Waiting for Wednesday

a forced entrance.
They had some kind of a struggle in the hall, then went into the bedroom where the
victim was bludgeoned to death with a weapon as yet unfound. The perpetrator must have
got splashed with the victim’s blood and he wiped himself with the cloth and flung
it into the bin. I take it he was feeling unsteady by then. He leaned against that wall,
leaving several very satisfactory fingerprints. Then he left.’ Tate beamed at
them. ‘There.’
    ‘And the fingerprints belonged
to?’
    ‘Russell Lennox.’ Tate’s
triumphant smile faded. ‘Aren’t you impressed?’
    ‘No, I’m sorry. I really am. But
there’s being careless and there’s being really careless.’
    ‘You know all about that, Mal.
Murderers are almost always in an almost psychotic state because of the stress.They suffer memory loss. I’ve found wallets, jackets at crime
scenes.’
    ‘You’re right,’ said
Karlsson. ‘I’m not going to say no to a clear result.’
    ‘You’re welcome,’ said
Tate.



FORTY-SEVEN
    When Frieda and the Lennox children had
arrived at her flat, it was far from the calm place of refuge she had wanted for them.
Instead, it felt like a battle zone. Shoes of all shapes and sizes lay in the hall, with
coats piled up by the banisters; bags and satchels, spilling their contents, led into
the living room. Music was playing loudly. The air was thick with the smell of cooking:
onions, garlic, herbs. She had to pause for a moment and take a few deep breaths. She
felt as if she had led them all on stage. She heard loud voices, the rattle of glasses,
like a party. As she stepped into the living room, Josef and Chloë looked up. She saw
the bottle of wine on the table, the glasses, a bowl of nuts.
    ‘It’s all right,’ said
Chloë. ‘Reuben’s making supper. I thought it would be nice for you not to
think about it for once. He says it’s his speciality. Oh, hi, Ted!’ She
blushed and smiled.
    Then the door opened and Reuben peered
round, his face flushed and beaming. Drunk, thought Frieda. Drunk as a lord.
    ‘Hello, Frieda. I thought we all
needed a slap-up meal and since you won’t come to me I thought –’ He noticed
the Lennoxes bunched in a corner, dazed and scared. ‘Sorry. I didn’t
realize. You must be the poor kids whose mother died.’
    ‘Yes,’ said Judith, faintly.
Dora started to snivel.
    ‘Very tough,’ said Reuben.
‘Very very very tough.’ He lurched a bit. ‘I’m so
sorry.’
    ‘Thank you.’
    ‘But for now, I’ve made enough for
an army. The more the merrier. And the food is ready.’ He gave a sweeping bow and
winked at Judith.
    ‘I don’t think it’s the
right night,’ Frieda said firmly. ‘We need to have a bit of quiet here.
I’m sorry.’
    His expression curdled. He glared at her and
raised his eyebrows, ready to pick a fight.
    ‘Don’t be mean, Frieda!’
Chloë was indignant. ‘He’s been working for
hours
on this. You
don’t mind, do you, Ted?’ She put a hand on his shoulder and he stared at
her with stupefied eyes.
    ‘Nah. It’s OK,’ he said
listlessly. ‘It doesn’t really matter one way or another.’
    ‘I don’t think –’ began
Frieda.
    ‘Great!’
    Josef had already laid the table with
unfamiliar plates that Frieda never used. He must have found them at the back of a
cupboard. But when he laid them out on the table, it added to her impression that she
was a guest in her own house and a stranger in her own life. He filled tumblers with
water from a jug. Then Reuben drew a large blue casserole dish from the oven, his hands
swathed in two tea-towels. Frieda already knew what it was. Reuben’s speciality,
his fallback dish, his comfort food, ever since she had known him, was a particularly
hot, spicy and meaty chilli con carne. When he triumphantly lifted the lid, the sight of
the meat and the purple kidney beans almost made her gag.
    ‘This was the meal I used to cook as a
student,’ he said, to Chloë. ‘You’ll need to build up a few dishes for
when you go to college. And you’re a bit peaky, if I may say so,’ he told
Judith. ‘Red meat is what you need!’
    ‘You didn’t make a salad as
well, did you?’ Frieda asked.
    Reuben left the room and returned with a
fairly smallgreen salad. He ladled the chilli on to the plates and
passed them round. When he had finished, he poured wine into the glasses.
    Chloë took a mouthful of chilli, flinched
and coughed. ‘It’s really hot,’ she said, with a gasp. She took a gulp
of