An Expert in Murder by Nicola Upson Page B

supposed to have done, Archie? Stalked the poor girl and strangled her with my scarf? For God’s sake, I thought I was the one with the vivid imagination.’ Archie remained silent as Josephine got up and walked to the window. ‘How did she die, or as a suspect aren’t I allowed to know?’ she asked sarcastically.
    ‘She was stabbed in the compartment of the train,’ he replied, ignoring the bait. ‘It must have happened quite soon after you left her.’
    ‘If only I had gone after her,’ she said, her anger disappearing as suddenly as it had come.
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘She dropped the feather from her hat on the platform and I wanted to give it back to her, but Lydia was late and there wasn’t time.’
    ‘You couldn’t have saved her,’ he said, gently. ‘Whoever did this was hell-bent on violence, so thank God you didn’t get in the way.’
    Josephine’s face was still turned to the window, but he could tell from her voice that any counsel against self-reproach was futile. ‘You know, just an hour ago I was looking across at the theatre, half expecting to see her in the queue already,’ she said, sadly. ‘And I found myself rather looking forward to it. It’s funny, isn’t it, how quickly some people make an impression on you?
    Yesterday was the first time I’d ever set eyes on the girl, but I could probably tell you more about her than people I’ve known for years. The important stuff, anyway – what she was like, what she cared about.’
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    ‘And what was she like?’
    ‘She was that quiet sort which always gets overlooked. I don’t mean quiet in the literal sense, but most people would probably have thought her quite inconsequential. If she were at a party, she’d be the person you spoke to until you found someone more important. I think she’d got so used to people looking past her that she didn’t even notice any more. She certainly didn’t seem to mind, because there wasn’t an ounce of self-pity about her.’
    ‘Not an obvious murder victim, then. She doesn’t sound the sort to inspire that sort of extreme emotion.’
    ‘No, not a victim in any sense of the word. It’s a cliché, but she made the best of what life dealt her, and that somehow makes all this even worse. I can’t help feeling that when you’ve worked hard to come to terms with how you entered the world, you ought to have a bit more say over how you leave it – but I don’t have to tell you that. You know she was adopted, I suppose?’
    ‘Yes, we spoke to her uncle. He came to the station to meet her.’
    ‘Poor man. From what she said, they were very close.’
    ‘What else did she tell you about herself?’
    ‘Well, her adoptive parents are from Berwick-upon-Tweed –
    that’s where she got on the train – but her father died quite recently. She worked with her mother – I expect you’ll have found the hats they made by now. It wasn’t unusual for her to be coming to London: her aunt and uncle have a shop here and she always brings the new season’s stock down and helps out a bit. The uncle
    – Fred, I think his name is, or Frank?’
    ‘Frank – he’s a driver for Lyons.’
    ‘Frank, yes – he loves theatre as well, so when she was here they spent a lot of time together. Although I suppose that must have changed now that she’d met her young man.’
    ‘So she was definitely seeing someone? Did she mention his name?’
    ‘No, I don’t think she did. She just blushed a lot. Romance was new to her, you see, and it goes back to what I said about her not being used to attention. She seemed quite astonished that anyone should want to pick her out, almost as if she didn’t deserve it. The 43

    only thing I can tell you about him is that he works in theatre. She said he was taking her to see Richard tonight and we laughed about it being a busman’s holiday.’
    No matter how hard he tried to keep an open mind, everything kept coming back to that play. ‘Isn’t this all a bit