Murder in My Backyard by Ann Cleeves Read Free Book Online Page A

sprawled on the floor. He was tall like his brother but younger, good-looking in a dark Celtic way. He seemed too inexperienced, Ramsay thought, to be a doctor. It was hard to imagine him taking responsibility. He was too careless of other people, too self-absorbed. He took no notice of Ramsay.
    It was the women who held Ramsay’s attention. Their sophistication stirred memories that disturbed him. A fair, fine-boned woman sat on a small chair close to the fire smoking a cigarette. Her wrists were so thin and long that it seemed as if they would snap as she moved the cigarette to her mouth. She wore a white mohair sweater with a huge collar, and in contrast her eyes were very dark. She was so pale that he wondered if she were ill or had taken some medication. He had seen addicts with the same drawn pallor. But perhaps she was only scared, he thought, moved by her beauty. James Laidlaw saw Ramsay looking at the woman and introduced him.
    “This is Stella,” he said. “My wife.” With the few words he gave the impression of great pride.
    She turned towards Ramsay. Her neck was very long and the hair was tied back so tightly that her head seemed small. She smiled sadly. “ Good morning,” she said, and returned her gaze to the fire.
    The other woman was quite different in colouring and stature. She had a round face like a child’s and copper-coloured hair. He thought she would easily be raised to anger. When James introduced her as Judy Laidlaw, she did not speak but glared at him. Ramsay thought she was probably the sort of woman who disliked policemen as a matter of principle.
    At a coffee table away from the fire two children were making a jigsaw. They worked in silence, in a dreamlike absorption.
    “I’m sorry,” Ramsay said. “You’ll be upset. But you realise I’ll have to ask some questions.”
    “Of course,” James Laidlaw murmured. “Anything we can do to help.”
    Judy stood up and walked quickly to the playing children. “Carolyn,” she said quietly. “Would you mind taking Peter into your bedroom to finish the puzzle? We want to talk.”
    Ramsay thought for a moment that the girl would object or cause a scene. She turned towards her parents, who seemed not to notice that she was pleading to stay. Then, with an adult resignation, she picked up the jigsaw and left the room. Peter obediently followed her.
    Judy stared at Ramsay with a mixture of hostility and curiosity. “That is all right?” she said. “Peter found the body. He still seems terribly confused and I don’t want to make things worse.”
    “Of course,” Ramsay said. “ I’ll need to talk to him later, but it can wait.”
    He stood by the fireplace and looked at them, waiting for some response, for their questions. Judy was struck by his stillness. He must be very confident, she thought, to stand there quite immobile, watching us, waiting for someone to break the silence. For the first time she considered the police not as despicable but as frightening. Suddenly the silence was too much for her.
    “Max said Alice had been murdered,” she said. “ Is that true? I can’t believe it.”
    “Yes,” Ramsay said. “ Mrs. Parry was murdered. She was stabbed. It probably happened quite close to where Dr. Laidlaw found her. The murderer must have covered her body with the leaves. He, or she, might have thought it would take longer for Mrs. Parry to be found. If Peter hadn’t gone to play on the swing, it would have taken several hours, I should guess.”
    “She?” Judy cried. “You don’t think a woman would do anything like that?”
    Ramsay looked at her seriously. “Why not?” he said. “ It wouldn’t have taken any great strength, you know. Especially if the murderer was known to Mrs. Parry.”
    He realised he was trying to shock them and checked himself. It was time, for the moment, to stick to fact. He directed his questions to Max.
    “When you found the body,” he said, “was the wrought-iron gate between the garden