being here at Thistledown at such short notice? Where was Oliver? Questions bred more questions, swirling around in her head, each one more worrying than the one before. She found herself feeling glad she’d have company that night.
But that led to another question, which ought to have been settled before now. ‘Er … Mum? You and Fraser? Do you want to be in the same room? He seems a bit frail to be sleeping on a sofa. He can have my bed, if necessary, and I’ll be down here.’
Maureen Johnstone blinked confusedly. ‘I thought we settled that. Aren’t there three bedrooms?’
‘Not really. The bed in the third one is piled high with junk. The room’s full of photographic stuff and a computer and books. Why? Did Oliver tell you differently?’
‘He can’t have done. I just thought …’ Worry deepened grooves around her mouth. ‘No, I don’t want to share a room with him. Please, Thea – don’t make me do that.’
Before Thea could properly respond to an alarmingly urgent plea, the front door opened and Fraser came in, looking almost as stricken as his new friend did.
The women both stared at him, while he squared his shoulders and forced a smile.
‘What happened?’ demanded Thea’s mother. ‘Why do you look so distraught?’
‘Delayed shock, I think,’ he said ruefully. ‘It hit me, all of a sudden, that a lovely young woman, in the prime of her life, has been wickedly killed. All I could think before was that she was not my daughter. But now I understand that she was
somebody’s
daughter, somebody’s desperate tragedy.’
It sounded to Thea as if he’d been rehearsing the words before uttering them. Not that there was anything wrong with that, she told herself. She remembered how she’d done it herself – searching for words to convey her feelings, and finding them woefully inadequate.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It does take a while to absorb, I know.’
He met her eyes. ‘The policewoman wants me to give you a message. She says to tell you that they now know where my brother is, and that there is every likelihood that he’ll want you to stay here at least for the rest of this week. They will interview him in … where he is, but he won’t be able to come home for some time. He still wants the birds to be fed. Is that all right?’
She had no choice but to concur, despite a feeling that the birds might have been deterred from coming to the feeding station for at least the coming week. Then she had a thought. ‘The camera!’ she said. ‘Have they found anything on the camera?’
‘They didn’t say, but my suspicion is to the negative. I detected an atmosphere of dogged plodding, rather than any excitement as to leads or hard evidence.’
‘What did they ask you?’ Maureen wanted to know.
‘Oh, the obvious things. Whether I was sure I’d never seen the woman before, where my brother was, how often I came here. Nothing unexpected. I think I made a fairly good witness, though I say so myself.’
‘Witness to what?’ Thea asked, in puzzlement.
‘Sorry – wrong word, I suppose. Provider of background information, I mean. Family connections and so forth.’
‘Did they take a DNA sample from you?’
Fraser flushed. ‘They did, as it happens. I wasn’t very happy about it, and insisted they destroy it as soon as the case is closed. I strongly disapprove of thetendency to store people’s personal data, against all reason or legality.’
‘So do I,’ said Thea, in heartfelt agreement. For the first time, she felt a flicker of actual liking for the man. ‘But they’ve got to confirm that the dead girl wasn’t your daughter, I suppose. After all …’
‘Yes, yes, you don’t have to be delicate. I know there’s a theoretical possibility that I had a daughter without knowing it. But if she’s the age they think – around thirty – then I can solemnly declare that I was at that time in a prolonged period of self-imposed celibacy. My wife had not long left me,
But that led to another question, which ought to have been settled before now. ‘Er … Mum? You and Fraser? Do you want to be in the same room? He seems a bit frail to be sleeping on a sofa. He can have my bed, if necessary, and I’ll be down here.’
Maureen Johnstone blinked confusedly. ‘I thought we settled that. Aren’t there three bedrooms?’
‘Not really. The bed in the third one is piled high with junk. The room’s full of photographic stuff and a computer and books. Why? Did Oliver tell you differently?’
‘He can’t have done. I just thought …’ Worry deepened grooves around her mouth. ‘No, I don’t want to share a room with him. Please, Thea – don’t make me do that.’
Before Thea could properly respond to an alarmingly urgent plea, the front door opened and Fraser came in, looking almost as stricken as his new friend did.
The women both stared at him, while he squared his shoulders and forced a smile.
‘What happened?’ demanded Thea’s mother. ‘Why do you look so distraught?’
‘Delayed shock, I think,’ he said ruefully. ‘It hit me, all of a sudden, that a lovely young woman, in the prime of her life, has been wickedly killed. All I could think before was that she was not my daughter. But now I understand that she was
somebody’s
daughter, somebody’s desperate tragedy.’
It sounded to Thea as if he’d been rehearsing the words before uttering them. Not that there was anything wrong with that, she told herself. She remembered how she’d done it herself – searching for words to convey her feelings, and finding them woefully inadequate.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It does take a while to absorb, I know.’
He met her eyes. ‘The policewoman wants me to give you a message. She says to tell you that they now know where my brother is, and that there is every likelihood that he’ll want you to stay here at least for the rest of this week. They will interview him in … where he is, but he won’t be able to come home for some time. He still wants the birds to be fed. Is that all right?’
She had no choice but to concur, despite a feeling that the birds might have been deterred from coming to the feeding station for at least the coming week. Then she had a thought. ‘The camera!’ she said. ‘Have they found anything on the camera?’
‘They didn’t say, but my suspicion is to the negative. I detected an atmosphere of dogged plodding, rather than any excitement as to leads or hard evidence.’
‘What did they ask you?’ Maureen wanted to know.
‘Oh, the obvious things. Whether I was sure I’d never seen the woman before, where my brother was, how often I came here. Nothing unexpected. I think I made a fairly good witness, though I say so myself.’
‘Witness to what?’ Thea asked, in puzzlement.
‘Sorry – wrong word, I suppose. Provider of background information, I mean. Family connections and so forth.’
‘Did they take a DNA sample from you?’
Fraser flushed. ‘They did, as it happens. I wasn’t very happy about it, and insisted they destroy it as soon as the case is closed. I strongly disapprove of thetendency to store people’s personal data, against all reason or legality.’
‘So do I,’ said Thea, in heartfelt agreement. For the first time, she felt a flicker of actual liking for the man. ‘But they’ve got to confirm that the dead girl wasn’t your daughter, I suppose. After all …’
‘Yes, yes, you don’t have to be delicate. I know there’s a theoretical possibility that I had a daughter without knowing it. But if she’s the age they think – around thirty – then I can solemnly declare that I was at that time in a prolonged period of self-imposed celibacy. My wife had not long left me,
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