Read Ramsay 04 - Killjoy for Free Online

garlic, and wine. It was much easier than taking Prue back to his home in the pit village between Otterbridge and the coast. She was charming, uncritical, but in her presence Mrs Ramsay grew uneasy and threatened. She looked around the small Coal Board cottage where they lived, as if she knew it was not what Prue was used to. She could not bring herself to apologize for it but Prue’s style and confidence made her resentful. She was brittle, too polite, and when Stephen’s father came home from the pit with coal dust under his fingernails she blushed with shame.
    Ramsay standing in the doorway, looking at the three women huddled around the tea tray, thought that Prue had grown to look more like her father. She had not changed so much. Her hair was streaked with grey and she was drawn and tired but he would have known her anywhere. She looked up at him calmly, without apparent recognition, and he thought he must have aged dramatically or that their relationship had meant so little to her that she had forgotten it long ago.
    ‘Good evening,’ he said evenly. ‘ I’m sorry to have kept you. My name’s Ramsay. I’m an Inspector with Northumbria Police.’
    Then there was a slow recognition, a relief. ‘Stephen,’ she said. ‘It is you. I wondered but I couldn’t believe it. It seemed too good to be true.’
    Ramsay was uncomfortably aware of Hunter. What would the sergeant make of that? he wondered. What sordid rumour would he start in the canteen?
    He spoke formally. ‘I’m afraid I have to ask some questions,’ he said. ‘I’m sure you’ll understand.’
    ‘Yes,’ she said. Was she offended by the formality? Surely she would understand. Probably she hardly cared either way. If there was a daughter there was probably a husband. She wore no wedding ring but that meant nothing. And many women used their maiden names for professional purposes. ‘Yes,’ she repeated. ‘ Of course.’
    He was aware of the need to concentrate, to bring his attention back to the case, to treat it as just another investigation.
    ‘Perhaps you would introduce me,’ he said briskly, to get things moving. She seemed surprised by his tone but answered readily.
    ‘This is Anna,’ she said. ‘My daughter. You must realize that she’s very upset. Gabby was a close friend.’
    He looked at a thin, pale teenager with unusually straight dark hair. He saw a shadow of Prue as a girl in the features, but there was none of Prue’s confidence and the shadow disappeared. Anna had been crying and clutched a wet handkerchief in long white fingers. She looked up at him and nodded, then returned to her grief.
    ‘This is Ellen Paston,’ Prue said then. ‘ Gabby was her niece.’ Ramsay saw a large middle-aged woman with a permanently curved back, she shape of a turtle’s shell, and huge red hands. She stared back at him, blankly, without distress or anger.
    ‘I work here,’ she said. ‘In the cafeteria.’ Then, grudgingly: ‘I suppose you’ll want some tea.’
    He shook his head. He was unsure how he should handle the situation. He should see them all separately of course, take statements, check discrepancies, the small lies and mistakes which would lead to a conviction. But was there any need for all that tonight? Surely it could wait until the morning. Tonight an informal discussion, when shock would make them talk more freely, would be more fruitful. Hunter would disapprove of course. He had the technique of the macho hectoring interview down to a fine art. But Ramsay was used to Hunter’s disapproval. He pulled a chair between Anna and Ellen Paston. ‘Tell me what happened,’ he said, gently.
    ‘We found her body,’ Prue said. ‘You know that.’
    ‘It was dreadful!’ Anna cried. Prue seemed surprised by the interruption and Ramsay thought it was hysteria which had given the girl the courage to speak. ‘I was so cross when she didn’t turn up tonight, you know. She messed us around and put Gus in a bad mood. I even