With a Narrow Blade by Faith Martin Read Free Book Online

uniform wouldn’t come back with tea unless she actually indicated that she wanted it. It was just a way of leaving them alone, whilst she got on with the interview.
    ‘Hello Mrs Weekes. I’m sorry to bother you so soon. I know it must have been quite a shock for you.’ As she spoke, she walked forward and, uninvited, sat down in a large, black leather chair. It faced the sofa across the expanse of a wide, glass-topped coffee table, on which rested a luxuriant spider plant and one of those books full of stunning photography. The whole place reminded Hillary of one of those ideal homes exhibitions. Did anybody really live in such spotless elegance? Well, evidently Caroline Weekes did.
    The witness was dressed imaginatively and well, but her eyes were large and hollow looking, and she noticed that the woman sat with her hands under her armpits as if trying to warm them. All signs of distress and shock.
    But, as the statistics showed, the person who first found a body had to go straight to the top of any investigator’s list. Any trace or forensic evidence found on such a person could so easily be explained away, which was why many killers opted to ‘find’ their victim before anyone else had the chance to. She hoped the WPC had explained to Mrs Weekes that they’d be needing the clothes she’d been wearing when she found Flo Jenkins.
    ‘So, perhaps you can just talk me through what happened this morning,’ Hillary began, keeping her voice friendly and light. ‘You woke up at your usual time?’
    ‘Yes. Seven. John has to get up that early to make the commute. He works in High Wycombe.’
    ‘John’s your husband?’
    ‘Yes.’ She gave his details and Hillary wrote them down, though she doubted they’d be needed. But it was often useful to slide into these things gradually.
    ‘You had breakfast?’ she prompted.
    ‘Yes. Cornflakes. Tea. I left the house to go to work about ten past, quarter past eight. Something like that.’
    ‘You didn’t drive?’
    ‘No, I usually catch the bus. I only work in town, so it’s easier. Parking and all.’
    ‘But you called in to see Mrs Jenkins. You usually do that?’
    ‘Yes, couple of times a week. Just to see if she needs anything – shopping, her rubbish bin taken out, that kind of thing. I can pop into Somerfield, which is just over the road from work, then nip on the bus, take it to her, and still have a decent lunch hour. Sometimes she used to do me soup and toast at her place.’ Her voice sounded wistful, as if it had just occurred to her that there would be no more such lunches.
    Hillary nodded. ‘I’m sorry. It sounds as if you were very friendly.’
    ‘We were.’
    ‘How did you meet?’
    ‘At a funeral, of all things.’ Caroline gave a grim laugh and turned her head to stare out of the rain-speckled window. ‘A neighbour and close friend of my mother’s. Flo also knew her from way back. We got talking, realized we only lived a few minutes’ walk from each other, and she invited me over for tea the following week. I might not have gone, you know how it is, but it seemed rude. Anyway, I went, and we got talking, and we sort of clicked. Lots of people think that’s strange – her being so much older, but that was never really an issue. Oh, over the years, I started doing bits and bobs for her – when she couldn’t manage so well. You know how it is. But really, I’m not much of a good Samaritan. I don’t help out charities, or spend time at soup kitchens or stuff like that. It was just for Flo.’ She fiddled with a button on her jacket and frowned. ‘I don’t want you to get the impression I’m a goody two shoes. One of those frightful women who think they know what’s best for the elderly and go around doing good works. That’s not me at all. And it wasn’t Flo, either. She was fiercely independent as a rule, but just lately she’s been under the weather and simply couldn’t do as much as she used to. She hated having to ask, so I made