A Painted Doom by Kate Ellis Read Free Book Online Page A

interview with Jonny Shellmer, which could hardly have been classed as ‘in depth’
     – more a pleasant chat than an interrogation. There had been the usual questions about Rock Boat and Shellmer’s plans for
     the future. Shellmer’s answers were measured, thoughtful; his muted Liverpool accent quiet. As Ray had said, Shellmer hadn’t
     seemed depressed, and yet he sounded like a man with a lot on his mind.
    Eventually Wesley managed to get away. Gerry Heffernan was a widower with nobody waiting for him in his cottage overlooking
     the river on Baynard’s Quay. But Wesley had a wife and son waiting for him – and he was hungry.
    When Pam Peterson heard her husband’s key in the door,she wandered out into the hall to greet him. Her face looked pale and drawn as she stifled a yawn. ‘You’re late,’ she said,
     without reproach. ‘I haven’t eaten yet. I started writing up my lesson plans for next week and I lost track of time.’
    ‘How was school?’ Wesley asked dutifully. The Easter holidays had been an oasis of peace in their otherwise hectic domestic
     lives. Pam had read the books she had received for Christmas, played with baby Michael and made the arrangements for his first
     birthday party; she had had a home-cooked dinner on the table every night, caught up with friends. But two days ago term had
     started again and Michael had returned to his childminder. Things were back to normal, thought Wesley with regret.
    ‘Two days back and it feels like I’ve never been away. Some schools aren’t back till next Monday,’ she said with a touch of
     envy. ‘And it’s my turn to do an assembly: I’m getting the little darlings to sing a couple of French songs – “Frère Jacques”
     and “Sur le Pont d’Avignon” – should impress the parents if nothing else. What about you?’
    Wesley put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. ‘Someone’s been shot dead at Derenham. Found in a field of cows.
     That’s why I’m late.’
    ‘Accident?’ Mishaps with shotguns weren’t unknown in the countryside.
    ‘Doesn’t look like it. But we’ll know more tomorrow. Have you heard of a singer called Jonny Shellmer?’
    ‘Of course I have. My mother had all Rock Boat’s records – she was a big fan. Why do you ask?’
    ‘There’s been no formal identification yet but it’s possible that Jonny Shellmer might have been the victim of this shooting.’
    This got Pam’s attention. ‘You mean he shot himself?’
    Wesley shrugged his shoulders. ‘Well, there was no gun found by the body so that usually rules out suicide. What do you know
     about him?’ he asked tentatively. ‘What kind of rock star was he? Was he the wild, drug-crazed variety smashing up hotel rooms?
     Or was he the caring type,saving the rainforest and visiting African villages?’
    Pam began to laugh. ‘You sound as if you’ve never heard of him.’
    Wesley smiled sheepishly. ‘Jonny Shellmer was way before my time. And even if he had been around when I was of an age to be
     interested in that sort of thing, you know what my parents are like: an unhealthy interest in pop stars wasn’t encouraged
     in our house.’
    ‘You poor, deprived child,’ she said with a grin, planting a kiss on his cheek.
    Wesley’s parents, having come over from Trinidad to study medicine in London, had been determined that their children should
     succeed in their adopted country and had sent them to the best private schools and ensured that their musical experiences
     were more in the line of piano lessons and church choirs than an enthusiasm for rock stars. Pam, raised by an ineffectual
     father and a giddy mother blown by the winds of fashion, had a sneaking admiration for the Petersons’ dedication.
    She thought for a moment, trying to sort Jonny Shellmer in her mind from her mother’s other enthusiasms. Wesley noticed how
     pale she looked, the dark rings standing out beneath her eyes. She didn’t look well.
    ‘I don’t really