Angel of Death

Sean sat down, but fidgeted restlessly. ‘I’ve a lot to do today. Can we get on? You keep asking stupid questions day after day.’ He gave Neil a sullen stare, his face mutinous. ‘I have better things to do with my time.’

‘Do you know a girl called Tracy Morgan?’

The question knocked Sean backwards. He opened and shut his mouth like a fish out of water, making wordless noises.

Terry froze in his chair, watching his son anxiously.

Sean swallowed, finally said hoarsely, ‘Tracy? Yes, I know her. I’ve met her, that is. I don’t know her well.’

‘I’ve been told you have been dating her for weeks.’

‘Who told you that? Miranda Grey, I suppose! They ought to move her into a psychiatric ward. They shouldn’t ever let her out.’

‘They will, she’s quite sane.’

‘They’re letting her go home? When?’

‘Never mind Miranda. It was not her who told me about you dating Tracy Morgan. That’s true, isn’t it? You have been seeing her quite often for several months.’

‘No! It’s a lie, a dirty lie.’ Sean was almost desperate with fury, his face darkly flushed, his eyes glittering.

He hesitated, muttered, ‘Well, maybe I took her out once or twice, that’s all. I don’t call that dating.’

‘You saw her more often than that, I think. And now she’s vanished. She went missing the day Mrs Grey says she witnessed a scene in the bathroom of your flat. A big coincidence, isn’t it?’

Sean blundered to his feet, glaring like an angry bull. ‘You can’t prove I did anything! You can’t prove she’s dead. Stop badgering me or I’ll get my solicitor to deal with you.’

‘I think you are going to need your solicitor, sir, when we find the body.’

‘Find it before you come here again, harassing me!’

Dorothy Knox stopped off en route to the flat to buy herself a few groceries. Heaven knew what sort of larder Miranda kept. Dorothy did not have a very high opinion of her daughter’s housekeeping. Oh, the flat would be tidy enough, no doubt, Miranda was fastidious about where she lived, but she wou

ld eat her lunch out every day when she was working, and probably ate a very small breakfast, some cereal, at most, and in the evenings would eat out of the fridge, snacking on microwave food the way young people did these days.

She did not look well, and that wasn’t simply because of her injuries. Dorothy had noticed a deep-seated malaise in her daughter’s eyes. But the misery had been there for a long time, ever since Tom died.

They had been so happy together. Dorothy had rarely seen a couple who were so perfectly suited. His death had blighted Miranda’s life. She had always been a very affectionate child. She was not one of those cool, self-contained people who do not appear to need people. Miranda was open and loving with her family and friends.

On her wedding day she had been a radiant bride; her happiness visible, even in the photos Dorothy kept on her mantelpiece at home. It had been a wonderful occasion; everyone who had been there had been uplifted by seeing such a joyful bride and groom.

The tragedy of losing Tom in such a terrifying way had shadowed the child’s life ever since, though. Dorothy sensed that her daughter had not recovered even now.

She needed to spend some time somewhere very quiet and peaceful, especially now, after this accident. Dorothy was determined to take her back to the country; force-feed her, if necessary, see that she went to bed early, make her take walks in God’s good air, spend time in the garden, let nature work its miracle. She believed in nature’s power to heal.

In her capacious shopping bag, Dorthy had packed some of her own produce; a box of freshly laid eggs, a bag of mixed, washed vegetables; tomatoes, courgettes, onions, cauliflower, potatoes. Another bag of fruit; gooseberries, raspberries. But she would need other items; staples like rice, spaghetti, salt and pepper, flour and olive oil.

She was heavily laden by the time she put the key into the front door of Miranda’s flat. Putting down her bags she pushed the door shut behind her then groped for the light switch.

Stupid woman, you should have put that on first, she thought. Now, where is it? While she was feeling along the wall with one hand, she was taken aback by a sound, and then the faint rustle of a movement.

She realised with a gulp of shock that there was somebody else in here, in the dark, with her. Somebody trying to breathe quietly.

‘Who’s that?’ she cried, trying to see in the shadows, but only glimpsing a solid bulk in front of her.

It ran at her a second later. Dorothy shrank back with a gasp, but could not get out of the way. Blows began to shower on to her head.

Chapter Four