Free A Murderer's Heart by Julie Elizabeth Powell Page A

of Jenny she does seem reasonably self-assured, notwithstanding the nervousness. That in itself is quite a normal reaction when a major trauma has taken place.”
    He was about to continue, when there was a knock on his office door; his secretary appeared.
    With a frown she said, “There’s a policeman here to see you. He didn’t say what it was about, but insisted he speak to you.”
    “That’s fine, Joyce.”
    He looked at Anne, a curious expression on his face as he said, “Show him through. And bring three coffees. Thanks.”
    He delivered his well-worn smile both to Joyce and to Inspector Meakin as he entered.
    Frank rose to shake the Inspector’s hand, who then sat in the proffered chair, next to Anne. Meakin acknowledged her with nod. She looked intently at the newcomer; a knot forming in her stomach.
    Something was wrong. Perhaps something had happened to Jenny? But no, why would he come to Frank’s office?
    Anne stared white-faced expecting bad news.
    “Do you want me to leave? Is it about Jenny?” she whispered, frightened about what he had to say.
    “No reason for you to leave, Doctor Blake, and no, it’s not about your friend.”
    He spoke in his usual straightforward way.
    Somewhat relieved, Anne sat back in her chair and waited.
    There was still something wrong. Why else would he be here?
     
     
    ******
     
     
    Meakin remained silent until Joyce had set down the tray of coffee.
    “Please help yourselves to milk and sugar,” she said, before quietly shutting the door behind her.
    Meakin took a sip of his drink, and then put down the cup before extracting a notepad from his jacket pocket.
    After glancing at its contents he looked at Frank saying, “I’m afraid I have some bad news.”
    Both doctors waited for the blow.
    “A few days ago, one of your colleagues was found dead in his bed – a Doctor Alan Burgess. He was murdered. Our investigation has brought us to speak to you, Doctor Miller, as it seems you were one of the last people to see him alive.”
    Meakin searched Frank’s face as he delivered the news. He always thought this an important part of any investigation – watching people’s reactions. He’d learned however, that though people could hide what they were feeling some of the time, the first impact was always the most difficult to cover. The shock on Miller’s face was genuine. Meakin witnessed the struggle for control.
    “How….when…what do you mean that I…?” Frank stammered.
    Alan dead – he thought he was away with his wife; a long-awaited holiday. It was always difficult to get away in this job; the patients were so demanding. It was vital that they removed themselves every so often or they’d be patients themselves.
    Pulling himself together he added, “I mean, I thought Alan was on holiday. He’d left the fundraiser early to be home with his wife – they were to leave early the next morning; that’s why Mary never came with him. She’d stayed home with their young son, doing last minute packing. They’d been looking forward to it for a long time. Their marriage had been through a rough patch and the holiday was going to hold them together as a family.”
    Frank knew he was rambling, it was always more difficult to stay professional when it was someone you knew who was in trouble.
    “Witnesses have said they saw you leaving the venue with him,” Meakin said, his voice quiet and calm.
    He could see the agitation in the doctor’s face. His hand fiddled with his pen and shook as he lifted his cup – then put it down again without drinking.
    Anne looked at them both with horror.
    “Yes, I saw him to his car. We talked about the coming sponsorship and how we’d tackle all the research we were going to have to do. I wished him good luck with his holiday – we’d all been friends for a long time, I didn’t want to see his marriage go bust like mine had. I like them both so much. I didn’t kill him, why would I?”
    Frank had begun to feel the sorrow of