Read The Black Cat for Free Online

was born. You probably don’t know it…”
    Indeed he did; he knew it well.
    “Her dad worked in Newcastle. You know, it’s always been hard up there, jobs, I mean, and money tight. First her da died and then her mum. We didn’t see each other often, well, hardly ever, really. Christmas and the long school holiday, that was about all.”
    “Did Mariah look then as she does in this photo?” He tapped the silver frame.
    She frowned. “Not really. When she was younger, she was prettier. She seemed to just grow plainer, though usually it’s the other way round, isn’t it? I don’t understand it; I don’t understand any of it.” She started crying in earnest now.
    Jury moved over to the small sofa, put his arm round her shoulders, said, “I’m truly sorry for your loss, Edna.”
    He was beginning to feel sorry for his own, too.

8
    “This Devlin, the fiance. You know him?” Jury asked as they pulled away from the terraced house.
    DS Cummins nodded. “A bit. Bobby’s the flower guy.” “Sweet. But what does it mean?”
    “He grows flowers and sells them. He’s got a fabulous garden-a few acres outside of town.”
    Jury powered up his window; it was getting into evening and much cooler. “Any joy there? With Devlin?”
    Cummins shook his head. “I’d guess not. I mean, if you’re asking whether Bobby’s a suspect. I know well enough he’d never have hurt Mariah. Never.”
    “Where can I find him?”
    “Bobby? He’ll be in Market Square. Tuesdays and Fridays he keeps a stall. I can take you there. Do you want me along?”
    “No. That’s okay. Just drop me there.”
     
    Cummins was pulling up by a curb outside of the square that had been marked off for pedestrian shopping. He told Jury where he’d find the flower stall, adding, “Listen, if you’ve nothing better going, come round to our place for a drink. Chris’d be glad for the company. Seriously.”
    Jury didn’t feel like it, wanted to get back to London, but he hated turning David Cummins down for the second time. “That’d be nice, David. Can you pick me up back here in an hour?”
    Looking pleased, Cummins nodded. “Right here, and if you’re not, I’ll wait. You can always call me on my mobile.”
    Jury inspected the sky. “Yes, well, let’s just say an hour, okay?”
    Cummins drove away.
     
    Jury assumed it was Devlin, the intense, dark-haired young man with an armful of daisies and purple irises, talking to an elderly woman, apparently giving her advice about the care of a plant she was holding. She thanked him and left.
    “Mr. Devlin?” said Jury.
    He turned, still holding the shock of flowers.
    “You’re Robert Devlin?”
    “Bobby. What can I do for you?” He submerged the flowers in a tub holding several inches of water.
    “My name’s Richard Jury. I’m with Scotland Yard CID.” He held out his ID.
    “Oh.” The syllable was weighted with sadness.
    He was pale and handsome and so wistful-looking, Jury wanted to clap him on the shoulder and tell him to buck up. Jury had never told anyone to buck up in his life.
    Bobby Devlin looked down, up, down again. “It’s Mariah, isn’t it?” He pulled over an old crate and sat down, hard. His face was drawn, his body strained. “Sorry. There were two detectives just here…” He shook his head.
    “This must be hard for you. I understand you and Mariah Cox were engaged.”
    Bobby nodded. Then, becoming aware that Jury still stood while he sat, Bobby rose and pulled out one of the folding chairs leaning against the side of the stall. He opened it up, set it down for Jury, and sat back down again.
    Jury thought it was an uncommonly thoughtful thing to do, in the circumstances. He sat down between daylilies and floribunda roses.
    Bobby said, “We were going to get married in the fall, probably, and were going to live in my house. It’s small, but fine for a couple. I bought it because of the gardens. There’s over three acres. The old woman who lived there finally had