The Crow Trap by Ann Cleeves

Author:Ann Cleeves [TRAP, THE CROW]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2011-04-22T23:00:00+00:00

“Don’t know. Didn’t see. Didn’t ask him in. Only Ed.”

“Did you see the car?”

“Not from here.” Which was true, because all they could see through the window was the courtyard and an elderly man in stockinged feet who had pulled a kitchen chair onto his doorstep so he could sit in the sun.

“Did Edmund give you any details of what had happened?”

Nancy breathed down through her nose, pulling her lips back from her gums. “Of course not. He was upset, wasn’t he? And I didn’t ask.”

“Do you have any ideas?”

“What do you mean?”

“About who might have killed her.”

“No … ” She hesitated but decided not to continue.

“How did Edmund seem when he was here?”

“How do you think?” She paused again. “He was angry.”

“Did he think he knew who’d strangled her?”

“You’ll have to ask him that. Not that it’s any of your business.” She held out a long finger for the budgie to perch on. Anne leant over to stroke it.

“Could we see those letters?” she asked.

“No.” Nancy’s voice was firm.

“We’d like to find out a bit more about her.”

“Why?”

“I said. We were friends. We miss her. And they’re a valuable record of her life.”

“They’re in a box upstairs. I don’t manage the stairs very well these days.”

“I’ll get them.” Anne got up from the divan.

“No.” With a surprising agility Nancy stood up and moved to block the door. “I don’t want you nebbing round my things. You wait here. I’ll fetch them.”

They heard her banging about in the room above them. She seemed to be muttering to herself. Then a door shut and they heard her move heavily down the stairs. They went out into the passage to wait for her there.

She held in her hand not a pile of letters but one white envelope.

“This was all I could find.” She grinned so they would know she was lying.

“That’s very kind.” Anne took the letter and added, “Do you know where Edmund Fulwell is?”

“Home, I suppose.”

“No. No one’s seen him for days.”

“He’s always been a bit wild.” “If he gets in touch,” Anne said, ‘ should tell the police. They’re worried about him.”

“No need to be worried. He can look after himself that one.”

She opened the front door to let them out. Upstairs there was a movement, a noise. They stood still, startled, and stared up the gloomy stairwell. From the shadows the budgerigar flew over the banister straight towards them. It circled as if to make its escape through the open door then landed on Nancy’s shoulder. She stroked its beak and cooed.

Chapter Forty-One.

The letter from Grace was dated two years previously. The address was a small town in south-west Scotland. In the envelope along with the letter was a picture postcard showing the scene of a river and meadows with a church tower in the distance. Nothing was written on the blank side of the card but the picture was marked with a cross and Grace had written over it in biro, “This is where I camped last night.

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