Mary's Prayer Read Online Free PDF Page B

‘I don’t know what went on, but I know he killed her. She wouldn’t do that to herself. Even if he
     didn’t actually pull the trigger, morally he brought about her death.’
    ‘But you could never prove that in a court of law.’
    ‘You know I couldn’t.’
    ‘What did the police say about all this?’
    ‘The usual. Tragic waste. That’s all.’
    ‘Didn’t they find the fact that she supposedly shot herself a bit suspicious? Where would a legal secretary have got a shotgun
     from?’
    ‘Mary told me once that her husband used to enjoy shooting – rabbits, birds, anything that moved. He was that kind of guy.
     The police did mention that he didn’t hold a current firearms certificate, so they couldn’t prove it was his. But he was in
     the army years ago, I’m surehe’d have known where to get hold of a gun on the cheap. When he left Mary it happened in such a hurry that he left most of
     his possessions behind. I suppose Mary just kept the gun. Perhaps it made her feel safer – a woman on her own – to have one
     in the house.’
    ‘So why do you want me to find out if Terry did it? And if I do find out – what then?’
    ‘I don’t know. I just want justice to be done.’
    Larkin drained his glass and sighed. ‘This is crazy, you know that? You want me to look for a metaphysical murderer.’
    ‘Stephen, she was my friend. I may have lost her before she died, but I still loved her. I just have to
do
something, that’s all. Please. It … it would mean a lot to me.’
    She touched his hand; Larkin looked at her, ghosts dancing behind his eyes as he gazed into hers, deep and dark enough to
     drown in. She held his gaze. ‘
Please
.’
    He tried to postpone the inevitable. ‘Have you been to a private detective about this?’
    ‘No. I don’t know any good ones that aren’t connected with my company. I wanted to keep this as secret as possible.’ Her eyes
     bored straight into him again. ‘Stephen, I know it’s painful, and I wouldn’t ask you if I had any alternative, but you were
     the best. It’s asking a lot, and I’m the last person you’d probably want to do a favour for – but it’s important.’
    He had known all along he’d say yes. What he didn’t know was why. ‘All right.’
    Charlotte lit up. ‘So you’ll do it?’
    ‘Yes. But I can’t spend too much time on it. I’ve got a proper assignment as well.’
    ‘That’s no problem! And I’ll pay you for your time, of course.’
    ‘What about the hunky Charles? What will he say about all this?’
    She hesitated, then went on. ‘He needn’t know. Anyway, he’s away at the moment. Business.’ The lastbit was spat out with distaste; Larkin decided not to push it.
    ‘Has she got an address, this Mary? And a surname?’
    ‘Yes. I’ve written it down for you.’ So she must have been very certain he’d accept. She rummaged in her handbag, producing
     a neat little business card. That was something else Larkin remembered about Charlotte; she had the neatest handbag of any
     woman he’d ever known. ‘That’s my card. The address is on the back. It’s in Low Fell.’
    Larkin took it, read the front. ‘Nicholson Griffin Harwood And Howe?’
    Charlotte smiled wryly. ‘Bit of a mouthful, isn’t it?’
    Larkin pocketed the card. ‘How do I get in?’
    ‘Here’s a key.’ She handed it over.
    ‘You carry this around with you?’
    She reddened. ‘No. I … said I’d clear up anything to do with her work. She used to take work home, so …’
    ‘How about family?’
    ‘Couple of brothers, I think. She hardly ever saw them. One lives over in Cumbria somewhere – the older one – and the other’s
     in Darlington. Married, I think. They’re supposed to be clearing the house out.’
    ‘What about the policeman in charge of the investigation?’
    ‘Moir. Detective Inspector Henry Moir.’
    ‘I’ll have to talk to him as well.’
    A cloud passed over Charlotte’s face. ‘You can try, but I think you’ll be