Girl on a Train by A. J. Waines

Girl on a Train by A. J. Waines

Author:A. J. Waines [Waines, A. J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781490320045
Google: RmxjngEACAAJ
Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
Published: 2013-06-19T16:00:00+00:00


Chapter Thirteen

I drifted in and out of bizarre dreams that night; half planning what I was going to do at the church the next day, half finding myself in strange rooms, caves and tunnels, that didn’t belong to St Stephen’s. At one stage I was wandering around a crypt, which opened out into a massive cemetery, like the one I’d visited with Stefan in Streatham.

I kept running through ideas in my mind about what the pencil rubbing referred to - where I was going to find it. And what it would lead to.

Morris Whitlock at the British Museum had said the ironwork could be found inside a church, but could equally be located in any number of other places. It could be that Elly had hidden incriminating letters from a lover, or a diary, but even I had to admit that whilst either Sam or Frank might be keen to get their hands on some such item, it was decidedly extreme to follow Elly all the way to Portsmouth, or indeed to kill her for it. Surely, it had to be more than that.

Was this treasure trail all about Toby going missing? Would there be evidence of some kind that wasn’t sufficiently conclusive to take to the police? I’d pinned my hopes on finding something at the church, but maybe it had nothing to do with that. Maybe what I was looking for was at the wholefood shop, in Elly’s or Flora and Jamilla’s flat like before, or somewhere else entirely.

Another thought occurred to me. What if Stefan was right and there was nothing to find. That would be worst of all.

I fretted, sticky with sweat and threw off the duvet. Then shivering, reclaimed it again. I tried a foetal position, but wasn’t comfortable, flopped over on to my front, but couldn’t breathe. Finally, I tossed myself on to my back and stared at the ceiling, watching the headlights of passing cars flash across it, like search lights.

Tomorrow was the last day before Elly’s inquest. I needed to find something concrete now to show the police before her demise was recorded in stone as suicide.

I arrived early at the church and had to walk twice around the block before I saw Father Brian unlock the main door. I began my search straight away. Trying to look like a curious tourist, I started at the back on the right and worked my way up to the altar, looking for anything that could be a match for the ironwork rubbing. I stopped at metal plaques, chests to scrutinise the metal locks and the collection boxes embedded in the wall.

I looked up at the organ and examined every partition - the font, the pulpit - although much of the detail was carved in wooden panels. I got as close as I could to the altar - and the chalices and cups - the heavily worked front of the bible. I went into the individual chapels along the side of the church, checking the iron railings, any detail on boxes, cupboards, doors, light fittings.



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