Free Quest for a Killer by Alanna Knight

toiled up the worn stone stair, the bright day outside vanished under a miasma of poverty, children crying and a darkness that I suspected took little heed of daylight. There was a feeling of hopelessness, of inevitability which must have struck anguish into any tenant reduced to living in such poverty, and I spared a thought for the widow woman with her small children and what the future might hold for them.
    I arrived at number 6 rather breathless, knocked on the door and expected to find it empty. It was opened by a young woman, carrying a large bundle, her expression harassed and impatient.
    ‘I’m making some enquiries—’ I began.
    Obviously in a hurry to leave she gasped out, ‘You’ve got here just in time. If it’s this place you’re wanting.’ My respectable appearance had not made an impression as, looking doubtfully at the barewalls, she added, ‘You’ll need to see the landlord.’
    And deciding that further explanation was necessary, she went on, ‘I’m Amy’s sister and the police told me I could take anything I liked as they didn’t need anymore for evidence. I’m not going far, just down the stairs to Joe’s shop. There’s nothing in here for me, nothing I want.’ And perhaps aware that I looked moderately prosperous, she frowned suspiciously. ‘Were you a friend of hers?’
    I had a sudden inspiration. ‘The nuns at the convent asked me to call regarding a Requiem Mass.’
    She looked at me wide-eyed and laughed. ‘For Amy?’
    ‘She was Catholic, I gather.’
    ‘Aye, baptised and all – we both were. But it’s many a long day since I set foot in that church. My man was staunch Kirk, wouldna’ be doing with all that popish nonsense. I canna be much help to you. Amy and I werena’ friends, too many years between us, nothing in common and I live way out Liberton way. She never wanted me to get married and didna’ like my man much.’ She sighed. ‘He’s dead now, God rest him.’
    Her statement didn’t encourage me to ask her whereabouts at the time her sister died. ‘Can you think of any reason for…for…’ I faltered deliberately.
    ‘Why she topped herself, you mean? Florrie downstairs – her with all them noisy bairns – tells me she was getting married. Married, well now. I’d never been told about that either – never showed much interest in lads, bit of a surprise that – but she might have invited me to the wedding, as her only kin,’ sheadded, her bitter tone hinting that this was the worst cut of all. ‘This lad she was marrying has never been to see me to offer sympathy either.’
    ‘I understand that his ship is due to arrive in Leith.’
    ‘Is that so, now?’ She sounded mildly placated so I asked, ‘Would you by any chance know where I can get his address?’
    She shook her head.
    ‘Were there any letters from him when you were clearing up?’
    ‘I dare say there were, but didna’ bother to read them like, none of my business. Just put them all in the fire. All except this.’ And putting her hand into the bundle, she produced a framed photograph of two girls which I presumed were herself and Amy.
    ‘Not me,’ she laughed. ‘That’s her with her chum Belle, they were always very close. Thought more of her than any of her own family,’ she added, thrusting the photo back into the bundle. ‘The frame might be worth a penny or two.’
    That seemed a little heartless, and had I arrived earlier, those letters she was destroying might have contained some valuable information. Not that it would be any help in finding out the truth about Amy’s death and I realised that, as an interview, this conversation was going nowhere. Except for one vital piece of evidence. That Amy, because of her religion, was unlikely to have taken her own life.
    I trailed down to the next floor, the screeching inside indicating that this was where Amy’s friendly neighbour lived. The door was opened by a harassed youngwoman, holding a babe in arms and with two small