Read Online A Wreath for my Sister by Priscilla Masters - Free Book Online Page A

‘She thought he sounded exciting.’
    â€˜What do you mean, exciting?’
    â€˜She said there was something about him – something mysterious. He said things.’
    â€˜What sort of things?’
    â€˜I don’t know.’ Christine looked embarrassed. ‘Things about how he fancied her a lot. She didn’t show me the letters. She kept herself to herself. Anyway, she thought she’d go out with him first. After all,’ she said, dragging on another cigarette, ‘what’s the point of wasting your time with some old bugger if all the time Prince Charming’s waiting for you in the glass coach?’
    â€˜Quite,’ Joanna said drily. ‘So what was the arrangement?’
    â€˜They was meeting at the Quiet Woman. He told her to get there for eight and then they’d go on for a meal.’
    Joanna’s mind returned to the stomach contents spilled out at the post mortem. She hadn’t had that meal.
    â€˜You last saw her when?’
    â€˜About eight. She dropped the kids off at seven. I did her hair. She left at eight.’
    â€˜Did she come back at all during the evening?’
    Christine slowly shook her head. ‘No. She didn’t. I know because I kept a watch on her house.’ She flushed. ‘I wasn’t being nosey, but I was itching to know who he was.’
    â€˜So they were to meet at the Quiet Woman at eight?’ Christine nodded. ‘He said he’d come in for her.’ She looked as though suddenly struck by the thought. ‘Was it definitely him?’
    â€˜We don’t know,’ Joanna said, ‘but her car has been found at the Quiet Woman.’ She stood up. ‘Please, Christine,’ she said. ‘Think. Was there anything else about this man? Anything at all?’
    Christine blinked and stared ahead of her for a long tíme before speaking. ‘There was something funny,’ she said slowly. ‘There was. Me and Sharon,’ she licked her lips, ‘we got the feeling he already knew her.’
    â€˜How?’
    â€˜He said ... oh – I can’t remember the exact words. In one he said something about, about her dark hair – and looking stunning in red.’
    â€˜You’re sure?’
    â€˜Something like that.’ Christine stubbed out her cigarette. ‘But the weirdest thing was that he knew her name. When he wrote to her he said “Dear Sharon.” And he said she wouldn’t have to drive that battered old Fiesta for much longer.’ She watched Joanna carefully. ‘We thought it was funny at the time.’ She blinked back tears. ‘She said it made her feel a bit creepy – watched. You know. But she was still excited, though. She still wanted to meet him.’
    â€˜Yes,’ Joanna said. ‘I do know.’ She sighed. ‘We’ll need to sort something out for her children. How many are there?’
    â€˜Three. October, she’s four, then there’s William, two. And lastly there’s a baby, Ryan. He’s only six months old.’ Christine looked even more upset. ‘I don’t suppose they’ll remember their mummy, will they?’
    How could she expect Joanna to have an answer to this? ‘I don’t know.’
    â€˜Christine ...’Joanna said tentatively, knowing she had to ask one of the most difficult questions of a friend. She had underestimated her.
    With a resigned air Christine stood up. ‘I know what you’re going to ask me,’ she said. ‘To identify her.’ She stopped and sniffed. ‘It’ll give me nightmares but I’ll do it,’ she said. ‘I’ll do it for her because I was her friend. And I’ll do it for them kids in there. And because the sooner you’re sure it was her the sooner you’ll nail the bastard what did it. I’ll identify her, provided she isn’t all cut about.’ She looked at Joanna. ‘She isn’t – is