Memories of Murder
103 pages
English

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103 pages
English

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Description

This sequel to 'Rosie's Gift,' written by Beverley Joughin-Robson, continues to follow Rosie's family and friendships. As they deal with the death of Sam, and as Rosie's romance blossoms, the two friends, Officer Gina, and Rosie, try to find the elusive murderer, Gavin Jameson. But this is not a simple crime thriller or murder mystery, this man is complex, a psychological challenge. Is he a monster or a victim of his past?As Gavin tries to make a new life, memories of murder haunt him. Can Rosie, with her psychic gift, and Gina with her tenacious detective work, unravel the mysteries and solve the murders that haunt them both?

Informations

Publié par
Date de parution 16 février 2022
Nombre de lectures 0
EAN13 9781839524448
Langue English
Poids de l'ouvrage 1 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0250€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

First published 2022 Copyright © Beverley Joughin-Robson 2022
The right of Beverley Joughin-Robson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the copyright holder.
Published under licence by Brown Dog Books and The Self-Publishing Partnership Ltd, 10b Greenway Farm, Bath Rd, Wick, nr. Bath BS30 5RL
www.selfpublishingpartnership.co.uk

ISBN printed book: 978-1-83952-417-2 ISBN e-book: 978-1-83952-444-8
Cover design by Kevin Rylands Internal design by Andrew Easton
Printed and bound in the UK
This book is printed on FSC certified paper

CONTENTS
Cover
Copyright
Title Page
Part One
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Part Two
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
About the Author
Other Books by the Author
PART ONE
CHAPTER 1
Rosie lay back quietly in the sun with only the flapping wings of pigeons, hidden in the branches at the bottom of the garden, disturbing the calm. She enjoyed these peaceful moments of reflection. It was a sunny, spring morning, and a gentle breeze caught the label on the side of her sunbed, making it rustle, which distracted her thoughts.
Simon was busying himself with a paintbrush and paint. The shed required a coat of green to preserve it from the elements and brighten its rather dull exterior. She watched him now, smiling comfortably, the man who had settled her with a warm security, which continued to blossom. Their marriage was not perfect, but it was close. His burst of song, not particularly tuneful, broke the quiet scene. She realised he had his headphones on and was oblivious to her presence. What she wanted to say would wait. She closed her eyes and allowed the welcoming heat to send her into a dreamy daze.
She first knew she was pregnant when she took a sip of wine last Sunday and it tasted like vinegar. The same experience had happened with her first pregnancy. She went off alcohol, tea and coffee, and drank mainly lime squash. That time the baby had lived for only three and a half months. Rosie was aware that something was not right almost immediately the pregnancy was confirmed but she had hoped she was wrong. At the time she imagined she might take after her Auntie Eileen, who had had several miscarriages, but she had seen, during one of her dream-like states, the little boy pushing the wooden baby walker around the living room, filled with coloured bricks knocking together as they fidgeted and jostled with its movement. She knew the child would come some time and was resigned to the sadness the miscarriage brought. For Simon it had been different. He became quiet, and his irritability affected them for a while. She was not in a hurry to tell him the news. She had waited longer than she had expected, subduing her excitement. The longer she waited, the better it was for the both of them. It had been a few weeks now and a few more hours would not make a difference. Today had its own importance anyway; it was special. It was her brother’s birthday. He had been dead now for almost ten years. Much had happened since then, but he was always in her thoughts. The image of her holding Paul’s hand in the hall, after the funeral, was vivid now. It was the first time she had seen Simon. She had noticed him through the window briefly, crossing the street.
There had only been six of them at the wake: Rosie, her parents, Jim and Marjorie, her half-brother Paul and her Auntie Penny and Uncle John. The grief had been too much to bear, and her parents just wanted to be alone. But the following day the house was busier, with relatives from Australia and other close friends and family who wanted to express their own grief in a shared gathering.
Her mother’s sister Eileen and her daughter Jenny bustled round organising the food and logistics of the small cluster of visitors. Rosie knew it was best to just let events happen. She avoided any ‘visions’ that nagged her unhelpfully and allowed people to fuss and natter about notable nostalgic recollections: stories that seemed distant and unrelated to this reality.
That momentary ‘vision’ had alerted her senses. She lay back, attempting to release her mind to the present, to the pleasantries of that morning. She let the cooing and twittering of the birds and occasional rumble of vehicles in the distance permeate the vibrant red glowing mist, as the sun pressed on her closed eyelids. She was happier than she had been for a long time.
Although she had experienced many happy moments and delightful times in the last ten years, Sam’s death hung over her, hovering relentlessly. It did not matter how much she dispersed these feelings with a purposeful determination, targeting her emotions at the happiness she was feeling, sadness would creep into her quiet reflective moments and take root again.
Today was different. Today she would announce to her wonderful husband that she was expecting a baby. It would be a baby boy: a son called Sam. She knew this with an assured energy, but these last facts she would keep to herself. She thought then of her grandfather, Stanley. He had had the gift too. Her grandmother’s words, after his death, now resonated, ‘Look after the gift; it is unpredictable, coming and going, or lost forever.’ It had not helped her much in her life, Rosie reflected then, contradicting herself, thought about how she had saved her father from an imminent car crash and jail; how she had brought her mother and sister together again after years of separation; how she had helped so many, in so many small ways. Her ‘gift’ had helped her with decisions in her own life, providing her restless spirit with purposeful direction. No! she decided. She had been incredibly lucky to have acquired this gift from her grandfather.
When, after tea, Simon stood at the sink wiping the dishes she had just washed, he paused a moment and looked thoughtfully at her.
‘What?’ Rosie demanded, with her light-hearted smile.
‘I don’t know.’ He looked quizzically. That was one of the things she loved about him. He could read her so well.
‘I’m pregnant.’ She spoke easily.
‘I knew it.’ He grinned, gathering her up in his strong, safe arms. She immersed herself in his dependable and comforting embrace.
‘Let’s go out for dinner tomorrow, to celebrate,’ he suggested, an extravagance they both felt they deserved. From today, she decided, she would look only to the future. Ten years was a long time to allow her brother’s death and the past to haunt her. It seemed like a lifetime ago, when her family struggled on after his death, trying to get on with their lives, trying to engage themselves in normality. She had still been studying forensic science and law at the higher education college. Apart from marrying Simon, that had been the best decision she had ever made.
There was a time before Simon, a time of study and an attempt to make sense of her troubled past. She was much happier in the present. Her life seemed to be finding its own way, as if mapped out. She was a true believer in destiny. How could she not be, when so much of her life had revolved around her sixth sense, knowing things about what would happen to her, and seeing visions involving those around her?
CHAPTER 2
Sitting on the train, gazing out the window on that rather damp misty morning, Rosie read through her notes from her last lecture. She enjoyed college life: the friendly intellectual conversations interspersed with frivolous gossip. She would occasionally go to one of the weekly Friday night discos or band nights but she often preferred Gina’s company. She felt carefree and wild at times, but she was also absorbed by her studies. She sat, reading through what she had written. This essay was in response to the case study they had been given and she was feeling quite pleased with the result. She liked the way she could lose herself in facts and sources, negotiating different probable outcomes. Her own imagination, entwined with logic, allowed her to sift through evidence and calculate outcomes successfully. There was no cheating, no helpful ‘vision’ depicting stories or pictorial clues which would formulate the answers for her.
She had been helping Gina occasionally on case studies but only when asked, and she was not always able to see anything significant to help with the investigations. The attractive Italian police-woman was her friend. They enjoyed a social drink, despite the seven-year age gap. Last Friday, they had sat in the garden of her parents’ house, sipping lime and lemonade; neither of them drank alcohol except at s ocial events: they preferred engaging in complex scenarios, speculating the narratives behind recent crimes in the newspapers. Such serious conversations were often interspersed with lively chatter of families, friends and characters of interest at Rosie’s college or Gina’s station. They discussed possible boyfriends with an intimacy kept only for special friends.
Gina had engaged in a few brief encounters, but she spent far too much time at work to establish a serious relationship. She would often ask Rosie for a general synopsis of someone’s life and potential, as if she had some sort of crystal ball, a gateway to the future. Rosie on occasions would be able to oblige her with a few bewitching tales, but not always. Rosie’s ability to ‘see things’ was something she kept to herself, mostly. Th

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