The Crow Trap by Ann Cleeves Read Free Book Online

question.
    “No,” he said at last. “Why would I? It was your project.”
    “You weren’t out on the hill?”
    “No. Why do you ask?”
    She shook her head and stood back from the Range Rover. He hesitated and then he drove away.
    She was convinced he had lied. The memory had been triggered as he stood by the car and turned to wave goodbye. It was something about his posture and the shape of the jacket with the collar pulled up. It had been Peter she had seen caught in her headlights as she crossed Black Law ford on the night of Bella’s suicide. And he had lied.
    Chapter Seven.
    Bella’s remains were disposed of at the large crematorium at Kimmerston. For some reason Rachael had imagined her buried at Langholme churchyard, which was, in effect, another piece of in-bye land, with sheep grazing just on the other side of a low stone wall and Fairburn Crag in the distance. If she’d been buried, at least Rachael would have had a grave to visit. But Neville and Dougie if Dougie had any say in the matter which she doubted had decided on the cremation.
    There was piped Vivaldi and a vicar who seemed to know nothing about Bella to lead the dreary service.
    The day of the funeral Grace stayed at Baikie’s, though Rachael had offered her a lift into town.
    “I don’t mean that you should come to the crematorium. Why should you?
    You’d never even met Bella. But you’re due some time off. Treat yourself to lunch or a browse in the book shops We could meet up later for a meal
    … “
    But Grace had declined the offer. “I know it’s not allowed to go onto the hill without someone there to check me back in, but I’ve got loads to do. I mean it’ll be a really good chance to look at the material I’ve got so far.” She’d paused, coloured. “Besides, a friend might visit. Perhaps stay the night. You wouldn’t mind, would you?”
    “Oh no!” Rachael was pleased that there was someone else, that she wasn’t entirely responsible for Grace’s welfare. “If you’ve got company we won’t have to rush back.”
    Though she didn’t like to admit it, she hadn’t been looking forward to the drive into Kimmerston with Grace, whose distracted silences deadened the conversation around her. Anne Preece could be irritating and opinionated but she was at least normal. At this thought Rachael felt a stab of guilt. She heard Edie’s voice in her head: What right have you to judge? And what’s normal anyway?
    They arrived at the crematorium early Rachael was incapable of being late and they waited outside for a moment, unsure of the proper procedure. There was still a gusty wind which blew clouds across the sun and flattened the dying daffodils which had been planted along the outside wall. Rachael had visited the crematorium once before in autumn. A rare bird, a Bonelli’s warbler, had turned up in the Garden of Rest. Birdwatchers from all over the country had arrived with their telescopes and tripods, mingling with bereaved relatives and irate funeral directors. Later she had described the scene to Bella, who had laughed. She remembered Bella, standing in Black Law kitchen, holding the teapot with the tannin-stained cosy, chuckling so that tea spilt over the table, and for the first time that day she felt close to tears.
    Inside the chapel she chose a seat close to the aisle so she could watch the mourners. The building was almost empty. Edie arrived and squeezed in beside her, touched her hand. Rachael felt the sympathy physically. It was like someone jostling her in a queue, thrusting a face too close to hers, demanding a response. She wanted to push her mother away. She thought, I should never have gone to see her, never asked for her help.
    There were a few people whom Anne recognized from Langholme. She identified them in a whisper: the post mistress and her husband, the young couple who farmed Wandylaw, tenants of the estate. Peter sat with Amelia close to the back, very smart in the expensive suit he wore for