Page 47

When she turned down the street where she’d last seen Jerry, she noted the house Mrs. McKenzie had pointed out as problematic still had a skip bin in the front garden, and it didn’t look like anything had been added to it at all.

The Jamesons, the old lady had said.

Gabriella saw the poster Teddy Roe had put up on the lamp post near the Jameson’s house had been ripped off, leaving some tape and the corner of the poster still there.

She carefully taped a new one back on and then looked around.

Someone was taking them down too consistently for it to be random.

She let her gaze move over the neat front gardens and grand old homes in the street, and she had to admit that Mrs. McKenzie was right about the Jameson place being the least well kept.

Just before she moved on, she saw a woman coming up the street with a wheeled shopping bag. She had a scarf on over her head and wore a bulky gray coat, along with the pinched, unhappy face of a woman embittered and disappointed by life.

The woman noticed Gabriella standing by the lamp post, and as soon as her gaze passed over Gabriella’s uniform, she put her head down. She scurried up to the Jameson’s gate and opened it, awkwardly maneuvering her shopping cart through.

So, this was most likely Mrs. Jameson.

Gabriella began walking toward her, and Mrs. Jameson fumbled with the gate, as if in a hurry to get it closed. Once she had slammed it shut, she hurried down the path and around the back of the house, not going through the front door.

Could her uniform really have upset Mrs. Jameson that much?

Mrs. McKenzie had said that Mr. Jameson had had a heart attack and died in police custody, so perhaps it had.

As she carried on down the street, she saw an Austin Cambridge parked a little way down, on Mrs. McKenzie’s side of the road.

It looked just like the one she’d seen driving away from the jeweler’s the other day, after the shooting, but she hadn’t had a chance to catch the license plate number, and it could be a completely different car.

There were plenty of that color and model about.

A little moped came buzzing down the street as she checked the parked cars, and she had the sense the driver was looking at her.

She lifted her gaze over the tops of the car roofs, and saw whoever was driving had indeed turned their helmeted head toward her.

She raised her hand in a friendly hello, but the driver didn’t reciprocate and drove away, turning left onto the high street.

She shrugged off the feeling of animosity she’d gotten from the man. It was not exactly unusual for people to immediately hate her on sight in her traffic warden uniform.

Today just wasn’t the greatest day, she decided, as she reached the end of the road herself and turned left toward headquarters.

At least it was almost over.

The pavement on the high street was quite wide, dotted along with bus stops and street lights.

She could feel the weather changing, the air turning damp and icy, and she hunched into her coat, trying to move a little faster before she was caught in the rain.

Cars roared past, bus brakes squealed, and people shouted, so she didn’t really hear the buzz of the moped until it almost reached her.

Her brain registered the strangeness of hearing it so close, as if it were actually on the pavement with her, and she turned to look behind her.

The moped was almost right on top of her, a flash of pale blue, and then the rider shoved her, with as much strength as he could, into the madness that was Kensington High Street traffic on a Friday afternoon.

As she fell, she saw him turn his head, his eyes on her, not the pavement ahead, and he plowed into a group of teenagers who she’d noticed larking about up ahead of her.

Then she hit the road, bouncing once as she tucked herself in tight.

A car came to a smooth stop behind her, and a woman jumped out.

“My God! I watched that happen. Don’t worry, dear, I slowed down the moment I saw him shove you. What’s the world coming to?”