The Perfect Daughter Read Online Free PDF Page B

there quietly.
    â€˜Good morning, sergeant. May I see your identification, please?’
    Bill was taller than the policeman and managed, in spite of the country tweeds, to radiate an air of authority. I suppose it came from cross-examining police witnesses in court. The sergeant stopped with his foot on the first stair. Gwen’s rush was checked just enough for me to grab her hand and squeeze it warningly.
    â€˜So who might you be, sir?’
    â€˜My name is William Musgrave. I’m a barrister.’
    The sergeant gave me a hurt look. Having lawyers ready on the scene wasn’t part of the game.
    â€˜Are you resident at these premises, sir?’
    Bill ignored the question. ‘Your identification, sergeant.’
    Reluctantly, the man unbuttoned his tunic pocket. Bill took his time checking the document and handed it back.
    â€˜Have you a search warrant?’
    I was still clutching it. I handed it to Bill who read it through slowly as if trying to memorise it, moving his lips as he read. I knew he was a fast reader who could take in documents at a glance, so it was a good act. It gave time for my heartbeats to slow down and Gwen to unclench her fists and move back to the table, even if she couldn’t stop herself glancing upstairs. It was all quiet up there.
    â€˜It all seems to be in order.’
    Bill handed the warrant back to me. Gwen looked betrayed. I think she hoped he might have found some flaw in it.
    â€˜So if you’ve no objection, sir, we’ll be getting on with our duty.’
    Bill stood back. The sergeant went upstairs, followed by the two constables. Their studded boots sounded like riveters in a shipyard.
    Bill said to me: ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t do more, Nell.’
    â€˜You tried.’
    I was grateful, but all my attention was on what was happening upstairs. I heard the sergeant’s steps stop on the landing, heard the bedroom door creak. Then Amy’s voice, trembling with fear and anger.
    â€˜Have some respect. There’s a sick woman in here.’
    Then a little gasp of pain. I found out later one of them had trodden on her toes – accidentally of course. The door creaked wider. Heavy steps approached the bed.
    â€˜Miss Price, your licence expired…’
    Then, silence. Not a word or a slither of a boot stud. A silence buzzing with amazement. Gwen looked at me then bent her head and crossed her arms on her chest, rocking backwards and forwards. The silence was broken by the sergeant’s voice.
    â€˜Where’s she gone?’
    Then a constable: ‘The window’s open, sir. She’s gone out of the window.’
    It was our turn to be surprised. Gwen looked at me – alarmed, questioning.
    Three pairs of boots came thudding down the stairs. The sergeant and constables rushed out of the front door in a blur of navy blue. I heard the sergeant yelling to somebody else, presumably the man they’d posted at the back door.
    â€˜Interesting,’ said Bill. ‘Do you think we might go out and see what’s happening?’
    Bill, Gwen and I followed them out on to the street. People were leaning out of windows, collecting in groups on the pavement, asking each other what was going on. All of them were looking up to the rooftops, although there was nothing to see but disturbed pigeons fluttering about. A gang of urchins who’d decided this was more interesting than the fairground were whooping and cheering. Our three policemen plus the one from round the back were standing in the middle of the road, also looking up. If the urchins’ cheers were for them they were doing nothing to deserve them. They stood at a loss, not noticing us. Then there was a louder whoop from the boys, and a shout of ‘There she is.’ I looked up where somebody was pointing. There was a chimney stack between my house and the next, with six chimneypots on it. A figure in a dark dress was standing on the stack, arm hooked