Jigsaw by Anthea Fraser Page B

had been murdered, and they wondered what skeletons you’d find in our closet.’
    Rona made a face. ‘What a reputation!’
    Up in her room, she ignored the reproachful laptop and settled in the armchair with the paper, finding the relevant paragraph on the third page of the main section. There was no byline, and it contained little more than Nuala had said. The front page was given over to the crime wave that had hit the town; someone had been attacked and mugged over the weekend, making it the second incident in as many days, and this time the victim had ended up in hospital.
    The rest of the paper covered a wide range of local-interest subjects including school concerts, the opening of a new supermarket and a batch of weddings. Conscious of the hours to fill until bedtime, Rona read every paragraph, ending with a reread of the one on herself. It would do no harm, she thought, to have a word with the reporter who had written it.
    She stood up, stretched, and leant on the window sill, looking out across the road to the garden beyond the wall.
    Immediately, however, she drew back; Gordon Breen was walking there with a blonde woman who was doubtless his wife. They seemed to be having an animated discussion on the flowers in the border, and Rona could hear the faint sound of their voices through the open window. She watched them for a moment, then reluctantly turned away and returned to the chair. It was only eight thirty, another hour before she could phone Max. If only she’d had Gus with her, she could have taken him for a walk, but she couldn’t be bothered to make the effort for herself. She’d spent most of the day walking round Buckford anyway. Perhaps, she thought ruefully as she retrieved her library book from her case, she’d been too quick to decline the offer of the kitchen TV.
    An hour or so later, just as Rona judged Max’s classes would have finished, Nuala tapped on her door. ‘I’ve spoken to my aunt and she says she’ll be pleased to see you. It’s possible, though, that she’ll have forgotten by tomorrow, so I’ll take you over and introduce you on my way to work.’
    Rona thanked her, assured her she had everything she needed, and, as the door closed behind her, took out her mobile.
    â€˜How’s Gus?’ she asked, when she’d filled Max in on her day.
    â€˜OK, but he’s obviously expecting you to arrive any minute to collect him. His ears prick every time someone walks past. He’ll be fine; I’m just about to take him out for a run.’
    â€˜There’s a snippet about me in the local rag,’ Rona said, and immediately wished she hadn’t.
    â€˜What did it say?’ Max’s voice had sharpened.
    â€˜Oh – just that I was going to add to the mass of writing about the octocentenary.’
    â€˜And no doubt happening to mention that you’d unmasked Theo Harvey’s killer?’
    â€˜Well, something along those lines.’
    â€˜God, when will people forget that? Just as well your local murderer’s safely behind bars.’
    â€˜This is an entirely different scenario,’ Rona assured him. ‘I’m not personally involved this time.’
    â€˜Mind you stay that way.’
    It was still early when they finished speaking, but Rona was tired after her long day. The bathroom was likely to be vacant at this time; she’d have a bath to relax her and take the chance of an early night.
    â€˜You said you’re on your way to work,’ Rona remarked, as she and Nuala walked the length of Parsonage Place and turned into the cobbled alleyway. ‘Is that the church cleaning?’
    â€˜Goodness no; there’s a rota for that, and I only do it once a month. I have a part-time job, temping for a secretarial agency. It’s varied and interesting, and as I only work nine thirty to twelve thirty, I’m home to cook lunch for Dad and be there when Will gets in.