A Match Made for Murder Iona Whishaw (pride and prejudice read .TXT) 📖

“Eye colour?”

“Honestly, I couldn’t tell you. Dark green, brown. Not notably blue or anything.”

“Thank you. If you could give your sales slips a quick look and give me a call at the station, that would be helpful, thank you. Ask for Constable Terrell.”

“By the way, Constable, I can save you some trouble on that other purchase. It came from Grace’s down the end of the street, near the gas station, and it was bought the same day because the lady had a bag from there.”

Terrell smiled and tipped his hat as he left the shop, looking with a sigh at the two cold, wet blocks he’d have to traverse to get to the store.

“What are you looking for, Sergeant? I thought there were rats in here,” Sergeant O’Brien said, looking into the file room.

Ames was seated in front of a three-drawer filing cabinet. The records room was windowless and dusty. Sneezing explosively, Ames said, “I’m looking for what I’m pretty sure isn’t here: a file containing information about a young woman, a girl really, who might have come here to report an assault in probably late June of ’35.”

“Why shouldn’t it be there? We’ve always kept pretty good records.”

“Because it’s likely the girl was sent away with some harsh words from the officer she talked to. You know, blaming her for it, refusing to take it seriously.”

O’Brien, not one for standing, settled his bulk with a “humph” into a chair in front of the small table, which was the only other furniture in the room. “I can’t see that, can you? How young was she?”

“Sixteen.”

“Well, there you are then. A sixteen-year-old would have come in with a parent, and no parent would put up with the daughter being dismissed like that.”

Ames pulled another file folder out, opened it, scanned the pages, and tossed it back in, then turned to O’Brien. “That’s the thing, she didn’t come in with a parent. She didn’t want her parents to know. Were you here in ’35?”

“I was. The inspector wasn’t here yet. He came in ’36. Was it an old guy, do you know? Higgs retired that year. If it was him, I can see it. He was a tad old-fashioned, and didn’t much like keeping records, especially toward the end. And Sergeant Galloway was here then, but he left in ’37. Moved down south somewhere stateside because he didn’t like the cold. He was okay. A little full of himself but well liked. He used to play poker with a group of guys every week. Said that’s how he kept his ear to the ground. Took Darling under his wing.” He chuckled and pushed himself upright. “He did pretty well at cards, as I recall. Got a round at the bar out of him more than once. Anyway, I’ll give it a think, see if something comes to mind. Gotta get back to the desk. I suggest you come up for air soon. The dust in here will kill you. And I couldn’t swear to there being no rats here, either.”

O’Brien had just reached his desk when Terrell pushed the door open and removed his sodden hat, shaking it onto the doormat.

“Don’t you look like a drowned muskrat,” O’Brien commented, watching him peel off his rubber overshoes and gingerly hang his soaking raincoat on the coat rack.

“I feel like one. Is Sergeant Ames in?”

“He’s gone upstairs after spending a couple of happy hours in the file room getting dust up his nose. Police work, eh?”

Terrell smiled wanly and went up in search of Ames. He already knew that Ames wasn’t going to like hearing what he’d learned from the dress-shop expedition.

“Oh, my God,” Darling said, pushing his hand through his hair. “Can I not leave you alone for a minute?” He was again prey to very mixed feelings. On the one hand, he felt unabashed admiration for his wife’s unwavering sense of justice, and on the other, anxiety about what it would all mean.

“Darling, if you had seen her, you would not have hesitated. And after all, she asked for my help. And Chela helped me get hold of her brother. He used his own car so that the taxi couldn’t be traced, and he had a day off coming anyway. He was magnificent and wouldn’t take a cent.”

“Of course, you were right. Of course, you were. I just wish you’d told me ahead of time. I can just see my whole married life unfolding before me, with you bashing off to rescue the halt and the lame, leaving me in the dark.”

“I so nearly did tell you, but at the time I worried that you would be in the position of knowing and having to lie to Galloway. I don’t think you are all that comfortable with lying.”

“What worries me is that you are,” Darling said, taking her hand and looking at it despondently. He thought about her wartime career in intelligence. Surely a good deal of lying would have been required.

But Lane took both his hands and looked at him earnestly. “I am not. I have never lied to you about anything. And I never will. I thought you knew that.” She dropped his hands and looked away toward the children who had come out of the pool and were being rubbed down, shivering and laughing. She was immediately sorry she’d said it. It was too big, and it wasn’t fair because while she hadn’t lied, she’d kept him out. “I’m sorry. That was unfair. I did keep you out of it. I can see that it’s almost a form of lying.”

“That makes two of us. I’m sorry as well. I don’t imagine for a minute that you’d be comfortable lying, but I will admit, I don’t like being . . . maybe not trusted is a better way to look at it. I can even confess that in looking back on my conversation with Galloway, I am glad I didn’t