*
Laura sighed with relief when the call ended. Her irate caller was not pleased to have been stood up, and Laura had to promise not to be late or miss the new appointment later. In the wake of seeing Dr Cowan, she had forgotten all about the meeting. She and Dennis had spent the rest of the day trying to find the driver that had gone into the back of Dr Cowan’s car. She would not miss this second appointment. This meeting could be important, especially now that Alex Taylor was becoming worrisome.
Her behaviour this morning only confirmed Laura’s belief that Alex Taylor had a mental illness. Her concern was that she was still allowed to practice. But not for much longer, Laura imagined. She was on a slippery slope, and she was going to fall very soon.
Laura would make sure she got away in good time to be at the rescheduled meeting. She would text Dennis to cancel their date. While she was pleased that they were back on a friendly footing, a date was not a good enough a reason for missing it again. She needed to focus on her job.
She had a few hours spare before the meeting and would spend the time going through the Amy Abbott case files. She would check on anything that may have been missed; any leads that weren’t followed up that might have told them her whereabouts while she was missing. Wherever that induced abortion had taken place there would be blood. A lot of it. Amy Abbott had almost exsanguinated before arriving in the emergency department.
It wasn’t a murder investigation or even a missing person enquiry any more. Amy Abbott was dead and buried, and to all intents and purposes the case was closed. Greg would tell her she was time-wasting and that she should focus on the Lillian Armstrong case, but Laura hated loose ends and she couldn’t let go of the fact that it was Alex Taylor who had reported the death as suspicious. The post-mortem findings didn’t support this – death by misadventure was the coroner’s verdict. If it was murder it would be difficult to prove. Alex Taylor was certainly clever enough to murder someone and walk away free.
She was in Barbados when Amy Abbott went missing, but supposing she knew Amy Abbott from before, knew she was pregnant and in a depressed state. Alex Taylor may have given her refuge, let her use her flat while she was away and then returned home and set about causing her death. Amy Abbott was found five days after she went missing, but she died on the night after Taylor returned home from her holiday. Now all Laura had to do was find a connection between the two women. If she could prove Alex Taylor knew the dead nurse, then she would have reason to ask that the case be reopened.
Laura felt excited at the prospect. This could be her ticket to promotion – her path to a new life.
Chapter thirty-five
She saw the slim cardboard box leaning against her front door as she stepped out of the lift and set down her grocery bags. A scrap of blue paper was taped to the box and Alex saw a message had been left by her next door neighbour: ‘Came this afternoon, so I signed for it. Hope that’s OK. Trevor.’
She picked up the box and brought it into her apartment. She checked her mailbox and saw Christmas card envelopes. It was nearly Christmas and she still hadn’t even sent hers. She had done very little to prepare for the event, except to buy presents, which were still to be wrapped. She had no Christmas tree up and no special drinks or treats bought. Her home looked like it did on any normal day of the week – the leather sofas, glass coffee table and clutter-free floor. There was not even a photograph of her family in the living room to personalise the place. Patrick had said that the framed photographs she had of them needed changing, as they were too old-fashioned. She now realised how wrong he had been; you couldn’t create a home simply with furnishings – it needed to be loved and lived in, otherwise coldness crept into the corners.
Now she was alone. All she had was her work and an empty flat to come home to, but even that was compromised. Since this morning, the atmosphere at work had been thick with unspoken words. Everyone seemed to be avoiding her. Fiona seemed to be ever so busy whenever Alex tried to talk to her. Nathan barely spoke to her, unless it was about a patient. Everyone was wary of her. Things were going from bad to worse, and her boss was probably contemplating another meeting, only this time a formal one. She should never have said what she did to Caroline. She should have kept her own counsel, but lately all her actions seemed to be impulsive and, in the eyes of others, irrational. Caroline’s accident probably had nothing to do with her situation, and now, in her boss’s eyes, she appeared even more of a lunatic.
Inside the box, bubble wrap covered a framed picture. She could feel glass and see colours beneath the plastic. A description to go with the painting had been sent by the gallery, but no note from the sender. She unwrapped the picture and saw an image of a naked woman lying on a bed. The wall behind her was a bright, almost seaside blue. Her face was hidden from view by her arm as she reached out to the retreating figure. Alex loved it and guessed who it was from. She quickly opened her mail and found a Christmas card from Maggie. Her friend hadn’t signed it, but she knew the thoughtful message was from her:
‘Hope you like it. While I appreciate other versions of this painting, I think in this one Euan Uglow brings the lovely lady into modern times. Remember, Alex, not all men are bastards.’
Alex was astonished by Maggie’s thoughtfulness and generosity, and felt a little overwhelmed. Someone liked her. She was not entirely alone.
The knock on her front door startled her. Still wearing her coat and expecting her caller to be her neighbour making sure she got the parcel, she opened the door.
Nathan Bell was standing there, holding a tissue-wrapped bottle of wine. He held it up. ‘A small Christmas gift,’ he said in a reticent tone, looking awkward, as if unsure whether he was welcome.
‘Come in,’ she said, utterly amazed that he had called on her, that he even knew where she lived.
‘I got your address off Fiona – she said you wouldn’t mind.’
‘I don’t. How is she? She seemed to be too busy to talk to me at work.’
‘I think she’s a little worried about you. I thought she was seeing you after work. She said she was going to talk to you.’
Alex was puzzled. ‘She didn’t ask me. But as I say, we didn’t talk. She’s probably texted me and now thinks I’m ignoring her. Damn, I’ll have a look in a minute. But I’m pleased she gave you my address. I’m glad to see you.’
She showed him into her sitting room and was aware he was taking in every detail.
‘It’s not what I expected,’ he said.
‘What did you expect?’
‘Something more homely. Different. This is a little aseptic,’ he answered in his usual blunt fashion.
She didn’t take offence, because he was right. It was Patrick’s idea of a home, not hers.