The Final Curtain Read Online Free PDF Page A

my turn.’
    Timony Weeks narrowed her eyes, similar to her cat, and moved her head. She wasn’t quite sure how to take this statement. After a brief stare she bowed her head and began to talk, her voice softly modulated and expressive so Joanna could glimpse the actress beneath. ‘It was five o’clock this morning,’ she said precisely, the words carefully enunciated. ‘I was in the kitchen, rinsing out some cups, standing at the sink.’ She gave a sour glance towards the door. ‘Diana,’ her voice was sharp with accusation, ‘had left the kettle on the Aga late last night, which had made the room very steamy. The top window had been left open overnight to let the steam out but the glass had some condensation on it, so my vision to the outside was blurred. It was dark but I could see that the floodlights had come on. Obviously I couldn’t recognize anyone.’
    Joanna listened carefully to every word. So far Timony Weeks was a perfect witness. Logical, clear, precise and concise, giving all the detail that would be asked of her. Even as she was speaking in her soft, coherent voice, Joanna was realizing just how wrong she’d been in her original assumption. This was not a confused and intimidated old woman but someone with a very clear and sequential way of describing events. She was in full possession of her senses. Not
histrionic
but
lucid
. Was she to be believed?
    Joanna took careful notice of her choice of words, as Timony continued in a husky voice, ‘Through the open window I distinctly smelt cigarette smoke.’ She leant forward a little, in mute appeal, hands clasped together. ‘Someone, Inspector, was smoking just outside my kitchen window at five o’clock this morning.’
    Joanna’s thoughts had been tumbling around in her head but this statement was unequivocal, unmistakable. She couldn’t ignore it. And yet …
    â€˜You’ve called us out for that?’ Joanna couldn’t quite keep the exasperation out of her voice.
    Timony Weeks licked her lips, suggesting the first sign of nervousness or vulnerability since Joanna had arrived.
    Perhaps she was beginning to realize that she might not be believed. ‘I know you probably think I’m imagining all this but …’ She seemed to be struggling to find the right words to convince Joanna of the veracity of her statement. ‘Inspector Piercy,’ she said, leaning forward even further. ‘My second husband, Sol Brannigan, used to smoke. I never have liked the smell of tobacco so I made him smoke outside.’ She smiled, remembering. ‘Sol being Sol, a man who did not like being told what to do, resented that one small rule and, as a minor rebellion, he sometimes used to puff away just outside an open window, knowing full well that the smoke would waft in.’ Her eyes looked distant for a moment before fixing back on Joanna, the pupils small and earnest as though she was asking her to please believe this. ‘So, Inspector, I know
exactly
what it smells like when someone, just outside an open window, is smoking.’
    Joanna was silent. Again, this clear and concise account was hardly the paranoid ranting of an elderly lady. ‘Who did you think it was?’
    Timony appeared to freeze at the question. She did not have an answer off pat – or if she did she wasn’t prepared to share it.
    Joanna pursued her goal. ‘Did you think it might be your second husband? Is he still alive?’
    Timony licked dry lips. ‘I don’t know,’ she said dismissively. Joanna tucked the comment away for future consideration.
    â€˜Did you actually
see
anyone?’
    â€˜No,’ Timony said patiently. ‘As I have just explained, it wouldn’t have been possible. And if I had seen someone I would have given you a description.’ Now the blue eyes were fixed on hers with a penetrating sharpness that was disconcerting. ‘I have a