For Rosa

By Diane Young

In 1986 twelve-year-old Alice meets Rosa, a former nightclub singer on a street corner, and they form an unlikely friendship. But when Rosa is murdered and her body abandoned on a lonely beach, Alice seeks to uncover the truth behind her death, and bring her killers to justice.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Diane Young
• Release date: Jul 8, 2016
• ISBN: 9780473335175

Diane Young

Diane Young has had an interest in writing stories ever since she was in the first grade. She has been a realtor, loan officer, business owner, and currently works in an attorneys' office. She is an avid animal lover, loves to travel, and currently is living in Fresno, California.

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FOR ROSA

by Diane Young

Copyright © 2016 Diane Young

All rights reserved.

Distributed by Smashwords

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CONTENTS

1. A Meeting on the Corner

2. Happy Birthday, Alice

3. Rosa

4. Rosa’s Invitation

5. The Way to Frederick Street

6. Tea with Rosa

7. Beryl

8. The Proposal

9. Patrick Plays a Song

10. The Room Behind the Bead Curtain

11. Rosa on the Promenade

12. The Discovery at Cinnabar Rocks

13. All About Rosa

14. A Song for Rosa

15. No Leads

16. Return to Rosa’s House

17. Mona-Lisa

18. Patrick’s Flat

19. A Letter from Rosa

20. One Night at the Scarlet Club

21. Jezebel’s House

22. The Evidence

23. A Gift from Patrick

24. A New Coat for Beryl

25. Goodbye, Rosa

Chapter 1

A Meeting on the Corner

Alice raised her hand. May I go to the girls’ room, please? she asked.

You may, Alice, if you ask in French, replied Miss Avril curtly. She glared at Alice from across the classroom. And stand up so everyone can hear you.

Alice hesitated.

Quickly now, you’re holding up the lesson.

Alice stood up, knocking back her chair. It landed on the floor with a loud thud.

"Mon dieu! Be careful Alice!"

"I’m sorry. I mean, je suis desole." Alice picked up the chair. She straightened her shoulders and looked at Miss Avril. Puis-je aller a la chambre des filles, s’il vous plait?

"Oui," said Miss Avril. Then she turned to the rest of the class. "You ask in French. Comprenez-vous?"

"Oui," replied the class.

Alice left the class and wandered down the corridor. She didn’t need to go to the girls’ room; she just wanted to get out of the classroom. Miss Avril had left the heaters on and it was getting hot. And she was bored. She didn’t mind learning French, but she’d rather be doing something else on a Saturday morning. It had been Mum’s idea for her to take the lessons. As a beginner she’d been put into a class with the younger children. She felt awkward being much older, and to make matters worse, Miss Avril had taken a dislike to her.

She reached the end of the corridor and went into an empty classroom. She opened a window, took a breath of fresh air and looked out onto the street. There’s that homeless man again, she thought. She didn’t know for sure that he was homeless; she just assumed he was. She walked past him every Saturday after her lesson. He was sitting in his usual spot, on the corner outside St John’s Church, with his straw hat over his face. He was about sixty, with a shaggy grey beard and a rather generous waistline. He always wore the same dishevelled clothes; a blue and white chequered shirt that was fraying at the collar, and a pair of patched up corduroy trousers. Sometimes he wore a knitted vest or an old jacket with a badge on the lapel. Then there were his worn leather boots and his straw hat, which looked new compared to the rest of his outfit. In fact, the price tag was still attached to the brim with a piece of string. He always kept a bottle by his side. It never had a label on it so she never knew what he was drinking. It could have been water, but she could always tell by his demeanour and the bloodshot look in his eyes that it was definitely something else. He also kept an old brown sack by his side, which probably contained all his belongings.

Alice observed him for a little while, then she went back to her class. Unfortunately, she couldn’t get back to her desk without once again drawing attention to herself.

You certainly took your time, remarked Miss Avril.

A little boy at the front of the class sniggered.

"Silence!" snapped Miss Avril. She waited for Alice to sit down and continued with the lesson. "Turn to the back of your textbooks. We’ll review our verbs from the top of page cinquante."

At the end of the class, Alice avoided the elevators and took the stairs down to the foyer, which was crowded with parents.

Excuse me, she said as she tried to make her way out. She heard the elevator’s ding. The doors opened, a group of children came out and shoved past her. She waited until everyone had left before making her way to the door.

By this time, Miss Avril had come down. She took a bunch of keys from her handbag and followed Alice to the door.

"Au revoir, Miss Avril, said Alice. I hope you enjoy the rest of your day."

"Merci, Alice," she replied. She locked the doors and got into her car, which was parked outside the entrance. She did a U turn and drove off at full speed.

Alice felt a little sorry for her. Maybe she would rather be doing something else on a Saturday morning, instead of teaching French to a class full of children.

On the corner of the street, Alice stole a glance at the homeless man. She noticed something poking out of his sack. It was shiny and metallic, and glistened in the sunlight. He must have heard her coming, because he took off his hat and looked up.

Got a name, girlie? he asked.

Alice ignored him and kept on walking.

I said, you got a name?

This time, Alice spun round and looked him straight in the eye. My name’s Alice.

Nice to meet you, Alice. He gave her a polite nod. Patrick’s my name.

Hello, Patrick.

You’re off to a tea party, are you? he chuckled.

No. I’m going to the bus stop. Alice rolled her eyes. She’d been teased about tea parties, mad hatters and white rabbits for as long as she could remember.

I’m not one for tea parties, myself, said Patrick. I prefer this. He picked up his bottle, gave it a little shake, and took a swig. Then he wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

What’s that you’re drinking? Alice knew it was none of her business, but she saw no harm in asking.

Whisky. If you were a wee bit older, I’d offer you some.

I already know what it tastes like. My dad’s let me try it. It’s awful. And I’ve tried his brandy, too.

Ha! I wouldn’t mind a cognac right now.

Do you always sit out here?

Patrick nodded. Every morning. It’s my favourite spot. Nice and sunny.

And where else do you go?

I go down to the St James most afternoons.

You sit outside the cinema?

That’s right. It’s the best place to catch the afternoon sun. It can get quite busy when there’s a matinee on, but everyone leaves me alone. Except the City Council.

But you’re not harming anyone, are you? asked Alice.

Of course not. I’m minding my own business, replied Patrick. But they don’t like us ‘alkies’ sitting there. We make the place look bad, especially when they’re showing their fancy visitors around town.

So where do you go if it rains?

I’ll spend the day at the City Mission. They’ve got a big hall for us. I can get a hot meal and a cup of tea as well. It’s a good place, the City Mission. That’s if you don’t mind the company. Patrick put on his hat and glanced across the road. I better not hold you up, or you’ll miss that bus.

I can catch another one, said Alice, checking the time on her watch. "I suppose I’ll see you