Nina had slumped left in the high chair and there was a thin line of white froth on her lips.
‘Darling,’ said Andrea, ‘what have you done?’
Chapter Thirteen
When Edward approached his own house, almost skidding off the road in his haste, he saw, to his surprise, three people waiting.
Flanking Wendy were two kindly looking men who had the beseeching look of priests at confession. They must be twins. Both wore jeans and trainers, and both sported navy blue jackets, as if they had rushed into work at the weekend. They had thinning hair, but the one on the right evidently dyed his, while the other had let his go prematurely white. It was one of few features which separated them. The lack of fat on them made their movements angular, suggesting marionettes mirroring each other, controlled from above by a left hand and a right. The twin on the left with the white hair was smiling warmly, but with an air of worry.
It was the brother to Wendy Wrigley’s right who stepped forward first.
‘I’m Charlie Hurst – this is Hubert.’
‘Hi,’ said Hubert, with the white hair. ‘A double-H, Hubert Hurst.’
‘Don’t ask about his middle name,’ said Charlie.
‘It’s Roger. So the initials are HRH,’ said Wendy, with an affectionate smile. ‘Somewhat regal.’
‘At school his nickname was Prince, of course,’ laughed Charlie. ‘Johnny was partly responsible for that.’ At the mention of their departed friend, all three of them became suddenly downcast and a fog of worry settled on the Hurst brothers again.
‘I am sorry for your loss,’ said Edward, even though the murder had been nearly two years earlier. ‘I didn’t know you were at school together,’ Edward continued. ‘I thought Wendy said university.’
‘Well, that was when we set up our gang, university medics.’ Hubert looked into the middle distance. He took half a step forward, as if he was stumbling and about to fall. ‘Our gang—’
‘Us, Pippa, Zirch, Johnny, a couple of others. It was the four of us who ended up in Devon,’ said Charlie.
Wendy put in: ‘And then disaster struck. I came here to find my tribe again.’
‘And we feel,’ continued Charlie, ‘so desperate to find out who or what or why. I mean, why would he bemurdered?’
Wendy said sharply, ‘Charlie, please!’
He gulped. ‘I know you hate the word.’
‘Hate is strong, but I do.’
‘Did Wendy say you were both medical consultants?’
‘I’m cancer, he’s dementia,’ said Hubert. ‘We work virtually next door to each other at Exeter General.’ He hopped left and right on his feet, a sign of nervousness.
Edward said, ‘Now I feel even worse about keeping you waiting.’
‘We wondered if you wanted us with you in the forest today,’ said Hubert. He and Charlie were both like priests, simultaneously elevated and humble. How keenly they were feeling the pain of this, the loss of their friend. If Wendy had been responsible, or even just a genuine suspect, the twins would not want anything to do with her. It reinforced Edward’s absolute conviction – her alibi was watertight because she was innocent.
The pain from the fatal shooting of Dr Jonathan Wrigley wasspreading like a stain. A mystery that would never be solved, unless he could untangle it for them.
He would try.
Wendy drove. The Hurst twins were persuaded she could handle the day without them.
‘I’m so sorry I forgot my commitment,’ Edward said when they were in the car. ‘Yesterday was chaos.’
‘Why?’
‘You didn’t hear about the accident at the pizza place?’
‘Oh, of course. Yes.’
