‘It’s about Highford, all right.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Just come back and we’ll talk.’
‘Okay, if that’s what you want. And perhaps the truth about Nick Connor is exactly as it appears. A mugging gone wrong. It won’t be the first time a client has lied to you.’
‘It’s the first time a murder victim’s mother has helped the defence. That made it worth looking into, but we’re done with that now.’
‘Are you all right, Dan? You sound a bit, I don’t know, defeated.’
There was a pause, before he replied, ‘I’m fine.’
She wasn’t convinced, but she knew there was no point in pursuing it. Dan went into lockdown mode when things bothered him.
Jayne thought back to what she’d found out at Chris’s house. She knew she ought to mention it, but she didn’t want Dan to know that she’d slept with someone. She didn’t know why she thought that, he knew about many of her other one-nighters, but there was something more embarrassing about Chris.
As she thought about it, she realised why. She’d allowed herself to like him, even to wonder whether they could be a couple, had daydreamed about a new life by the coast.
As the silence grew between them, she knew that she couldn’t hold it back. It was a link between Brampton and Highford, and wrapped up in an untruth.
‘There is one thing,’ she said. ‘Do you remember how I met the brother of the little girl who was murdered by Rodney Walker, Chris Overfield? When I told him why I was here, he made out that he’d never heard of Highford. That isn’t true. I ended up going to his house.’
‘Do I need to know why?’
‘No, Dan, you don’t, but when I was in his kitchen, I saw a bank statement. He was in Highford a month ago. He filled up with petrol there. But why would he lie?’
‘Always follow the lies and you’ll find the truth.’
‘What are you thinking?’
‘His belief in Rodney’s innocence might be a sham. He might be covering up for what he did to Mark, because who’d suspect the person campaigning for him, Rodney’s cheerleader, especially an unlikely one?’
‘But he told the police when it happened that it couldn’t be Rodney, that he’d seen him on the rugby fields when his sister went missing, and that he was still there afterwards.’
‘Who told you that?’
‘Well, he did, of course.’
Jayne could hear the smile in his voice when he said, ‘That would be the man who’s told you one lie already?’
She laughed, despite herself. ‘Yes, good point. I was blinded, I suppose. Do you want me to look further at Chris?’
‘Are you sure you can be objective about him?’
‘What, that I might be cross-eyed with love or something? Don’t you worry about that, Dan. He’s lied to me. For that, I want to know more.’
‘Find out where he was when Mark was murdered. If he was on duty, we can forget about him, but keep me updated.’
‘I’ll find out what I can and head back to Highford.’
‘I’ll get the wine chilled for you.’
‘Good boy. See you later.’
When he clicked off, she scrolled through to Chris’s number. She’d taken a picture of them both the night before, both grinning madly as she held the phone at arm’s length. That was the picture she’d used for his contact photo.
It didn’t take long for that to turn sour.
Chris didn’t know that, of course. If he was prepared to use her, it was time for her to do the same.
She texted him.
Hey babe. What a night, hot lover! Fancy a coffee? I might have to go back but I want to see you more. XX
She stared at her phone as she waited for a reply, ignoring how her body was getting colder as she sat on the bed.
The reply came in. Coffee Pot in an hour. My treat. XX
No, she thought, as she put her phone down on the bed. I’ll be making it my treat.
Chapter Forty-Two
It was the smell that hit Dan the most. He had never been that close to a burnt-out building. He was standing next to the crime scene tape that was strapped across the shell of the office that was once his, to keep out the curious, fluttering in the light wind. Not that there was anything to see. The brickwork was blackened, the windows either blown out or smashed by the Fire Service. The sign with the firm’s name on was warped and bent, the paint bubbled and scorched, the word Molloys barely visible, but it was the stench of melted plastic and scorched furniture that dominated, acrid and cloying.
Dan preferred to look in the other direction, towards the view he’d had throughout his working life: a taxi office and a sandwich shop, a closed-down nightclub on one corner. Behind him was just ruins.
Margaret had left as Dan arrived. She’d turned up for work as normal, hearing the local news about a fire in the town centre but not realising it was where she worked. She hadn’t said anything to Dan. She’d been crying when he arrived and left as soon as he got close. He didn’t know why, except perhaps she didn’t want to dwell on her instant retirement. He’d call round later. She’d been with Molloys for years, even longer than Dan. She deserved to know what her future held.
There were some people further along, in fluorescent green jackets and white helmets. Eileen Molloy was with them, Pat’s widow, and Dan wasn’t looking forward to the conversation.
The group parted and Eileen walked towards him, her head down, her hands thrust into the pockets of her quilted jacket, her hair scraped under a headscarf.
‘How are you, Dan? You look a mess.’
‘It sounds stupid when I say it, but I feel lucky, when I think what they really wanted to do to me.’ He nodded towards the people in fluorescent coats. ‘What have the fire people said?’
‘It was deliberate, they think. They found some intense burning underneath the window at the back, in Pat’s old office. They think whoever did it smashed the window and poured petrol in, because there’s a melted jerrycan in there.’
‘They’ll find them, Eileen. Petrol has a signature, from the additives, and they’ll be able to work out from which company the petrol came. Once they know that, they can get the CCTV from last night and see who bought a petrol can and petrol.’
‘Dan, I don’t care about that, and that’s all part of the problem.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It was a different time when Pat started out. He didn’t choose to do criminal work, because when he started out he did bits of everything. That’s what being a high-street lawyer was all about. Long lunches, houses in the country, being someone respectable. Now? I don’t know. It’s different somehow. You want to fight all the time. That’s what Pat liked about you, that you’ve got some anger inside you that he never had. It could be your background, always having this need to prove yourself. Is that what brought this on? Pat ran this place for more than thirty years without a threat. You’ve had it as your own for around a year and already you look like you’ve been kicked around Highford, and this place, well, it’s gone now.’
‘The insurance money will restore it. Molloys isn’t over.’
‘Oh, it is. At least in this building. I’m putting it on the market once it’s been rebuilt. You can buy it if you want it, but I want this place out of my life.’
‘You sound like you hate the office.’
‘I kept it on because it was what Pat wanted, but me? Where do I figure in this? For me, this building is about a wasted life. Yes, it gave me a comfortable living, but for what? So I could sit home alone all the time as Pat worked too many hours? Police station work, court work, schmoozing big clients, with most of that ending in drinking sessions, with Pat sleeping in places he’d never tell me about. No, when I look at this place, I see the reason why he was distant from his children, why we had so many wasted years.’
‘Being a lawyer is long hours, I know that.’
‘Don’t do it then. Do you know what my holidays were l
ike? Tense, all the time, because Pat would be thinking about his cases non-stop. He’d be on the phone every day, just checking in, wanting to know what was happening. It was better when you started, because he had someone he could trust, but it still seemed like he preferred this place to home. And for what? To be cold and buried before he had chance to enjoy life.’
‘I’m sorry about that, Eileen.’
‘This place will be out of action for months, so you’ll need to find somewhere else anyway.’
Dan blew out and looked down. She was right. ‘I’ll keep the name though, Molloys.’
‘You don’t have to. I know that was Pat’s wish, but be your own man, Dan, not a younger Pat Molloy.’ She looked back towards the building. ‘This place has no sentimental value for me. Move on, Dan.’
A car pulled up and a man in a suit got out. He was carrying a clipboard.
Eileen got to her feet, grunting with the effort. ‘It looks like the insurance assessor is here. I’ve got to go.’ She bent down and gave Dan a hug. ‘Thank you for everything.’ And then she walked away.
Dan watched her go and felt numb.
This was it. All over.
He stayed for nearly an hour, watching people going in and out of the building, with builders trying to make it safe and assessors working out whether it was worth saving. Eileen left without saying any more goodbyes. There were a few gawkers, people stopping to stare, but they avoided Dan, wanting the spectacle without the human interest.
His thoughts were interrupted by the loud whirr of a mobility scooter and the clatter as it tried to negotiate the pavement and sideswiped a litter bin. It was the familiar cursing from the driving seat that drew his attention.
It was his father, his face pale in the sun, apart from the flush of anger as he tried to meander through some onlookers.
Dan was surprised. He stood. ‘You made it out at last.’
His father narrowed his eyes to focus on Dan’s face. ‘What happened to you?’
‘Just one of the perils of being a lawyer. It’s not all suits and ties.’
His father looked towards the burnt-out office. ‘I heard about this and had to come and see.’
‘How’s the scooter?’
‘A bit tricky, but I got here. It’s good to see the town again. It’s been a long time.’ He leaned forward over the handlebars. ‘What now though?’
‘Eileen is selling up, once she’s been paid out. My business is now homeless.’
‘And that’s it?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You sound defeated. Us Grants don’t do that. I know you think you’re different to me, but you’re not. Your job might give you softer hands, but you’ve got the same fight inside you. Don’t let them win.’ When Dan didn’t respond, he asked, ‘Was it to do with a case you’ve got? And that too,’ and he gestured towards his bruises.
‘I think so.’
‘Don’t give up on this, Dan. Don’t lose your fight.’
Dan thought back on what Eileen had said and wondered whether she was right, and whether his father was giving him bad advice.
It wasn’t the day to make plans. Instead, he said, ‘Have you been to a pub since your stroke?’
‘You know I haven’t.’
‘Let’s change your life for the better, and then we’ll work out how to change mine.’
Dan set off walking, smiling as the sound of the mobility scooter came from behind him.
Perhaps Eileen was right. It was time for a new direction. And right then, it would start by him drowning his sorrows.
Chapter Forty-Three
The Coffee Pot was in the centre of Brampton, set in the lower floor of a gift shop, accessed by narrow stairs. Jayne had to negotiate racks of trinkets and mugs, past picture frames with witticisms inside, the sort of place where people buy birthday or house-warming presents. The air was filled with the scent from incense sticks.
She had the urge to duck as she got into the cafe part, the ceiling low and lined by wooden beams. The tables were set in small alcoves and lit by candles, making it cosy and romantic.
It would have been a good move by Chris, she thought, had she not discovered his secret.
He was in the corner, in uniform, checking his watch, a coffee in front of him. Jayne stopped by the counter and asked for a latte, before joining him.
When she slid into the bench seat opposite, her coffee waking her, he smiled and put his hand out to take hers.
Oh, such a winning smile, she thought. Her instinct screamed at her to pull her hand away, but the desire to find out why he lied kept it there.
‘You were out early this morning,’ she said. ‘It would have been nice to have woken up with you.’
‘I know, I’m sorry, but I should have said. I’m on a six-two shift.’
‘Are you all right to be here. If you’re on duty, that is.’
‘Who’s going to tell? If I get a call-out, I’ll have to go, but I reckon I’ll be safe from shoplifters for a while. More importantly, how are you?’
‘Oh, I’m fine. A bit tired, but that’s down to you.’ She gave him a playful slap on the arm.
He laughed. ‘How’s your investigation going today?’
‘Making slow progress.’ She pulled a face. ‘Or no progress. What about you? Have you thought of anything more that could help me? You’re important in this, because you’re a grieving brother.’
‘I’ve stopped thinking about it too much.’
‘Really? That wasn’t how it seemed yesterday?’
‘Only because you were asking.’ He sighed. ‘It’s hard, you know, always being known because of Ruby. When people see me, they don’t say that I’m Chris the cop. It’s always the whispers about me being Ruby’s brother. I can never be just me. Just Chris. I’m always in her shadow.’ He held up his hand. ‘I don’t mean to sound like I don’t care or that I don’t miss her, or that I don’t want to see her real killer locked up, but I’ve got to live my own life.’
‘But I’m here and wanted to talk to you for the same reason. Why did you want to spend time with me? I’m just another reminder, surely?’
‘You’re different.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I can just tell. You didn’t have to sleep with me to find out what I know. I told you because I trust you.’
She tried hard to smile and gave his hand a squeeze. ‘Last night was special. That wasn’t about Ruby. It was about us.’
‘Is there an us?’
‘I don’t know. I really want there to be, but I’ve got to go back to Highford today. The trial starts on Monday and it’s ground to a halt here.’
‘I don’t want you to go.’
‘You could always follow me to Highford. It’s not that far.’
He pulled his hand away. ‘It’s too far for me. My job is here.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s the problem with a town like this. You meet too many people who are simply passing through. Tourists, or people wanting to leave.’
‘Give me a reason to stay longer then. Tell me who else I can speak to.’
‘Take this the right way, but don’t think you can do in a couple of days what I haven’t done in twenty years.’
‘This is it then?’
‘If you’re going back to Highford, I suppose it is. We’ll always have last night though. Before you go, is there anything you haven’t told me? I know you’re here for your client, but this is my sister. My parents too. It wrecked them. If there’s some bit of evidence you haven’t told me, I beg you, please say it.’
Her mind went back to his torn-up bank statement. ‘I’ve told you everything. I’m sorry that it’s not enough.’ She squeezed his hand again. ‘You could come and see me in Highford. After all, if you’ve never been there, you don’t know what you’re missing.’
He smiled, but it was faltering. ‘What I’ve never had, I’ll never miss.’
‘Touché.’
His brow furrowed. ‘Have you spoken to Rodney’s wife?�
��
‘No. Sarah, isn’t it? No, why would I?’
‘Because I don’t think Rodney did it, and who knows him better than her?’
‘Yeah, good point. Where does she live?’
He pulled out his phone. ‘I’ve got it written down in here. Hang on.’ He scrolled through. ‘Here we are. Rockley Drive, in Wakefield. Number nineteen.’
‘Have you got a number?’
‘Yes, but don’t ring first. I tried that once and she slammed the phone down. Get her face to face and she’s a bit easier to deal with.’
‘A difficult person?’
‘You’ll see what I mean when you meet her.’
‘If you’re trying to move on from Ruby, why do you know this information?’
‘There are times when I think about her and want to do something, but I know I can’t change anything.’
Jayne wafted the piece of paper that she’d written the address on. ‘This is goodbye then.’
He stood and held out his arms. ‘Hold me.’
She stood to hug him and buried her face into his shoulder, let out a contented sigh before pulling away. She kissed him and went as if to wipe away a tear.
‘No, stop, I can’t cry,’ she said. ‘I’m going. Chris, it’s been fantastic. Let’s not make this the last time.’
‘Definitely not.’
She turned and went up the steps and into the main body of the shop, her hand by her eyes, wiping.
As she reached the street, her jaw was set. Her eyes were dry. There were no tears. No sadness.
She intended to keep watch, to follow Chris, to work out what he was hiding. There was a market going on further down the street, so she took refuge behind one of the awnings.
What she saw next made her realise that she was wasting her time.
Porter went into the cafe, but he was looking along the street where she’d walked. He’d seen her and he was going to speak to Chris. Were they working together? Were they suspicious of her?
She couldn’t follow both of them, and she had no idea which one of them may be on her side. She knew she couldn’t trust Chris, but could she trust Porter?
The Innocent Ones Page 19
