End in Tears Read Online Free PDF Page A

her,” he said. “Just as she was at that age.”
    He was holding a framed photograph in his hands. He thrust it at Wexford. “Isn’t he the living image of his…his mother?”
    Wexford looked at the pictured face of a young saint seeing visions. “Yes. Yes, he is. He’s a lovely little boy.” He added, “She was beautiful.” The expression on Diana Marshalson’s face almost shocked him. If he had had to describe it he would have called it exasperated. Perhaps she had heard rather too much lately of how beautiful Amber had been and how good-looking Brand was.
    He introduced himself, and put in a word of sympathy. “Do you feel up to answering a few questions, Mr. Marshalson?” he asked.
    â€œOh, yes. I must, I know that.”
    â€œThis is Detective Inspector Burden who is a senior officer in my team. Mrs. Marshalson, if you wouldn’t mind leaving us for, say, fifteen minutes and then I’ll come and talk to you, if I may.”
    She picked up Brand and once more slung him onto her right hip. It was a very convenient way, Wexford thought, for a woman to carry a child—difficult for a straight-up-and-down man—but, unlike a hug or a piggyback, it allowed few opportunities for demonstrative affection. Sitting there, the little boy couldn’t lay his cheek against hers or she hold him close against her breast. Did he miss his mother? He must. Insofar as he could, he must have asked where she was. Then Wexford remembered from the morning his saying, “Mama, Mama.”
    â€œSit down, why don’t you?” said Marshalson in an empty voice.
    â€œThank you. I am sorry I have to question you at such a time but I’m afraid it’s inevitable. What time did you expect your daughter home last night, Mr. Marshalson?”
    â€œI didn’t exactly expect her at any particular time,” he said. “I knew she’d get a lift home. Well, say, I thought she’d be in by two.”
    Wexford struggled hard to stop himself showing violent disapproval. Burden didn’t struggle at all and showed it plainly. “Was this a frequent occurrence?”
    â€œAmber had left school—well, sixth form college. She left after she’d done her A levels. She went back to school after Brand was born.” His voice wavered and cracked, and he cleared his throat. “Her A level results have come. They came in the post this morning, three As and a B. She could have gone to Oxford.” The tears came into his eyes and shone there. “I thought…I thought it was hard on her, stopping her going out to enjoy herself after what she’d been through.”
    â€œBeen through?”
    Wexford shot his friend a warning look, which Burden took care not to see.
    â€œBecoming pregnant, I mean, and having the baby. And then breaking up with her boyfriend. Well, seducer is what I call him. Corrupter.”
    â€œWould that be Brand’s father, Mr. Marshalson?”
    â€œOh, yes, there was never anyone else,” said Marshalson, defending his dead daughter. “It’s my belief he raped her. Well, the…the first time—if there were other times, which I doubt.”
    As if parents knew…“May we have his name?” This was Burden, struggling, Wexford could tell, to keep a puritanical distaste out of his voice. “Is he a local?”
    â€œHe’s called Daniel Hilland and he’s a student at Edinburgh University, but of course he won’t be up there now, as it’s the long vacation. His parents live locally, in Little Sewingbury. I’ve got their phone number somewhere.”
    â€œDon’t trouble, sir. We’ll find it. Now how about the friends Amber met last night? And the one who brought her to the end of the road. If we could just have their names we’ll leave you in peace.”
    â€œPeace!” said Marshalson and the floodgates of speech opened. Tears poured down