No More Lies (The Kent Fisher Mysteries Book 4) by Robert Crouch

Author:Robert Crouch [Crouch, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-05-08T16:00:00+00:00

Thirty-Four

On Sunday morning I drive to Herstmonceux. I park on the opposite side of the road to Connie Wright’s bungalow to give me a clear view in both directions. It’s a little after nine forty-five and I can’t stop going over the questions I want to ask Freya.

She rang while I was at Ashley’s. I ignored the call, picking up the voicemail at home. Armed with the address, I considered visiting Connie alone this morning, but I want to confront Freya, to hear what she has to say.

Innocent until proven guilty, I remind myself.

The small estate was built during the 1960s or 70s when windows reached all the way to the floor to increase heat loss. Most of the owners have enclosed the recessed front doorways with patio doors to create a porch. Most have well-tended gardens, many filled with bright annuals. Connie prefers crazy paving and a few plants in pots. There’s a concrete ramp and handrail to the front door and no car in the drive.

Maybe she’s popped into the village for a Sunday newspaper.

William Fisher surrounded himself with Sunday newspapers and their glossy supplements. He remained at the breakfast table, long after his mug of tea went cold, reading the Times, Telegraph and Observer in turn. As a young child, I sat next to him. He pointed out the photographs, but I was always fascinated by the words, especially the big headlines. I wanted to know what they said, what they meant. Little by little, he taught me to read.

When I started school, my reading seemed to antagonise the teachers for reasons I’ve never understood.

Freya’s arrival brings me back to the present. Her van swings around the corner and pulls into the bungalow’s drive. She remains in the van, staring at a chocolate bar in her hand. She reaches to open the wrapper several times, always stopping and shaking her head.

I know how she feels. I want to undress her, to make love to her, in spite of my reservations. Why can’t I get her out of my thoughts? Why am I angry with Ashley when Freya lied to me?

At least Ashley didn’t follow me when I met my father yesterday.

Or did she? We were only five minutes from Jevington.

I need certainty, clarity. I hope Connie Wright can provide that.

Then I’ll confront Freya.

Setting my emotions aside, I walk over to her van. “I admire your willpower,” I say, gesturing at the chocolate bar.

She gasps and puts her hand to her chest. “Don’t sneak up like that! Where are you parked?”

I open the door for her. “I didn’t want to wait outside in case it worried Connie. Is there anything I need to know?”

“About what?”

“About Connie.”

Freya pushes the hair out of her eyes and adjusts the bulldog clip. A combination of eyeliner and mascara highlight her eyes, accentuating the lost soul look I find so endearing. A generous coating of lip gloss highlights the whiteness of her teeth and the curve of her mouth. Her skin may not

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