Falling Off Air Read Online Free Page B

been having a bad hair year, but did I really look so outlandish?
    A second memory, but out of kilter, a week or so before the first. In Sainsbury's, both children attempting to hurl themselves
     out of the stroller so they could roll in the aisles, me at my wits' end trying to juggle stroller and shopping basket. A
     woman wearing dark glasses, long graying hair pinned back from her face, clothes elegant but fraying, two large pepperoni
     pizzas in her basket. I thought at first that she was angry that we were blocking the aisle, but when I managed to haul the
     stroller out of the way for her she gave me a big sympathetic grin. “Been there, done that,” she said cheerfully, and I gazed
     after her, pleased and surprised by the camaraderie. I had not recognized her then, and I had not made the connection even
     when I later saw Paula Carmichael under the bridge, but now my subconscious made the leap.
    “I think I ran into her a couple of times,” I amended. As I spoke, William started to grunt and groan and fight the straps
     that held him in his chair. “But I hadn't realized she lived so close by.”
    William threw a bowl of cereal on the floor and Hannah burst into noisy tears for no good reason. They had been tolerant,
     but their goodwill had run out. My time was up and Jane knew it. She glowered at them.
    “Look, Jane, I'll think about the interview and give you a call,” I said.
    “Okay.” She didn't look happy, but there wasn't much she could do about it. She got up. The twins upped the volume another
     notch, and Jane had to shout, “There's one thing you should know, because you're not to bite my head off later. I'm getting
     Adam in to talk about her too.”
    “What the hell …?” But the twins and Jane all drowned me out.
    “He knew her quite well,” Jane spoke rapidly. Perhaps she thought that if she spoke fast enough I wouldn't hear what she was
     saying. “They worked on a program together a while ago. He'll be great about her, you know he will. If I ever die, I'll want
     Adam to do my eulogy, and he doesn't even like me. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know. It makes no difference to you. I'll
     keep a good distance between you.”
    I found myself shaking my head and caught sight of my reflection in the window, mouth pulled down at the corners, eyes narrowed.
     I sat down hard on a kitchen chair, looking blankly at Hannah, who was screeching in my face. Her big dark eyes, Adam's eyes,
     were round and angry.
    “I swear, Robin,” I could hear Jane saying, “you won't have to see him. I'm assuming you don't want to …”
    “Damned right,” I said. I felt as though another body had just slammed to earth at my feet.

Chapter 3
    W ITH Jane gone I picked the children up and peered out into the street through the plastic sheeting that was my window. The
     wind had dropped and the rain was no more than a mist, but everything looked as though it was in shock after the onslaught
     of the night before. Shrubs drooped under the weight of rain that had fallen on them, blossoms had been dashed from plants
     and trees by the wind, and the assorted fast-food wrappers that usually blew around on the pavement lay waterlogged in the
     gutters. A yellow and black ribbon defined the place where Paula Carmichael had fallen and what therefore might or might not
     be a crime scene. A single police car was parked outside the Carmichaels'. The house looked peaceful. There were a couple
     of lights on but no conspicuous movement inside. I wondered whether Richard Carmichael and his elder son were back home yet.
     How much digging would the police do inside the house before they satisfied themselves that Paula Carmichaels death was suicide?
    Photographers and reporters were already gathering. I counted around a dozen men and a couple of young women standing chatting
     in small groups. Jane was quick off the mark, but with a story like this every news organization would deploy its forces quickly
     and efficiently.