Bleak Spring Read Online Free PDF Page B

Weigall.”
    â€œCould you get her for me? I’d like to speak to her.”
    He followed Olive in to a phone in the front hallway. She dialled a number, introduced him, then handed him the phone. “Treat her gently.” Then she left him, a little coldly, he thought, as if he had suddenly turned into some sort of enemy.
    As soon as he spoke to Jill Weigall he knew that she was a girl on the edge of hysteria. “I was going to ask you to meet me at Mr. Rockne’s office—”
    â€œNo, no, I’ll be all right. I’ll meet you there—it’s something to do—”
    He wondered if she lived alone, but it was none of his business. When he hung up Angela Bodalle was standing beside him. He could smell her perfume, a subtle bouquet, and he wondered why anyone, coming to console a friend on the loss of her husband by murder, would bother to apply perfume. “If you are thinking of going through Will’s files, forget it. You can’t get an open warrant. You’ll have to name something specific you want.”
    â€œIs that free legal advice?”
    She looked at him appraisingly. “Inspector, are you looking to fight with me? I’d have thought we were both friends of Olive, that we’d be on the same side.”
    He backed down; he didn’t know why she irritated him. Perhaps it was no more than that she was a lawyer. “Righto. In the meantime I have to get some helpers . . .” He called the Maroubra station, spoke to Carl Ellsworth. “Have you come up with anything since last night?”
    â€œWe set up a van near the surf club. We’ve been trying to trace everyone who had their cars in the car park. There were four hundred people in the social club last night. Not counting the staff and the entertainers.” Ellsworth sounded peeved, as if everyone should have spent Saturday night at home watching television. Preferably The Bill, the British series that showed how tough life was for cops. “Oh, Sergeant Clements is here, he wants to speak to you.”
    Good old Russ: on the job, starting at the starting point. “I think the boys here have got everything under control, Scobie. It’s gonna be the usual slog, unless they come up with a witness who saw everything. Where d’you want me to meet you?”
    â€œI’m going down to Rockne’s office—” He turned to Angela Bodalle, who was still shadowing him. “What’s the address?”
    She gave it to him. “I’ll come with you.”
    Malone gave the address to Clements. “If Carl Ellsworth has anything for me, bring it with you.”
    He hung up, gestured for Angela to go ahead of him and followed her into the living room, where the family was now congregated. It was a large room, but had the narrow windows of the period when the house had been built; Olive had attempted to lighten it with a pale green carpet, green and yellow upholstery on the chairs and couch, and yellow drapes. The only dark note in it this morning was the family. They all looked at him, the intruder, and not for the first time he wondered why the voters bothered to call the police, why they didn’t clear up their own messes.
    â€œWill you let me know if you find anything?” Olive sat between Shelley, her thirteen-year-old daughter, and Mrs. Carss. The tableau suggested the three ages of a Carss woman: the resemblance between them all was remarkable. They had another common feature: shock.
    â€œI’ll come with you,” said Jason, unwinding himself like a jeans-clad insect from a chair.
    â€œThere’s no need,” said his mother. “Angela has said she’ll go down with Mr. Malone—”
    â€œMother—” The boy was treating his mother almost formally, as if to mask his defiance. “Now Dad is dead, I’m the man of the house. I better get used to whatever I’ve gotta do.”
    His sister frowned and screwed up her