Shadow Over Edmund Street by Suzanne Frankham (read a book .TXT) 📕

on Marion’s shoulder, steered her into the nearest cafe, sat her down and ordered two espressos.

‘I don’t believe this, Alex,’ she hissed. ‘One minute we find a very minor coincidence, the sort we might not have noticed except we had no other leads, not a single thing, and the next moment we’re talking serial killer. Like in some TV show. This is too much. And what was that about a newspaper story and another accident? Oh God, what else is in the file?’

Alex sat hugging the file Mrs Harkness had given him. Waited until the coffee arrived, until he’d taken a scalding hot sip. A welcome proof of life.

‘From what I just heard, Mar, we’ve got two versions of the same story. Bullying, opportunistic murderer who has got away with it his whole life, or crazy obsessed doctor who had it in for a poor grieving son? Which do you think?’

Marion shrugged her shoulders. Drank a mouthful of coffee.

‘If we do nothing,’ Alex said, ‘we’ll be following in the doctor’s footsteps. We had our suspicions but we let them pass by without doing a thing. We might live to regret it too. There might be more deaths. You saw for yourself. Mrs Harkness seemed a very sensible woman. Not prone to conspiracy theories.’

‘Yes, Alex, but what exactly are we meant to do? Tell me. What are we meant to do?’

‘Keep going, slow and steady, Marion. What else can

we do?’

* ‘Fuck! I don’t believe you! You’re making this up. You’re winding me up.’ Jerry spat out the words.

‘Must you swear all the time?’

‘Stop it, Mar. Not now. Is this true?’

‘Yes, it’s true.’

Alex was sitting at his desk, staring at the concrete high-rise next door. The file lay on the desk.

‘Shit. So, I was right then.’ Jerry was pacing. The office too small for him. His large body, his long legs. ‘There are bodies in the backyard then.’

‘Not physically, but if what Mrs Harkness says is true, then yes, there are bodies.’

Jerry swung towards Marion. ‘What do you think? About this woman. Is she another Mrs O’Brien or what?’

‘She’s nothing like Mrs O’Brien. This woman is rock solid. Couldn’t imagine a better witness. But remember, she’s telling us what her husband believed, and he’s dead.’

‘What are we going to do, Boss?’

‘Marion has reservations, but we’re going with it. ‘

Jerry turned to Marion. Grinned. ‘Faith, Marion. Faith. You know what I’m best at? Computers and records. I’ll spend some time checking him out, then it will be clearer.’

‘Straight away,’ said Alex. ‘Everything about him. Wife, family, friends, work. Everything. In the meantime, I’ll read the file. But Jerry, we have to be very circumspect. Just the three of us. Can you be discreet enough?’

‘Me?’ He pulled an imaginary zipper across his mouth. ‘In the meantime, there won’t be anything we don’t know about the fucking bastard by the time I’ve finished.’

‘Language, Jerry, language,’ said Marion.

He grinned. ‘Sorry, Mar. I’ll try to remember. But hey, it will be worth it if we nail the fucking bastard, eh.’

* ‘Rose? Did I wake you?’

It was late. Eleven at night. ‘Juliana?’

‘Sorry for calling at this hour, but I couldn’t wait. I’ve had a brilliant idea. The best.’

Rose was cautious. She was beginning to understand Juliana’s dramatic nature. ‘Okay. Let me hear it.’

‘Why don’t we go to one of his trials? Judge Nyss’s trials.’ She giggled. ‘There’s nothing to stop us. We can go for one session. Check him out. What do you think?’

Rose heard herself spluttering. ‘You can’t just walk into a trial. What a crazy idea.’

‘No, it isn’t. Courts are open to the public. I’m afraid to say I know a bit more than I should about how the court system works, thanks to one of my nephews who decided to—well, never mind. Anyway, most times the public can rock up. I checked it out on the web last night. Let’s go tomorrow afternoon. There’s a big case on. Drugs and guns. There’ll be lots of people there. No one will notice us in the crowd.’

‘Well, I …’

‘Are you working tomorrow?’ Juliana broke in.

‘No.’

‘Then let’s go. Meet you at Jack’s at eleven-thirty. We’ll have a quick bite to eat and go to the afternoon session. Don’t have to stay long. Won’t it be fun? To see him now. I really want to do this.’

Rose surprised herself and agreed. Felt Juliana was the type of person who might get her into trouble. She smiled. At her age and stage in life, trouble might be a good thing but crashing a court trial to sneak a look at a judge? One who might be a murderer? Crazy.

—

PART 3 Love, Lies and Deception

— Judge Edward Albert Nyss loved routines. Routines had been his saviour throughout his life. He had clung to them through the tough times, when he could shut his mind to the ugliness around him and focus on the simple routines of the day, one at a time until he reached his goal. Now, by any measure, he had arrived, a respected member of his profession—a judge no less—yet his love of routines remained.

Every morning he was up at six to exercise. As a young man, he ran—long fast strides, which burnt up the anger and frustration of his life, leaving him drenched in sweat but filled with energy and drive. Later in life his pace slowed to a steady jog. Nowadays he took his beloved Westie around the block but still set himself challenges. A brisk walk down the hill to warm up, a run around the park twice while his dog watched from under a tree, then, gathering up the dog, he finished with a run up the old stone steps. They brought him out three houses away from his own. Running up, holding the dog, was no picnic, but his knees accepted the punishment like those of a younger man, and he gloried in the muscle burn. His heart pumped strong and steady. His morning routine, including a five-minute cool down, took him close