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

him a bit of trouble. He couldn’t cope. There were a couple of years where he seemed to have recovered, had a steady job, married and then the first baby was born. Edward. It was all downhill from there. The mother, trying her hardest. Not easy to read. A lot of pain, a lot of anguish.’ He took a sip of wine, turned it into a mouthful, looked at the empty glass, leant over and filled it up.

‘Okay,’ said Jerry, ‘perhaps we can skip the detail, but what about Trudi’s death and the mother’s death? Was there any evidence? It’s evidence we need, Alex.’

‘I know, Jerry. You don’t have to tell me. The doctor didn’t give us any. Read it for yourself. What he gave us was what we’ve got; suspicions, lots of them. Actually, I’ll amend that. His notes give us an excellent psychological assessment of Edward Nyss. He gave us the why, but not the how.’

‘What about the other doctor, the South African one, the locum? Have we been able to find him?’ Jerry asked.

‘No,’ said Marion. ‘He’s not practising in this country anymore. Left in the late seventies, returned to South Africa or so people say, but can’t locate him there. We’re trying.’

‘I don’t think the locum is going to add much,’ said Alex. ‘Another person’s opinion. If he says Dr Harkness was obsessed, was crazy, and it was the flu that killed the mother, are we going to drop the case?’ He snorted. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘So, nothing?’ Marion’s voice was quiet.

‘I didn’t say that.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Nothing we can use. However, he did point us in another direction.’ Alex put his wine glass on the table.

‘Don’t stop there, Alex. What are you saying?’ Marion’s voice was urgent. Jerry was silent.

‘This whole thing, it’s drifting away from us, into the realm of make-believe. What started Dr Harkness off reviewing the Nyss family saga was another more recent death. It was a story published in the paper about someone who’d fallen getting onto one of those stair lifts. Those chairs that attach to the banisters and ride up and down on a rail. Do you know what I mean?’

‘Yes.’

‘Right. Well according to the Doctor’s notes, he was thinking of installing one for himself to get to the basement in his house. He used it as a workshop and when he became sick, he was having trouble with one of his legs. He saw this article and it caught his eye. A woman hadn’t got onto the chair properly, had fallen down the stairs and died. He paid a bit more attention to the article than he might normally.’

‘And,’ said Marion. ‘Who was it?’

Jerry took another swig of beer. ‘I know.’ The others stared at him, saw the smug look on his face. ‘It was the mother-in-law, wasn’t it? Patricia Nyss’s mother.’

‘Explain,’ said Marion, glaring at Jerry. ‘What have you been up to?’

‘I’ve been deep in the records. Somewhere along the line, I decided to check the people around him. See what happened to them. After all, if we’re right, then he’d already knocked off his sister and his mother. It got me thinking about his extended family. Which is how I found it. The mother of his wife, Patricia, Mrs Mavis Horricks, eighty years old, died from a broken neck and multiple other injuries associated with a fall.’ He sat back with a grin on his face, staring at Marion. Her face ghostly.

Alex sat with his eyes wide, staring into the past. How easy it must have been to push an old lady down the stairs. He put his head in his hands, imagining the chaos if he reopened the case.

‘You missed one then, Jerry,’ Marion whispered.

Both men swung around. ‘What do you mean, Marion?’ There was no laughter in Jerry’s voice now.

‘If you were searching the records, you should have found out about the other one.’ The two men stared at each other.

Jerry nodded. ‘Indeed, I should, if there was anything to find. I confess, I stopped after the mother-in-law. What do you

know, Mar?’

‘I did a general search on Edward Albert Nyss. Turned up thousands of results because he’s a judge. But one of the stories caught my eye because he was awarded a bravery medal. In his younger days. Before he became a judge.’

‘Go on, Mar,’ Jerry said.

‘Patricia Horricks’s father.’

‘Father,’ Alex said. Almost a breath.

‘Yes. Our man was awarded a medal for trying to save the life of his father-in-law.’

Alex felt his stomach lurch, his skin turn icy. ‘How and why?’

Marion took a moment to compose herself. When she began to speak her voice was low. ‘The judge and his wife were staying at her parent’s holiday house near the lakes in Rotorua. The father-in-law took our judge out in his fishing boat. He was driving. Both women said he wouldn’t let anyone else near the controls of his boat. It was his new baby. The old man was in high spirits, playing the fool, had a few drinks with lunch. Quite odd I thought, the way the article was written, not very complimentary towards the judge. Both the women were quoted in the article, made me wonder what they thought of him. Anyway, the boat overturned in the middle of the lake. Neither man was wearing a life jacket. Our judge tried to tow the father-in-law back into the beach, a superhuman effort according to the witnesses. Kept him afloat long enough for another boat to pick him up. Quite a hero, the judge was, even though the old man didn’t make it.’

The room was quiet. Even the dog had stopped his noisy breathing, was watching them, his ears pricked.

‘Jesus Christ,’ said Jerry. ‘Get us another beer will you, Mar? This is going to be a fucking long night.’

* Alex cooked dinner on the barbeque, the lamb a study of pink perfection, the vegetables grilled alongside. Nobody noticed. They ate while they talked, sitting around the coffee table, going over the case time and