Page 43 of A Very Bookish Murder
The door was opened by Cathy, who was a tiny, curvy lady with immaculate blonde hair and wearing a rather tight floral-print dress.
‘Well,’ she said, after studying them for a moment, ‘you must be Ally and…’
‘Ross,’ he supplied, shaking her hand.
‘Aye, Ross, that’s it. Come on in.’ She beamed as she stood aside to let them enter a tiny hall, which had a picture rail near the top of the walls, on which were displayed innumerable china plates. ‘Come on into the lounge,’ she said, ‘and see himself.’ She opened the door into a sea of floral chintz.
Rigby was sitting by the fireside in a bluebell-patterned armchair, wearing a snazzy red pullover, cord trousers and tartan slippers. Ally had only ever seen him formally dressed before so she took a moment to digest that this reallywasRigby.
‘You arenotto stand up!’ Cathy instructed him. ‘Ally and Ross will understand.’
Ally and Ross nodded obediently as they settled themselves in the sea of pink roses and blue hydrangeas which covered the sofa opposite.
‘It was good of you to come,’ Rigby said. ‘I know you’re both busy.’
‘It’s good to see you looking so much better,’ Ally said truthfully. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Oh, much better, thanks. It’s so good to get out of hospital and away from hospital food.’ He looked fondly at his wife. ‘Cathy’s a great cook you know.’
‘I’ll just go and make some tea,’ said Cathy, turning a little pink with the compliment.
As she left the room, Rigby asked, ‘How are you getting on with Amir Kandahar?’
‘Very well,’ Ally replied. Then she added, ‘I would like to be able to tell him about your sister, Bob.’
He pulled a face. ‘Hmm, maybe. Have you managed to find out anything of interest?’
At this point, Cathy bustled in with a tray of tea, along with a large Victoria sponge, and set about pouring the tea into dainty china cups, having asked everyone how they liked it. She then insisted they all had a slice of the cake. ‘I only baked it this morning,’ she said.
Ally cleared her throat. ‘Is it OK to tell you what I found?’ She glanced in Cathy’s direction.
‘Oh, Cathy’s well aware of everything,’ Rigby said as Cathy nodded.
‘Well,’ Ally said, ‘it appears that Jodi Jones gave birth to a baby in 1975 but had it adopted.’ She removed her laptop from her bag, opened up the relevant page and passed the machine across to Rigby. ‘You need to read this, Bob.’
‘This sister business has taken over his life,’ Cathy said, ‘and the sooner it’s all sorted out the better.’ She sniffed loudly. ‘There are times when I wish we’d never left Birmingham. You expect some crime in a big city, but you don’t expect it up here, do you? And you certainly don’t expect to find the body of your sister,ifit is his sister.’
‘The only way you’re going to know for sure,’ Ross said, ‘is to request a DNA test.’
Rigby handed Ally back her laptop. ‘I was in such a state of shock when I found her body that I didn’t think to…’ His voice drained away for a moment. ‘If this stuff is true, then I must have a niece or nephew somewhere.’
‘Surely it must be true,’ Ally said, ‘because this was printed over a year ago and so Jodi would have had plenty time to sue them for writing lies. But why hasn’t the child, now an adult of course, appeared yet? Or the father of that child, if he’s still alive? It seems that she was very much involved with her agent, Harry Harper.’
‘Did you speak to Desdemona Morton again?’ Rigby asked.
‘Yes, on the phone. She only knew Jodi at university and had no idea about her home life, only that some man with a big car would collect her at the end of term. And that they embraced.Embracedwas the word she used, not cuddled or kissed or anything like that.’
Rigby was staring at his cup of tea as if it had just landed from outer space. ‘I always hoped she’d got married, had children and was happy somewhere. But she doesn’t sound very nice, does she?’
‘She probably had a very tough life,’ Ally said diplomatically. ‘It must have been hard for her, and she had to become resilient. Who knows?’
‘Who knows?’ Rigby repeated. ‘I need to see her again. I need to see her before she’s six feet under.’ He looked at his wife. ‘I’ll have to get permission from Kandahar, of course.’
‘You’re supposed to be resting at home and not getting agitated,’ Cathy said sternly. ‘No excitement, the doctor said.’
‘I don’t give a monkey’s what the doctor said,’ Rigby snapped, draining his teacup. ‘I need to see her body. I need to get some DNA. I need to see her face again, and the mark on her neck…’ His voice choked, and he hastily wiped his eyes.
‘As you’re no longer on the case, you’d have to go through the official channels,’ Ross reminded him.
