been made and drunk, Rose continued to be sceptical. She laid out the reasons why it could not be so in a careful measured tone. One by one she ticked them off on her fingers, bullet points of denial.
Edwina would never be able to find her way to Pierce’s Park.
Edwina would never drive at night in an unknown part of the city.
Edwina never went anywhere on her own she had not been to before.
The thought of Edwina going off with a man was laughable.
‘Nevertheless,’ Marion pointed out gently, ‘Edwina was found dead in the park.’
That’s when Rose started to shake. She looked as if she was about to faint. ‘Sorry.
