Free The K Handshape by Maureen Jennings Page B

stopped abruptly and at the same time a door behind the reception desk opened and a woman came out. She was middle-aged, with auburn hair, well-hennaed, and a full round figure. She came straight around the partition.
    “Hello, I’m Mrs. Helen Scott. How can I help you?”
    The jackhammers began again, making conversation impossible. I saw the girl fiddle with her hearing aid, no doubt switching it off against the din. She was watching us curiously.
    The supervisor gesticulated to me to follow her and she led me to her office where she closed the door behind us and somewhat muted the noise.
    “Sorry about the row, we’ve had to take up the old paving out front. It was collapsing.”
    She faced me directly when she spoke and enunciated distinctly. She took a seat behind the desk and I perched myself on one of the chairs in front. She didn’t seem to be hard of hearing and as far as I could see she didn’t have a hearing aid.
    “I’ve come about Deidre Larsen. I’m afraid I have bad news…”
    I told her what had happened. There isn’t any way to soften the impact of news like that and she gasped and covered her mouth with her hands.
    “I can’t believe it. That is dreadful. Absolutely dreadful. She was a lovely young woman. Very capable and well-liked. Oh, I can hardly believe it.”
    Tears were spilling unheeded over her hands. There was a box of tissues on her desk and I got up and handed it to her. It took a while before she was sufficiently composed to continue.
    “You will be required to give a statement later to the police, Mrs. Scott, but right now I am not here in a formal capacity, more as a representative of her father, Dr. Forgach. He wanted Deidre’s friends to be told personally.”
    “Of course.”
    “I am interested in speaking to the two young women who I understand were Deidre’s particular friends. Jessica Manolo and Hannah Silverstein.”
    “Of course. Jessica is the person on the reception desk.” She checked her watch. “Hannah should be coming in shortly. I … er, sorry, I’m having trouble getting my thoughts together. What would be the best way to go about this? Hannah is deaf and communicates through sign language. Jessica has some hearing, but I could act as interpreter.”
    “I would appreciate that. I will need to ask them questions.”
    She stood up and then leaned for a moment against her desk. “Oh dear, my legs are quite shaky. This has been a most dreadful shock.”
    I can’t tell you how much I hated this part of my job. Helen Scott was a decent middle-class woman and nothing like this had ever entered her life before.
    “Do you want to sit for a moment?”
    “No, I’ll be all right. I’ll get Jessica.”
    She left and I went over to the window. The office was pleasantly furnished in light oak and one half of a deep bay window let in as much light as was on tap. Perhaps in its previous life it had been part of the drawing room, which had been rather crudely severed by a dividing wall. Outside, the two workmen were taking a smoke break, sitting on a concrete planter near the door. I considered sending them away so we could have some easier conversation, but I realized the noise wasn’t going to make any difference to the young women. The door opened and Mrs. Scott ushered in the blonde girl. Behind her was a shorter, dark-haired girl who still had her outdoor clothes on.
    “Hannah has just arrived.”
    She indicated the other two chairs in front of the desk and they both sat down. Hannah shoved back the hood of her raincoat. She wore glasses and they had misted over so she removed them and wiped them off on the edge of her sleeve. Mrs. Scott was looking quite distraught and the two young women stared at her, curiously. She pointed at me, made a sort of chopping gesture, one hand on the other, then made some rapid finger signs. At the same time she said out loud, “This is Sergeant Morris from the OPP. I’m afraid she has brought some very bad news.”
    It was a