A Door in the River Read Online Free PDF Page A

wasn’t even a year since a murder spree had come to its climax under this very roof. A mild-mannered psychotic named Simon Mallick had been crossing the country killing the terminally ill, seemingly at their invitation. He got all the way to
this
house and the mild-manneredness had worn off him by then: he staved in the head of one of Emily’s oldest friends, Clara Winchester. It was no wonder Emily hadn’t looked particularly well since they’d come back to this house. But really, Hazel had to admit to herself, her mother looked even worse than a woman who’d been through what she’d been through.
    Emily was sleeping in front of the television when Hazel got in from Kehoe Glenn at six o’clock on Tuesday night. The kitchen was dark: nothing had been readied for supper. She decided to let her mother sleep and she cracked four eggs into a bowl and mixed them with a dash of cream and nutmeg. She fried onions and mushrooms in butter and then poured the egg mixture in. The smell of onions woke her mother and Emily shuffled into the kitchen looking bleary. “Did you turn off the TV?” she asked.
    “It’s past six, you know. You were asleep.”
    “No I wasn’t.”
    “I just got in, Mum. You were snoring.”
    Emily sat down at the kitchen table, hovering over a chair before dropping into it. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
    Hazel dished the meal out onto two small plates and put some bread in the toaster. Her mother refused a slice and picked at the eggs. “I think maybe we should go see Dr. Pass, Mum. You’re flat, you know? Maybe he can suggest some vitamins.”
    “There’s nothing wrong with me that can’t be fixed by a facelift and a bottle of whiskey.”
    “I’m serious.” Hazel slid half her mother’s supper off onto her own plate, like she used to with the girls. The toast popped up and she dropped two dry pieces into the basket on the table. “Finish what’s on your plate and you can be done.”
    “Don’t talk to me like I’m an invalid,” Emily said, and she pushed the meal away.
    Hazel took both of their plates to the sink and washed them. Perhaps her grief over what had happened here was the reason for her lethargy, but Hazel suspected it was deeper than that. Her colour was wrong. “Listen,” she said, “we don’t have to stay here, you know. I can sell the place, we could get an apartment in town. This place is too big for us, anyway.”
    “You think I should be in a home.”
    “I don’t.”
    Emily
humphed
and picked at a piece of toast in the basket. “Maybe we should both be in a home.”
    “Our own home, Mum. Whether it’s here or somewhere else, but I don’t think either of us has to be alone. God knows if the home for spry annoyances would take you now, anyway. With the spring going out of your step and all.”
    “I’ll grant you that my step is more spongy than springy these days, Hazel. But so will yours be when you’re eighty-seven. Just promise me the day before you want to put me in a home you’ll leave me alone in the house for an hour.”
    “So you can gravely, but not mortally, wound yourself with a firearm you won’t be able to lift all the way to your head, Mother? Don’t worry, I’ll shoot you first if it comes to that.”
    Finally, her mother smiled. “You were always such a romantic when you were a girl, Hazel. You so rarely show that side of yourself these days.”
    The following morning, as soon as she walked into the station house, Wingate flagged her down. “Jack Deacon’s on the phone. All excited about stinging insects.”
    “Excellent,” she said. “Ask Melanie to patch him through to the thingy.” She hung her coat on its hook. “Aren’t you leaving today?” The phone rang a moment later and she punched the speaker button.
    “Thursday,” Wingate said.
    “Thursday?” Deacon repeated in the speaker.
    “James is taking his first vacation since arriving in Westmuir. Nine months without so much as a long weekend.”
    “I don’t like