‘Okay,’ said Antigone, comprehension suddenly clear in her eyes. ‘I’d be happy to. When do you want me?’ She reached across the desk and picked up a dark blue diary with the police insignia on the cover.

‘We meet on Saturday mornings at nine o’clock in the CWA hall. Is tomorrow too soon?’

Antigone flicked through the pages until she came to the one she was looking for. She scribbled in the time and location. ‘Done,’ she said.

Norma did not move. There was something else she needed to say but she didn’t know how. Antigone seemed to sense this.

‘Is there something else?’ she asked gently.

Norma spoke in a rush: ‘I work as a locum pharmacist at the local chemist a couple of days a week. Have done for the last twenty-six years and I regard the privacy of our customers as sacred. I have never breathed a word about anyone, even though I must say, the prescriptions we fill and the creams we sell …’ She pursed her lips and let the meaning sink in.

Antigone nodded.

‘But when I heard that Jack Barratt might be the rapist who’s been terrorising all those poor girls—well, I think we need to put the safety of women over the privacy rights of men. You ought to know this, but you didn’t hear it from me.’ She touched the side of her nose. Secret.

‘My lips are sealed,’ said the detective.

Norma took a deep breath. ‘His prescriptions are for the treatment of a rather nasty sexually transmitted disease.’ She took a folded piece of paper from her handbag and passed it to the woman opposite her. ‘I wrote it down,’

Antigone’s eyebrows raised a notch. ‘Thanks for letting me know,’ she said.

‘Just as long as you never got it from me. People trust Filmore’s Pharmacy. If it got out that I was tattling about their ailments …’ Norma gave an involuntary shudder.

‘Filmore’s?’

‘Yes,’ said Norma. ‘The one in the main shops.’

The detective’s face broadened into a warm smile. She leaned forward in her seat. ‘There’s a girl called Crystal starting on Monday. Would you mind giving her a helping hand? She’s young. She hasn’t had a job before.’

‘Not the Mowbray girl?’ said Norma.

Antigone nodded.

‘She’s a scallywag, that one.’ Norma’s voice was full of affection.

‘Yes, she is,’ agreed the detective.

CHAPTER 9: A RAINBOW OF BRUISES

CHAPTER 9

A RAINBOW OF BRUISES