Chapter Forty-Three

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Melissa was on the doorstep for a couple of minutes before a light came on in the passage; she had to wait another couple of minutes for the door to open, and the moment it did she burst into tears.

She felt vaguely ashamed at collapsing emotionally, but that disappeared as her grandmother stepped out of the house and wrapped comforting arms around her. They remained like that for a minute or so, until her sobs subsided, and then Melissa allowed her grandmother to lead her into the house and down the passage to the kitchen, where she was pressed into a seat at the table. She put the batch of papers she had brought with her on the table, but that was as much as she could bring herself to do, after that she simply sat there, her cheeks wet with tears as she stared ahead, looking at nothing.

"Here, drink this." Constance pushed a glass into her granddaughter's hand and then guided it to her lips.

Melissa gasped as the strong liquor burned its way down her throat. She hadn't realised what it was she was being given to drink until it was too late to worry about. Now, though, she knew it was some of her grandfather's favourite whiskey, which her grandmother kept around for special occasions and emergencies, and this was definitely an emergency. The second sip went down a little easier than the first, though it still burned and made her eyes sting with tears that had nothing to do with grief.

"Do you feel any better now?" Constance asked once Melissa had finished the whiskey.

"A little," Melissa said. Now that she was more with it, she could see that her grandmother's eyes were puffy and red from her own tears and she reached out to take her hand. "How are you?"

There was a period of hesitation before Constance answered the question. "I've been better. As you get older you think nothing can shock you, and you can cope with anything, even the death of those near to you; somehow, though, life has a way of proving you wrong. I can't believe Daisy's gone," she said. "She was so young. Too young to die, especially like that." She closed her eyes for a moment and took a couple of deep breaths.

Melissa gave her grandmother's hand a quick squeeze, and then released it so she could get to her feet and put the kettle on. She barely had a chance to pick it up before her grandmother recovered, as much as she was going to just then. "Is this that thing you were going to do, everything that's happened since Georgina went missing?" Constance asked, pulling the small stack of papers across the table so she could take a look.

Melissa nodded as she filled the kettle from the tap. "It's not finished, though; I haven't had a chance to add everything..." She had to stop for a few long seconds to collect herself before she could go on. "Everything that's happened today, especially tonight."

"Well then, you just sit yourself down and finish it, I'll make the tea," Constance said. She got to her feet and took the kettle from her granddaughter's hand, she then nudged her towards the table while she set about preparing the pot and their cups. "I called your parents after I heard what happened."

"What did they say?" Melissa asked. She couldn't help wondering if her parents were going to come back to the village as a result of her cousin's death – she couldn't bring herself to use the word murder, even in her mind, because she was sure it would make her break down again; her parents hadn't returned to Oakhurst since leaving the village several years before, when her father got a job in London.

Constance returned to the table while she waited for the kettle to boil. "Theresa will be here sometime today; she couldn't say when but she thinks it will be before lunchtime. Your father..." She hesitated for a moment, which was as close as she came to showing disapproval for the man her daughter had married; it wasn't that she disliked Eric Turner, she just thought him more interested in work than in people, even family. "Your father will be here for the funeral, once he knows when that will be, but he apparently has a couple of meetings he can't get out of today, and too much work that he can't afford to leave."

The news upset Melissa a little, though it wasn't unexpected. She was pleased – as pleased as she could be under the circumstances – that her mother was going to be around, but she would have liked her dad to be there as well; she had only seen him a couple of times since her parents moved to London, and both times she had had to all but force him to spend time with her. She would have liked to think he could put work aside to help support his family through a difficult time.

"Where's mum going to stay?" Melissa asked. "Does she want me to make up the spare room?" It only occurred to her then that she hadn't checked her phone to see if anyone had tried to call or text since she was given the news of her cousin's murder.

Constance shook her head as she filled the teapot and brought it over to the table. "She's going to stay here. I've got the space, and it will be easier than putting you to any trouble."

Melissa was a little relieved by that; as much as she wanted to have her mum in the spare room, close by, it would have felt a little awkward, for the house she lived in had belonged to her parents until they moved.

It took Melissa until after two in the morning to bring her account of events up to date, at which time her grandmother read it. Despite the hour, neither of them thought about going to bed, they were both sure they would only lie awake, thinking about Daisy, and what she must have gone through as her life was taken from her. Melissa was especially keen not to have the time or the opportunity to think about it since she had seen Georgina's body, and so was more aware of what her young cousin had almost certainly endured.

Instead of trying to sleep, they did whatever they could think of to keep themselves occupied, both physically and mentally. In Constance's case that meant filling the kitchen with the heavenly aroma of fresh-baked cakes and biscuits, enough to fill a shop; Melissa's way of distracting herself was to finish the chronology, and then to make herself more than a little sick by eating her way through as much of what her grandmother had baked as she could, which still left a significant amount for someone – about half the village it seemed – to eat.

"Is this everything that's happened?" Constance asked once she made it through the last page of what her granddaughter had written. Ordinarily she would have been tired after reading something past eight in the evening, on that occasion, however, she didn't think anything short of a sleeping pill would get her eyes to close. When Melissa nodded, she asked another question, "Lewis really tried to strangle Mr Wild?"

"He didn't just try, he nearly succeeded," Melissa said. "I was so shocked by it, on top of everything else that happened tonight, I didn't know what to do, I just stood there like an idiot. It's just as well one of the nurses came in, and then a couple of others, with one of the security guards; if they hadn't shown up, I think I'd have had to arrest Mitchell for murder. As it is, if Mr Wild makes an official complaint, and I'm sure he will, I'm going to have to arrest him for assault, maybe even attempted murder." She sighed more heavily than she had ever sighed in her life; events in the village were bad enough, but it seemed as though Mitchell was determined to make things worse than they needed to be.

"At least you don't have any doubts about what the right thing to do in that situation is," Constance remarked. She was as shocked by what Mitchell had done as Melissa, and could only imagine how much more shocking it must have been to witness the incident. "Have you made up your mind about any of the things that were troubling you before?"

"Not entirely," Melissa admitted. "Mr Wild is apparently the same blood-type as the killer, but he has an alibi for when Emily was attacked, most likely attacked," she amended. "If his alibi is true, and it almost certainly is, I don't see how he could be the killer." She gave a quick shake of her head and then she went on. "The only things I'm certain of right now are that Sergeant Mitchell can't be allowed to stay in charge of the case; even if Mr Wild is the killer, the way Mitchell's acted is going to put the case against him in trouble; and more attention should have been paid to the possibility that Kieran Wright is the killer. He might not be, but Mitchell hasn't even considered the possibility that he might be, let alone looked into it."

"What are you going to do about it?"

"Speak to the inspector first thing," Melissa said, she couldn't think of anything else she could do.

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