Towers of Silence

Chapter Eleven

“No, I bloody-well didn’t,” Mr Jones, Miriam’s neighbour, was emphatic and obviously disgruntled at being interrupted. He wore a stained sky blue pullover stretched tight over a large round belly and tweed trousers. He had several badly drawn tattoos on his fingers and forearms. He smelt rank.

“Did you know Mrs Johnstone?”

“Not to speak to.”

“Can you remember when you last saw her?”

“No, I bloody can’t.”

I was relieved to get away and took a couple of gulps of cold, damp air to replace the nauseating smell.

I tried the neighbour on the far side.

Mrs Boscoe invited me in and made me tea. Miriam had been a good neighbour ‘God rest her soul’. She hadn’t seen her that Thursday, she’d told the others, she’d seen her the day before, the Wednesday, just to say hello. Both getting home at the same time, coming down in stair rods so they didn’t linger. She missed her. Missed them all. Roland used to help her, anything heavy to move. Always polite. Brought them up so nice, Miriam did, not like some these days.

I left her my card in case anything else occurred. At the doorway she asked, “What is it you’re actually doing? Is it for the insurance?”

“No, for the family. I’m just trying to find out where she was that afternoon.”

“Oh. Well, if she had been home Roland would have seen her, wouldn’t he?”

“Roland?”

“I think it was Roland. He plays the music loud, rap music he calls it, but if it’s not late I don’t bother, you’ve got to get along with people haven’t you.”

“That Thursday, you heard it?”

“I think so,” she looked uncertain. Pulled a face in concentration. “It wouldn’t have been after then,” she rationalised, “what with…” she let the sentence hang.

“What time?”

She thought again. “The news was on, the lunchtime news. Because I had to turn the sound up. I remember that,” she dipped her chin decisively.

“But it could have been another day? The Tuesday or Wednesday?”

“You’ve got me thinking now. I couldn’t put my hand on the Bible and swear to it.” She looked anxious.

“Don’t worry. If you remember anything else just give me a ring.”

She promised she would.

“You never mentioned this before?” I asked her.

“It never occurred to me. It’s not important is it?”

“No,” I reassured her.

But I had the impression that Martina and Roland had been out all day. Had I just leapt to conclusions? And like Mrs Boscoe said, it wasn’t important. Or was it?