Free Dying Art (A Dylan Scott Mystery) by Shirley Wells Page A

was good for them.
    Their arrival convinced Dylan it was time to call it a night.

Chapter Eight
     
    Guilt gnawed at Ruth as she watched her daughter open a bottle of wine. Getting through to Maddie was beyond her and she felt bad because she knew that, over the past few years, she’d stopped trying.
    Maddie and Tim’s home was equally alien to her. It was cold and anonymous. Nothing hinted at the hopes and dreams of the occupants.
    She’d been worried about Maddie and had felt honour-bound to come but, as always, she wished she hadn’t. There was a chilly atmosphere between them, an atmosphere that had never existed between her and Prue. Oh, Prue—
    “What time will Tim be home?” she asked.
    Her daughter spun round to face her, frowning as if she resented the question. “Soon. I offered to meet him from the airport, but Eddie’s bringing him. Tim said it would save me hanging around if the plane was late.” She shrugged. “Eddie doesn’t mind and it’s not far out of his way.”
    It was the longest speech Ruth had heard from Maddie this afternoon.
    “That was considerate of Tim,” Ruth said. “I expect he thinks you’ve got more than enough on your plate without acting as chauffeur for him.”
    “Meeting someone from the airport is hardly acting as a chauffeur, Mother.”
    “No.”
    Ruth would never forget the sheer joy of seeing Maddie for the first time. The excitement of carrying her first child had been nothing compared to seeing that round face for the first time, the little tuft of featherlight hair and those tiny but, oh, so immaculate fingers and toes. Maddie had been perfect in every way. Of course Ruth was biased, but she’d never seen a more beautiful baby before or since.
    Maddie had grown into an adorable toddler, one with a sunny smile that had lit up rooms, and one able to charm adoration from all who saw her. When Maddie had raced into her arms, Ruth hadn’t imagined that, one day, she would be almost afraid to speak to her daughter.
    A couple of days after Maddie’s fifth birthday—Ruth could still remember the fairytale castle cake she’d baked for that special day—Prue had been born. Ruth’s happiness had known no limits. She had two beautiful daughters who were perfect in every way and her life was complete. Prue had been a smiling, placid child with a loving, giving nature.
    And Maddie had been unbearable.
    Ruth and Andrew had worried about sibling rivalry and they’d taken great pains to make sure Maddie got lots of attention. The more affection they gave her, the more she pushed them away. She hadn’t even been able to look at Prue.
    As the two girls had grown up, Maddie had grown spiteful toward Prue. Yet Prue had tolerated it without a word of complaint. She’d been so easygoing, so kind and generous, so bloody understanding.
    The sting of tears had Ruth taking a deep breath.
    “Shall I take some of Prue’s things home, darling?” she asked. “It will save you having to go through it all.”
    “There’s no point. I’ve almost finished it. Anything of importance is going to the solicitor and the rest is being binned.”
    “Right. Well, don’t throw anything good away.” She smiled to soften her words.
    “Like what?”
    “Stuff that meant a lot to Prue,” Ruth said.
    “Oh, no, that would never do, would it?”
    Ruth flinched at such hostility. “If it’s all too much for you—”
    “Yes? If it’s all too much for me, what should I do? Like who would care?”
    “Maddie, darling, don’t be so hostile. We haven’t asked you to do any of this. You volunteered to sort everything out. You said you wanted to arrange the funeral. You employed that private investigator—”
    “His name is Dylan.”
    “Dylan, yes.”
    “Don’t you want to know what happened to your precious daughter?” Maddie asked.
    “I know what happened, darling. And I’m sure the police will be able to tell us more soon. There was certainly no need to bring in someone else. No one