Read Online Maxwell's Chain by M.J. Trow - Free Book Online Page B

upright with a jerk (no reflection on Jacquie of course), straightening his glasses in a reflex movement. He cleared his throat and shrugged his jacket straight.
    ‘Do you have such a thing as a mint?’ he asked Jacquie. ‘My mouth feels horrible.’
    Jacquie foraged in her bag looking for one of those breath Things That Stick To The Roof Of Your Mouth and brought out a pack of Haribo Jelly Bears. She always carried some about her person;they were Maxwell’s favourite, after Southern Comfort, a rarish steak, coq au vin, prawn cocktail and Black Forest gateau; well, he was a child of the sixties. She proffered the bag.
    ‘Hmm, no thanks,’ Henry Hall felt he had lost enough gravitas on this journey. This was not the time to admit he only ate the black ones. There’d be all kinds of ethnic questions over that.
    ‘Anyway,’ Jacquie said, trying to restore some dignity into the proceedings. ‘Do we know who lives here? Parents? Just one parent?’
    ‘I believe that we will be meeting a Mrs Marianne Crown, previously Mrs Kent, Lara’s mother, and her husband, Lara’s stepfather.’
    ‘I see. Do we know how long ago the girl left home?’
    ‘Well, the dog was not very old, according to the vet. Two or thereabouts. She had him microchipped, probably around about eighteen, twenty months ago at the most. So, we’re looking at any time since summer before last up to last week.’
    ‘Right.’ They walked across the drive of the thirties house. Average. Everyday. Trim without opulence. Nothing out of the ordinary. Hardly the house of a murder victim. Yet Hall and Jacquie knew that was nonsense. It could be any house. Anywhere. Anytime. Jacquie knocked on the door.While she waited for it to open, she turned quickly to Hall. ‘Just one last thing, guv. Do they know how she was living?’
    ‘I don’t know,’ he said, then, quickly, ‘Here we go.’
    A shadow had appeared across the reeded glass of the door and it was eased open on a chain. One eye and a balding head partly filled the gap.
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘Hello, Mr Crown,’ Jacquie began. ‘We are from…’
    ‘Not today, thank you,’ the man said and firmly shut the door.
    ‘No, no,’ Jacquie lowered her mouth to the letterbox. ‘We are from Leighford Police. We rang…’
    The sound of genteelly raised voices from behind the door, followed by a scuffle, preceded the opening of the door. A pretty woman, about forty-five but not looking it, stood there. Her eyes were red, but otherwise her make-up and hair were immaculate.
    ‘I do apologise,’ she said, ushering them in. ‘I try to get to the door first, but he does so love to answer it and I’m not always quick enough. Come in, come in.’ She pointed to her left. ‘We’re through there.’
    They squeezed past her into a room dominated by an enormous cream leather sofa, complete withfootstools and matching cushions. Already sitting sulkily at one end was the owner of the eye and bald head. He didn’t look inclined to introduce himself, so Jacquie and Henry Hall took the initiative.
    ‘Mr Crown,’ Jacquie said, ‘I am Detective Sergeant Carpenter from Leighford.’
    He ignored her.
    ‘I am DCI Henry Hall,’ said Hall, in the slightly wheedling tone which even he adopted when faced with the recalcitrant elderly.
    Lara’s mother came in behind them. ‘Take no notice of him,’ she said. ‘He can be very rude sometimes.’ She ushered them into chairs crammed into opposite corners of the room, completely overwhelmed by the sofa. She took a seat at the opposite end of the monstrous thing to the sulky old man. She looked expectantly at them.
    Henry Hall began. ‘Mrs Crown, I am not sure quite what you have been told, but we are afraid that we have some bad news for you. A body was found last night in Leighford and it was carrying identification which leads us to suspect it is your daughter, Lara.’
    The woman nodded, appearing to be calm, but Jacquie noticed the clenched fist in her lap. Sudden death