Kennedy 04 - The Broken Circle by Shirley Wells Page A

could talk about the weather, the food, music and suchlike all day but Claire wouldn’t, or couldn’t, talk about anything on a deeper level.
    According to that inmate, there had been nothing more interesting than the local news on the television when Claire had hurled a chair at the set. The girl had been adamant that nothing distressing or even thought-provoking had been shown. Jill would watch a recording of it for herself. There must have been something shown to produce such a dramatic reaction.
    ‘A man from my village, Kelton Bridge, was murdered last Wednesday,’ Jill said. ‘I suppose you saw that on the news?’
    It was the only thing she could think of that would have been on last night’s news bulletin.
    ‘Yes. Some American, wasn’t it?’
    ‘That’s right. Someone clearly took a dislike to him. It’s very sad for his family. It’s always those left behind who suffer, isn’t it?’
    ‘Sometimes. But he won’t be suffering, will he?’
    ‘I don’t suppose he will. Not that he was suffering before,’ Jill pointed out. ‘It seems as if he had the perfect life. A beautiful wife, two clever sons, a lovely home in a village, plenty of money—a happy life.’
    ‘The beautiful wife and clever sons will be able to bury him. That’s all people care about, isn’t it?’
    ‘Not all,’ Jill said, ‘but yes, it helps if you can bury your loved ones. It brings closure. It allows you to move on. People like to visit the grave and feel close to those who are gone.’ She paused. ‘Wouldn’t you like to visit Daisy’s grave?’
    ‘What grave?’
    ‘You laid her to rest somewhere, Claire.’
    ‘Did I?’
    ‘Wouldn’t you like to visit the spot? Yes, I’m sure you would.’
    Claire just smiled at that.
    ‘You’re very lucky if you don’t need to visit Daisy’s resting place.’ Jill leaned back in her seat, watching every expression that flitted across Claire’s face. ‘You’ve been lucky all along, though, haven’t you? You were able to say goodbye to her. Her dad didn’t have that chance, did he?’
    ‘I didn’t say goodbye to her. And what does he care? He never cared about her like I did.’
    She meant he didn’t love her as much, but Claire couldn’t say the word love. It was alien to her.
    ‘Maybe not, but he did love her in his own way. Can’t you tell him where she is, Claire? Would it really be so awful if he could go and say goodbye to her?’
    Claire’s lips tightened into a thin line.
    ‘What do we have to do to find her, Claire? Dig up the whole country? Because we will find her, you know.’
    She smirked at that.
    ‘Of course, it wouldn’t be the whole country,’ Jill said casually. ‘You won’t have left her alone in a cold, dark building and you won’t have left her in a stretch of icy water. She’ll be somewhere peaceful. Somewhere beautiful. In death, you’ll have given her beauty. You couldn’t do that in life, could you, Claire?’
    ‘You don’t have a clue, do you?’ Claire scoffed.
    She was right about that.
    ‘Then tell me,’ Jill said urgently. ‘Explain it to me, Claire.’
    There was a long silence and Jill, breath suspended, thought that Claire might actually be thinking about telling her where she’d buried her daughter.
    ‘I thought I could tell you,’ she said finally, ‘but I don’t want him going near her. He’ll never touch her again.’
    ‘Who? Peter?’
    ‘It’s hours since the grub came and you can still smell it, can’t you?’ Claire said vaguely.
    Jill didn’t give a damn about the smell. She was intrigued by Claire’s last statement. Never touch her again . What the devil did she mean by that?
    ‘Tell me about Peter and Daisy,’ Jill pleaded.
    ‘What’s there to tell?’
    ‘He loved Daisy, didn’t he? He wouldn’t have harmed her.’
    ‘Peter? He’d have belted her when he got the drink in him. Just like he belted me.’
    Jill was going round in ever-decreasing circles. She’d talked and talked, yet she was