Entry Island by May Peter

Author:May, Peter [May, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Quercus
Published: 2014-12-09T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

I

The bar shimmered in semi-darkness, light washing down across bottles and optics from hidden overhead lighting. Sime sat at the polished counter on his own, while a bored barman cleaned glasses to keep himself busy. He hadn’t felt much like eating with the others, and now they were all in the bowling alley. Friends and colleagues who had worked together on the same team for months, sharing friendship and downtime. Laughing. Cheering when someone made a strike, voices echoing around the cavernous bowling hall. There was a feeling that they were just one step away from cracking this case, and spirits were high. Norman Morrison had been dismissed as a red herring. At worst it seemed that his death had been nothing more than a tragic accident.

Sime had his back to them, but couldn’t shut out the noise.

He was on his third or fourth whisky and had begun to lose count. But the oblivion he had been hoping for seemed no nearer than it had when he first sat down. If the alcohol was having any effect on him he wasn’t aware of it.

As hard as he tried he couldn’t banish from his mind the wounded animal look in Kirsty’s eyes when she’d told him that the lion had just got the gazelle. It had left him feeling ruthless and predatory.

He no longer knew what to believe about her. But the fact that she had told him the truth about the pendant was no longer in any doubt, and it left him feeling hugely unsettled. How did they come to possess the same family crest engraved in the same semi-precious carnelian? One a ring, one a pendant. Clearly pieces of a matching set.

Crozes had been dismissive. Nothing to do with the case, he’d said. And Sime was unable to find any grounds with which to challenge that assessment. There was no obvious link to the murder.

And yet still Sime was haunted by that moment he’d first set eyes on the widow and been convinced he knew her. Somehow in that light the arm-and-sword crest seemed less of a coincidence. But he could not for the life of him imagine what it was that connected them.

If there was a connection, and the matching ring and pendant had some significance beyond coincidence, then he could only think that the answer must lie in the diaries. Something in all of this had sparked his dreams and recollections of them. And Annie had thought there was some mention of the ring in them, though he had no memory of that himself. Of course, he knew that his grandmother had not read them everything from the journals. And he vaguely recalled his parents expressing concern about one of the stories. Not suitable for young children, they had said.

He needed to get his hands on those diaries.

‘Another one of those, monsieur?’ The barman nodded towards his empty glass on the bar. But Sime couldn’t face another. He shook his head. It was time to face

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