Smoke and Mirrors Read Online Free PDF Page B

cars were marooned in mounds of snow and only criss-crossing lines of footprints broke the whiteness. As he approached Mark’s parents’ house, a sledge shot past him containing two yelling children. Edgar watched them sourly, envying them their carefree enjoyment of the snow. Did they know that two children were missing, possibly buried under this magical winter wonderland? Did they care? He plodded on, Russian hat pulled down over his ears.
    Mark’s mother took a step backwards when she saw the fur hat on her doorstep.
    ‘Mrs Webster?’ Edgar hurried to remove it. ‘Detective Inspector Edgar Stephens. We met yesterday. There’s no more news,’ he said hastily, seeing her face, ‘but I just wondered if I could ask you a few questions. Is your husband in?’
    ‘He’s gone up to the race hill to join in the search,’ said Mrs Webster. ‘The army are up there, you know.’
    ‘Yes, I know.’
    ‘And it’s stopped snowing. That should make things easier.’
    ‘Yes, it should.’ Edgar offered to take off his wet shoes. At least if he was stooping to undo the laces, he could avoid seeing the desperate hope in Edna Webster’s eyes.
    ‘Don’t bother, honestly. Reg and his mates have been tramping in and out all day.’ Reg was her husband, a bus driver.
    Edgar sat opposite Edna in the tiny front room. A large photograph of Mark smiled at them from the mantelpiece. He was an only child.
    ‘We tried for such a long time to have a baby,’ Edna told him. ‘And we just weren’t blessed. But then Mark came along.’
    Edgar tried not to think about what it would mean to this woman if her precious, miracle child had been killed. He wondered about the word ‘blessed’. Were the Websters religious? There were no crucifixes or signs of Catholic regalia around but maybe they belonged to one of those dour Nonconformist sects.
    ‘I just wanted to talk to you about Mark,’ said Edgar. ‘We’re building up a picture of the children and any little thing you can tell us might be helpful. I understand Mark is quite a shy boy.’
    ‘Yes.’ Edna’s hands twisted a cushion as she spoke. She looked like a woman who never sat with her hands still. Edgar’s mother was the same.
    ‘Reg used to get impatient sometimes because he wasn’t one for the rough and tumble. He didn’t like football and boxing and what have you. He liked reading.’
    She said it like it was something shameful. Edgar smiled encouragingly. ‘I liked reading as a boy too, Mrs Webster.’ Although he might have liked some rough and tumble if the chance had come his way.
    ‘When did Mark and Annie become friends?’ he asked.
    ‘Oh, they were friends since kindergarten,’ said Edna proudly. ‘Annie took him under her wing from the start.’
    ‘Under her wing?’
    ‘Some of the bigger boys used to bully Mark because he wore glasses but Annie always stuck up for him. She’s a feisty little thing. And so clever.’
    ‘Mark must be clever too,’ said Edgar. ‘He got into the grammar school.’
    ‘Oh, that was Annie,’ said Edna. ‘She carried him through the eleven-plus. She was so determined that he wouldn’t be left behind.’
    He wasn’t left behind, thought Edgar. Annie had always taken Mark with her, even on that fateful day. Maybe it would have been better for him if Annie hadn’t carried him along in her slipstream. Maybe even now he’d be sitting safely at home with his mother.
    ‘I understand they like to put on plays,’ he said.
    ‘Oh yes,’ said Edna. ‘They do them at Uncle Brian’s house. He’s got a proper little theatre in his garage. You ought to see it.’
    ‘I have,’ said Edgar. He paused. Edna obviously didn’t see anything sinister in the connection with ‘Uncle’ Brian and he didn’t want to put the thought in her head. All the same, there were questions he had to ask.
    ‘Do you know Brian Baxter well?’ he said at last.
    ‘Not very well,’ said Edna. ‘I went to his house last summer to see a play