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

the porch and pulled the door closed behind her. ‘I’d like to have a quick word with you,’ her voice dropped to a whisper, ‘before you see Rose.’

‘How is she holding up?’

‘Not bad. In shock, I think. And in pain. We’ve got Sam back from his holiday, he’s here with her at night. I sent him out for the day. Poor kid. We haven’t told Katie, yet. Long way from home … and,’ she straightened her back, pulled herself up to her full height, ‘Rose was very worried when she didn’t hear from you. You seemed to disappear.’

He nodded. ‘I … it wasn’t …’ He stopped. What could he say?

Catherine put up her hands. ‘Not to me. It’s Rose who needs to know.’

‘Yes.’

‘Anyway, Juliana and I are taking turns being here during the day. Right,’ she said briskly, ‘I’ll leave you to it. I know you’ve got a lot to talk about, but could you let me know when you go? Don’t want to leave Rose on her own. Not yet.’

‘No,’ was all Alex could say. ‘Not yet. Thank you, Catherine.’

She nodded and walked across the street. He was thankful she hadn’t torn into him, asked, Why in the world haven’t you called? You’ve been out of hospital two days and nothing?

‘Come on, Dog.’ He pushed open the door, ‘Let’s do it.’

‘Rose,’ he called. ‘It’s me, Alex.’

She was by the window. Someone had pulled the sofa into the sunshine to catch the morning rays. He could see a rainbow refracting through the old hand-made windowpanes, the colours spilling onto the white bench top in the kitchen.

Rose turned as he came in. ‘Alex. You’ve come.’

‘Yes,’ was all he could say. ‘I’ve got Dog with me. Will the cat mind?’

‘The cat? Poor Dog, more likely.’

He walked over to her. A huge bruise on her face, another on her arm. Purple, black and yellow. A couple of stiches on her hand. One eye swollen. He hated to think what the rest of her body

was like.

‘How are you, Alex?’

He nodded. ‘I’m okay. Hurts to breathe.’

‘Where the hell have you been?’ she burst out. ‘Where did you get to? Not a word out of you.’ She shook her head, tears in her eyes. ‘Damn! I wasn’t going to be like this. I was going to be cool. But I’m not.’

‘Rose, please.’ He sat down next to her. Wished it was that simple, to sit in the sun, feel the healing warmth on his skin. He leant over, took her hand, felt her pull back, angry, then relax.

‘Alex, what’s going on? Why didn’t you ring?’

‘Rose, I can’t, I’m not allowed …’ he said, and then thought, What the hell. She knows everything anyway. ‘There’s a gag on the story. On me. What happened? Some very official men escorted me from my hospital bed to a hotel. I’ve been incommunicado since then.’

‘Because he’s a judge?’ Her voice was bitter.

Alex nodded. ‘Because he’s a judge.’

She slumped, rested her head on his shoulder. His good side. It was the other side which ached from three busted ribs, muscle damage and God knows what else.

‘Tell me, Alex.’ She was whispering, as if to mention the man’s crimes out loud made them too real. ‘The things I thought I heard Jerry say. His mother-in-law, his father-in law. His own mother. I thought she died from the flu. Did I hear it wrong or did he really do those things?’

‘He did.’ Alex wanted to leave it there, forget about the judge. But she deserved to know. It was her life which had almost been lost. ‘He’s owned up to Edwina, his mother and his father-in-law, and another one. A law clerk we had no idea about. Supposedly fell off a balcony. Drunk. I don’t know. Haven’t checked it out. I’ll leave it to others.’

‘But to kill his own mother? Why?’ Her voice had dropped even lower.

‘I wish I knew, Rose. He’s a maniac. The things he’s saying. He has the devil inside him.’ Alex shook his head. ‘His mother was murdered to put her out of her misery. She was so sad after Trudi died. He rationalised it as an almost loving act. He helped her to find peace. An act of kindness.’

Alex shuddered, remembering the hush that had fallen over everyone who was listening. Not so much because of what the judge was saying but because of the sincerity in his voice. The voice of someone who believed the lie.

‘And his father-in-law?’

‘Ah yes, the father-in-law. Easier to understand. His motive, anyway. According to him the father-in-law deserved to die. He was a bully and he was making his family’s life a misery. They were better off without him. Simple in his mind.’ Alex shuddered again. He couldn’t help it. He wished he hadn’t heard the judge’s account of the murder. The relish with which the man had recounted his father-in-law’s death. How he’d held Percy’s head under the water until he’d stopped struggling. The unexpected difficulty of dragging a dead body back to shore. The pleasure when he received a medal for bravery. His delight when, a few weeks later, the very beer bottle the father-in-law had been holding as the boat flipped, washed up on the lakeshore. Alex wished he hadn’t witnessed the evil inside the man.

‘But not his mother-in-law?’ Rose persisted. ‘He didn’t kill her?’

‘Oh yes, we’re sure he did. But he won’t admit to it. The psychiatrists who are working with him say he liked her, thought she was a nice woman who was always kind to him.’

‘Then ... ?’

‘According to them,’ Alex continued, ‘when the old lady moved in, he would have hated it. He liked order and control over his surroundings and the people in his life. The mother-in-law would have disturbed the balance of the household, taken away his control. So she had to go. Somewhere deep inside him, he knew it was wrong. Something along those lines. A moral dilemma.’

Rose frowned, confusion on her face.

‘I know.’ Alex took a slow deep