Gentill - Crossing the Lines

Copyright 2017 by Sulari Gentill

First E-book Edition 2017

ISBN: 9781464209178 ebook

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.

The historical characters and events portrayed in this book are inventions of the author or used fictitiously.

Poisoned Pen Press
4014 N. Goldwater Boulevard, #201
Scottsdale, Arizona 85251

www.poisonedpenpress.com

Her doctor gave her antibiotics, some pamphlets, and a speech on grief, loss, and depression. Madeleine smiled and told him she was fine. She was only ten weeks along after all. She stopped by the garden centre on the way home and bought box hedges and a weeping cherry tree, a cement plinth and a statue to sit upon it. A sleeping cherub, a fat Botticelli baby. She shook her head, mortified by the fact that she was turning into a clich. God, how embarrassing. But still, she wanted the statue.

They delivered her purchases that afternoon and she began to build the garden. A secret memorial so the poor small thing would know it was grieved a little at least. But no one else must know because this was silly.

Ned.

Willows voice pulled Edward from Madeleines garden. She looked tired and frightened as she stood at the desk signing forms. Bourke loomed beside her, pointing to the places on the form which required her signature.

Is this where you tell me not to leave town, Detective? she askeda forced facetiousness, a brittle bravado.

Edward put his arm around her. Will, are you all right?

Bourke left them to it. It was only then she broke down, burying her face in Edwards shoulder so the desk sergeant would not see.

Edward said nothing, manoeuvring her out of the station in the protection of his arms. Outside he gave her his handkerchief.

Madeleine lingered over the gesture, the fact that a man of his age even carried a handkerchief. There was something archaically gallant about the way he handed it to her, like the old-fashioned manner in which he cursed. She wondered where that came from. There was a sense to Edward McGinnity that seemed to run counter to the past shed given him. She pondered what she didnt yet know.

Edward took Willow to a quiet restaurant. He ordered tea and all the desserts on the menu. The waiter asked only if theyd like the desserts served on a single tray. Edward nodded. Wed better have some ice cream in the middle.

Naturally, sir.

Madeleine laughed, aware she was romanticising her protagonist ludicrously. Who wouldnt fall in love with a man whod order all the desserts on offer? That on its own made Edward McGinnity irresistible.

Willow began with the chocolate mousse, Edward the citrus-almond cake on his side of the tray. She told him about the interrogation then, the endless questions, repeated and restructured so she became confused and tongue-tied.

They think I pushed him, Ned.

Godwhy?

They found part of his review of my show in the stairs, a torn fragment of a draft.

So?

They say he showed me the reviewthat I got angry, tore it up, and pushed him down the stairs. Willow cut the brandied pear in half and pushed one section towards Edward. Detective Bourke kept promising I could say it was an accidentthat I didnt intend for him to fall. I just got so flustered

Edward swallowed his share of the pear. Why didnt you ask for a lawyer, Will?

I dont know. Her voice was hoarse. I didnt want to seemI dont know. Who would I have called, Ned? I dont know any lawyers.

You would have called me and I would have done the rest. Well find you a lawyer today. Ill ring Andy.

Isnt he overseas? Willow reminded Madeleine of what shed written before.

Yes, but hes due back in a day or two. At the very least hell be able to give us the name of someone to call.

Ned, we cant afford

I can, so you can.

Elliot wouldnt like

I dont care.

Ned

Will, he wouldnt even come to the station.

I told him not to.

Edward took a breath, stopped himself before he broke and told her that Elliot was beneath her, that he did not deserve her. Will, you should have a lawyer. Well come to some arrangement about the money. Do this for me. I need to know that youve got the best representation possible.

I didnt do anything, Ned.

I know. A good lawyer will be able to make sure its sorted out quickly, without your name ending up in the papers. He flinched a little as he said the last, thinking of the reporter from the day before. It might already be too late for that.

They argued about the lawyer through a rhubarb clafoutis and the vanilla bean pana cotta, but the crme caramel saw Willow give in as Edward knew she would. He saw from the beginning that she was scared beyond pride.

Willow considered the demolished remains of the tray of desserts. Call Mr. Finlay, she said. Ask if hell speak to me as soon as I come out of my sugar-induced coma.

Edward nodded. Itll be all right, Will.

I dont want to talk about this anymore. She wiped her eye with the heel of her hand. Tell me about your book. How are you and your crime-writer finding each other?

Were rubbing along.

Tell me, is she terribly macabre? Does she read the obituaries for research?

Hmmm, hadnt thought of that. Perhaps she should.

Madeleine smiled at the thought. People always assumed obituaries contained much more detail about the manner of the deceaseds passing than they actually did.

Willow shook her head. Oh, Ned, its a good thing youre single.

What? Why? Edward contemplated being offended.

Well, look at you! Youre completely smitten with a figment of your imagination. A real woman wouldnt have a chance.

Edward laughed. Shes married. Even my figment is married.

You could write an end to that. Kill him off or something. Willows eyes gleamed wickedly. You could have her do him in herself.

Shes the crime-writer, not me, Edward said, though he knew she was teasing him. Besides, she loves him. Its important that she loves him.

But does her husband love her?

Yes, but I think not enough.

Madeleine stopped, staring at the screen. What made him say that, what made her think that? She highlighted the text but faltered at pressing delete. It was what hed said. She couldnt unthink it now.

Im afraid thats usually the case. Willow frowned. She rubbed his sleeve. Its lovely to see that look in your eye again, Ned. I havent seen it that strong since Sentience .

It was only then that Edward remembered he hadnt told her about the change in his first novels fortunes. He put right the oversight, and she cheered and celebrated completely, despite the trouble in her own life. And he loved her more.

Madeleine closed her eyes, languishing in the way he looked at the young artist. Did men look at women like that in real life, or was she conjuring something wishful and impossibly romantic in the heart of Edward McGinnity? Had anyone ever looked at her like that? She pulled her mind from that thought, lest it take hold.

Madeleine closed the laptop, blanching as she checked her watch. She was going to be late.

Tearing into the bedroom she exchanged her writing pyjamas for jeans, a pinstriped blouse, and her navy jacket. Not an exciting outfit, but reliable. On good days it suited her, on bad days it didnt look awful.

She pulled her car out of the drive and turned left towards Warradale, about an hours drive away. The road was quiet as country roads tend to be, though there were places where experience told her to be vigilant for roos or wallabies intent on meeting an untimely end by leaping across in front of the only car that may have come that way in hours.