Mike Dixon

„You‟re looking very distinguished, my dear. I would hard-
ly have recognized you as that young Danish tearaway I recruited
all those years ago.‟
He turned to introduce Grace.
„This is Charles‟ wife. You surely remember my son, Char-
lie.‟
Kirstin could scarcely believe that the aged women was
married to someone of her own generation.
Grace reached out a bony hand.
„You‟re the grandmother of that poor little girl who was so
horribly violated. I can‟t tell you how much I was upset. As I
said to George, I just can‟t understand how such a thing
could have happened … that awful, awful man!‟
George moved to comfort her.
„Now! Now! Gracie! You mustn‟t blame yourself.‟
The old woman‟s head jerked to one side and her towering
headpiece slid forward. Cecilia pushed it back. Grace‟s
lips moved as if searching for words. Eventually she found
them.
„Do you know William Endicott well?‟
Kirstin‟s mind was still occupied by George‟s last remark
and she failed to take in the question.
„Who?‟
„Gracie means that policeman chap you were talking to
just now.‟
„You mean the owl man? Yes. We‟re in the same bird
watching society.‟
Grace‟s face took on a set expression.
„Ah! That‟s why you were speaking to him.‟
Her head dropped forward and she fell silent.
George placed an arm about Kirstin‟s waist. Thirty-five
years earlier she would have thought he was making a pass.
He spoke in Chinese, calling her Cherry Blossom (a reference
to her Danish name). He spoke about Charlie. He clearly