The Blue Virgin by Marni Graff Read Free Book Online Page A

knocked on his door in their house-to-house half an hour ago, Tommy had been prepared for them. It had been impossible that morning to live on Magdalen Road and not notice their presence, from the early-morning blue lights and sirens that woke the inhabitants to the crime scene tape and gathered crowd of gawkers outside the roped-off building. When he’d gone across to the Magic Cafe for his usual morning coffee, one of the waiters filled him in on the murder of that lithe brunette he’d watched so many times. That plainclothes guy whose eye he’d caught had sussed him out, he was almost certain, but he had been determined to remain calm and not let his anxiety show, and it had gone well. The plod had been brisk and officious, and after determining Tommy had not seen nor heard anything unusual, he had left.
      There was always the possibility his past wouldn’t come up, and he could get away from the spotlight. Even as he reassured himself on this point, Tommy felt fear knot in his intestines.
      As soon as they’d gone, he’d come out to reach his special spot, like an itch demanding to be scratched. Leaning back against one side of the huge tree stump, happy to watch the group of children climbing over and around it, he felt a surge of hunger center in his groin, uncoiling the tension. He’d memorized a definition of desire by Albert Camus he’d come across in a book of quotations in the prison’s library: “The warm beast … that lies curled up in our loins and stretches itself with fierce gentleness.”
      That guy knew what he was talking about, Tommy thought, stretching himself languorously, wondering if there was one among them today who could be coaxed to sit with him. He closed his eyes, picturing himself carefully exploiting a child’s imagination to gain its trust. And then they would wander off together into the deeper woods, where he would fulfill his promise to show the child how his pretty bird could grow.

Chapter Six

    “Very nice sort of place, Oxford, I should think, for people that like that sort of place.”
    — George Bernard Shaw, Man and Superman

    12:30 PM

    Val stood in the doorway, quivering like a cat before launching herself toward Nora and gathering her in a huge hug. As both women burst into tears, Nora was aware of Simon moving back into the hallway to give them some privacy. Val had called when they were just a few minutes out of Oxford and told them to meet at her flat.
      “Oh Val, I’m so sorry,” Nora said, rubbing her friend’s back.
      Val tightened her hold on Nora and cried into her hair, rocking back and forth. A few moments later she gulped and pushed Nora away, pulling tissues from her pocket and sharing them.
      “Simon, come in. I promise I won’t lunge at you,” Val said, giving him a damp hug before turning back to Nora. “Look at you—you’ve got a football in there.” She reached out to caress Nora’s baby bump gently. “You look wonderful,” she pronounced.
      “And you look tired and worn,” Nora said, taking in the dark circles under Val’s eyes and her splotched complexion. “How about I make us all tea?”
      “Sounds good,” Val said, linking arms with Nora as they entered the apartment.      It was the same layout as Nora’s on the floor below: a large main room with an opening in the far wall looking into a strip kitchen, one bedroom and a small bathroom. The flat showcased Val’s textile designs: bright, textured wall hangings; a colorful blanket shot through with satin ribbons, thrown over the back of the couch; heavy, theatrical trim bobbing from a lampshade.
      Nora settled Val and Simon on an overstuffed sofa and went into the small kitchen. “What happened with the police?” she asked.
      “They asked me a ton of questions, then I had to wait a hundred years for my statement to be transcribed, and after I signed it they let me go—with the usual warning not to leave the area,” she added in a heavy tone.