Chapter 7 - Part III

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Susan looked up from the diary pages in her hand as the door to Best Books clicked open. A man in his forties slipped through the door wearing a short leather coat which was far too inadequate for the plummeting temperatures that they were currently enduring. He had a thick moustache and greying hair, and although he wasn't as thin around the waist as he'd probably once been, he looked good. He had been the first customer of the day and, apart from Martha, Susan was alone.

Pushing the diary pages deep into her pocket so that her fingers briefly caught the edge of her cold and constant companion, Susan smiled as the man made his way through the room to where she sat by the coffee machine.

"DC Frans," he said, before putting up his hands, "but don't worry, I'm not here in an official capacity. Is Martha Wittle here? I tried her at home, but she wasn't in."

Susan was caught off guard by the policeman appearing in her store. She was fully prepared that someone would almost certainly come to talk to her about the incident at the school. She feared that, though she hadn't been the perpetrator, she too was going to be the subject of ridicule for being on the premises in the first place. As Roberta had stated, she and Martha should have made an appointment to collect Vanessa's things and taken that opportunity to talk with Emily. Hindsight was a wonderful, if slightly damning, thing. Now however, there was a police officer in her store, not wanting to discuss that matter or even, it seemed, the death of her daughter, but instead wanting to speak to Martha.

"Martha," Susan called out. "You have a visitor."

A moment later, Martha appeared from behind one of the floor to ceiling shelves. She had a pile of books rested in the crook of her elbow, and as she came to the end of the row she popped one of them into its rightful place on the shelf.

"Karl?"

"Hello Martha, it's good to see you again." The man before Susan turned and smiled at Martha as she set her tower of books upon an end table and came over to the pair.

"What on earth are you doing here?" she questioned. "I thought you'd left Ridgewood for good."

Karl shrugged as he rubbed his hands together to stimulate some warmth into his freezing fingers.

"I had, but," he paused momentarily, "Martha, it's 10 years almost to the day. I heard about the murder and had to come back to see for myself."

Martha forced a smiled and motioned towards the coffee machine. "Karl, can I get you a cup? You look freezing. Oh, and this is Susan Lingly." She stressed Susan's name in an unmistakable tone as she swept behind where Susan was sat and turned on the coffee machine, which was normally in constant use. "I'm sorry, you'll have to bear with us. We've got a blocked flue, hence no fire. And, no fire means no customers and no coffee during the winter." She clicked the machine's button so that it whirred into life.

Susan knew something was instantly wrong. She had known Martha too long, and though her friend was being pleasant and hospitable to their guest, she'd already taken great lengths to lie. The pair of them had covered the fireplace with a large piece of MDF which Susan normally used for window displays. The opening to the chimney was now completely sealed so that, other than herself, Martha and Sam, no one knew of the gaping hole and ladder that led into the cellar.

Susan studied the pair of them for a moment before asking the question which she knew the answer to as soon as she'd asked it internally a few seconds before.

"What murder?"

Karl looked immediately uncomfortable.

"Martha, thanks for the offer, but we can do this another time."

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