Love Dies Twice by Barbara Wilson

Author:Barbara Wilson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: mystery, lesbian, international crime, lgbt fiction, feminist fiction, amateur mystery
Publisher: Barbara Wilson

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When I woke up in the morning in my own bed, I savored the fact that I was alive. I took another hot shower, drank some coffee, and sat down at my desk in a business-like, non-dallying way to finish a short translation job that I could invoice and be paid for like a proper adult.

I resolved to give up on this ridiculous investigation, at least on the part of it that involved Gayle. Yes, she’d probably been fonder of Vonn than she’d let on. The poor wee thing hadn’t wanted her overbearing girlfriend Vida to know that she still saw Vonn from time to time. Okay, maybe Gayle had kept a key. Was that a crime? Nothing I’d seen when we’d been at the flat doing the organizing should lead me to believe anything, but that Gayle cared about Vonn, wanted to make sure her archives were saved and her life remembered. She probably also picked up a bit of cash from the landlord for cleaning out the flat.

But if Gayle were hiding something more sinister, why would she have asked me and Amina to come over and help? I was definitely not going to pursue Gayle down to Torquay. Nor did I hope to see Vida ever again.

Then, around ten o’clock, I got a phone call that made me think again about my wee friend.

It was from the Guardian journalist, Alice, who said that she wasn’t sure what I’d been talking about in the message I’d left on her office voicemail. She didn’t know anything about Vonn Henley’s death, didn’t know anyone at the coroner’s office, and had never been to the Ladies’ Pond. She was not a swimmer. She sounded more bemused than annoyed, and I apologized. “My friend must have remembered the name wrongly. So sorry.”

But when I hung up, I thought that, once again, Gayle had fibbed. She had definitely said, on two occasions, that a Guardian journalist was the source of some of the things known about Vonn’s death. She had mentioned an Alice or an Alex.

Like the lie about only running into Vonn at the Ladies’ Pond two years ago, it may have been a harmless mistake.

But if it wasn’t? If Gayle had deliberately been trying to sow some confusion? Or bolster the so-called claim that there were traces of drugs in Vonn’s system but no signs of foul play.

The other thing that disturbed my concentration Monday morning was an email from Avery. It was good news. SNP had expressed a strong interest in the translation of Verónica. They wanted to meet me and suggested lunch this coming Friday. But they also wanted to see more of the translation if possible. The second twenty pages I’d done still wasn’t quite enough for them. Could I do one more chapter, with more action in the bullring, so they could see how the writer dealt with the handling of the bulls?

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