Tangled Web by Ken McClure Read Free Book Online Page B

not while she was alive!’ said Gordon angrily. Davies and Lawrence didn’t respond but their silence was distressingly eloquent.

FOUR
     
     
    Gordon left the PM room, drawing in deep breaths of fresh air to rid himself of the smell of death and formalin fixative: he felt totally confused. Although there was still no way he could bring himself to believe that John Palmer had murdered Anne-Marie - despite his confession - he did face the enormous stumbling block of trying to imagine just who had. If he ruled out Lucy Palmer - and he did - he was left with a scenario where the baby had been kidnapped by a stranger, murdered by that stranger and then returned to the Palmers’ own back garden for burial, and this was after an abortive attempt to dissolve her remains in acid. It just didn’t make any sense but he could at least understand why the police had difficulty in considering it as a realistic possibility. He got into the Land Rover and drove over to see Lucy.
    Lucy Palmer’s sister lived in a small terraced house in Sackville Street, a narrow street, tucked away behind the University of North Wales’s main science library in Bangor. Parking was difficult round there so he decided to take a chance and use the university car park, despite dire warnings to non-permit-holders displayed at the entrance. It was after all, Saturday evening and he couldn’t imagine there being too many academics around.
    His firm knock on the bottle green door was answered by an attractive woman in her mid thirties with a tea towel thrown casually over one shoulder.
    ‘If it’s double glazing, we’re not interested,’ she said.
    ‘I’m Tom Gordon, Lucy’s GP. I thought I might be able to help,’ said Gordon.
    ‘Oh, I am sorry,’ said the woman, apologising with a smile, ‘it’s good of you to come. I’m Gina Melford, Lucy’s sister.’
    Gordon was ushered in to a room facing the back of the house where he found Lucy sitting on a couch with her shoulders hunched and her arms folded tightly. A box of Kleenex tissues sat at her side and an untouched cup of tea lay on the table in front of her. She was staring at it distantly rather than drinking it. She looked up when she heard him come in and he saw the pain in her red-rimmed eyes.
    ‘Lucy, I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am,’ said Gordon. ‘This is an absolute nightmare.’
    ‘The whole world’s gone mad, Tom,’ said Lucy in a low voice. ‘I just don’t know what’s happening any more. One moment we were building a snowman in the garden and the next our life is in ruins.’
    Gordon was alarmed at how frail Lucy appeared. Her normal air of self-confidence had disappeared and her body language of crossed arms and bowed head suggested defeat. Her blonde hair hung limply about her face and her cheeks seemed pale and drawn. He sat down beside her, placing his bag at his feet and putting his arm round her shoulders. ‘Quite unbelievable,’ he said.
    ‘John didn’t kill Anne-Marie, you must know that,’ said Lucy.
    ‘Of course,’ said Gordon, ‘but for whatever reason, he’s made a confession and that’s going to make things difficult. I just don’t understand. Have you any idea what made him do it?’
    ‘Lucy leaned forward and looked resolutely at the floor, still cradling her head with both hands. She had difficulty getting the words out, but in the end she said, ‘He must think I did it.’
    Gordon let a few moments go by before asking softly, ‘Why should he think that, Lucy?’
    Lucy considered for a moment in silence before saying. ‘Sometimes I get low; I get depressed. I try to be positive like John but it’s not always easy: I’m not as strong as he is. He’s a natural optimist and I’m not. I see the black side of things all too clearly. I hadn’t been feeling too well the day before it happened; I was very low. John must think I killed Anne-Marie while he was out in the garden working on the snowman.’
    ‘But you