Read The Celtic Dagger for Free Online Page B

‘Oh, she must have decided to keep it.'
    'You've seen it before?'
    'Yes, here at the gallery.  When I didn't see it again, I assumed it'd been sold.'  Edwina paused.  'It's so beautiful I suppose she couldn't bear to part with it.'
    'When was this, Edwina?'
    'When you were in Cyprus.  Just before her death.  The day before, actually.  I remember because the next morning, she asked me if I'd come in and open the gallery while she went to the police station.'
    'The police station?  Did she say why?'
    Edwina shook her head.  'No, and I didn't want to appear nosey by asking.  Of course, it was while she was on her way there that she died.'  Edwina hesitated.  'I'm sorry, James.  The memory of that day still haunts me.'
    'Don't be.  I'm only glad you were here for her, Edwina.'  James glanced around the room.  ‘Perhaps if I’d taken more interest and not gone to Cyprus she might still be alive.’
    ‘That’s something you’ll never know.’  Edwina paused.  ‘Put it to rest, James.  Make a new start.  Louise loved you and she wouldn’t want you to go through life feeling this guilt.’
    James smiled.  ‘You’re the second person to say that to me this week.’
    ‘Then it must be the right advice.’
    Edwina took a deep breath and picked up the painting again.  ‘Well, let’s take a closer look at this now, shall we?’  She put her glasses on and moved the desk lamp over the painting.  ‘It looks to be quite old.  Eighteenth century, I’d say, but even so, it looks in fine condition and once cleaned, the colours will be more vibrant and, hopefully, will reveal the artist’s name.’  Edwina took her glasses off and looked up at James, smiling.  ‘There’s a fellow here in Sydney I use.  Albert Gilmore.  Would you be happy for me to ask him to do it?’
    ‘Yes, of course.’
    ‘Then leave it with me and I’ll be in touch when it’s finished.’
     
     
     
    James left the gallery and made his way to the university where the media presence, although smaller, still persisted.  He dodged passed them and into the building, where a constable stood on duty.  When he turned the corner in the hallway, he could see Vera Trenbath at the far end entering her office.  He found her at her desk.  ‘Vera, do you have a minute?  I'd like to speak to you.’
    ‘Yes, of course, James’.  An awkward silence followed, Vera’s usual loquaciousness absent.  ‘I’m sorry.  It’s just that it’s all been so dreadful.  I can’t think of what to say.’
    Vera pushed her keyboard back from the edge of the desk and James sensed the insecurity Alex’s death had created in a woman whose life revolved around the department.  A lonely life, he suspected.
    ‘You don’t have to say anything, Vera.’
    Vera nodded and gestured for James to sit down.
    ‘What will happen now, do you think, James?’
    ‘Well, Tristan Harrow will take over as chair of the department for the time being.’  Vera bristled.  ‘But other than that, I have no idea.'
    Vera shuffled the papers in front of her and James could see the problems her contrary disposition and Tristan’s need to make his mark as chair may cause.  He paused, anxious to change the subject.
    ‘Have the police spoken to you yet?’
    ‘Yes.  Twice.  That’s why I wasn’t here yesterday afternoon.  They wanted to speak to me again.  At the station this time.  I didn’t come back to the office afterwards.  I felt too drained.’
    ‘I’m sure they appreciate your help, Vera.’
    ‘Well, I’ve tried, James, but it hasn’t been easy.  I found him, you see.’  Vera looked past James as if reliving the event.  ‘I knocked on the door and went into his office as I have many times in the last ten years and there he lay on the floor.’  Vera took her handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed her nose.  James sensed her anxiety but, at the same time, the excitement that Alex’s death had created in her otherwise humdrum