The five-minute walk between the underground station and her office was busy with people rushing to work. Again, she stayed to the inside of the footpath, and never stopped scanning the bodies around her. It was with an overwhelming feeling of relief that she pushed open the door into the office, managing a shaky smile and greeting to Dan who, as usual, was standing in reception, his eyes automatically scanning every face that entered. Whoever wished her harm wouldn’t get past him.
In the lift, she realised the stupidity of that thought. Whoever wished her harm could already be inside. She’d no idea who it was, so it could be anyone. When the lift stopped on the second floor, she got out and hurried the few steps to her office.
There was work to be done but she couldn’t find any motivation to do it. Her hand reached for the desk phone and hovered over it before she pulled it back to take out her mobile and do a quick internet search. She dialled the number she found. ‘I’d like to put my apartment on the market, it’s on Bloom Park Road, Fulham. I want as quick a sale as possible even if it means dropping the price to get it.’ Agreeing to meet the estate agent at her apartment the following night at seven, she hung up.
Next, she picked up the phone and rang Caitlin. Annoyingly, it went straight to voicemail. ‘I wondered if you’d had a chance to look into Quinn yet.’ Caitlin, she thought with a sad smile, would think that she was very eager to learn more about the man. How right she was.
Melanie settled down to work, feeling guilty she’d done so little. Several reports and innumerable emails later she sat back with a sigh, her eyes flicking to the door quickly when she heard a soft knock. ‘Come in.’
‘Morning,’ Rona said, her stocky frame filling the doorway. ‘I’ve the post sorted. There are a couple marked private that I haven’t opened.’ She put the pile of opened letters down first and the two unopened envelopes on top.
When the door closed behind her, Melanie reached for her post. The first envelope had Rabbie and Henderson’s logo in one corner. Rona, she guessed, would have seen it too, and would be wondering why it was marked private rather than being looked after by her. Always curious about what was going on, she’d be more so now.
Shoving the letter in her bag to deal with at home, she reached for the second. No logo this time, a cheap brown envelope, handwritten name and address. No return address on the reverse. It wasn’t unusual to get begging letters or ones asking for free advice so it was with little interest that she slipped a nail under the flap and slid it across to open. It contained one folded white sheet. Automatically, her heart rate increased and her mouth went dry as she reached in and withdrew it carefully, almost fearfully. What was that powder that could be sent through the post? Anthrax?
Putting it flat on the desk in front of her, she held her breath and opened it slowly. There was nothing inside. Letting her breath out, she looked at it. It was handwritten, a few lines and across the bottom in big curly writing, Eric.
Eric! She thought she’d seen the last of him, hadn’t he told Quinn that he’d been trying to reassure her? She’d thought it strange at the time but had put him to the back of her mind, and now here he was again, jostling for a place at the front.
The letter was short and succinct.
Melanie, there has been enough pain. I owe you nothing but I’ll give you something anyway. A word of warning. Be careful who you trust.
Apart from his swirly signature, that was it. He’d given her something all right, a huge headache. Be careful who you trust? Did he mean that she was trusting someone she shouldn’t? Quinn?
She remembered watching Eric and Quinn together from her window. There’d been no rough stuff, Eric had even laughed before they’d walked away. Together. Almost friendly. Did they know each other? Did Eric know something about Quinn?
‘Aargh,’ she shrieked and quickly held a hand over her mouth, hoping the sound hadn’t travelled, her eyes glued to the door for long after she would have expected help to have come.
And then a worse thought hit her, sending her reeling backward, eyes wide, her hand clamping across her mouth to prevent another scream piercing the quiet. She was good at puzzles, sometimes it took her a while but generally she was good at working them out. Sometimes, you just needed enough pieces to be able to reach a solution. Eric’s letter was the piece she had needed. Because if Liam Quinn knew him, mightn’t it follow that he knew his brother, Matthew?
What Quinn had said about Hugo… that he wreaked havoc with people’s lives… didn’t that also apply to her? After all, she had destroyed so many lives: Matthew’s, her mother’s, her own, even Cherry’s.
Another piece clicked into place. She’d left him here in her office alone. It had been the paperwork on her desk she’d been concerned about, relieved to find on her return that it hadn’t been touched, that it looked as if Quinn hadn’t moved during her absence. But maybe he had, maybe he’d made use of the opportunity she’d so stupidly handed him. He was a private investigator, after all, wasn’t snooping their forte?
Her spare key! She hadn’t looked for it yet. When she’d moved from the shared office, she’d simply taken the drawer holding yellow Post-its, boxes of paper clips, staples and elastic bands and swopped it for the empty one in her new office. She hadn’t checked to see if the key was there and couldn’t really remember the last time she’d seen it. With a jerk, she pulled the drawer open and searched among the mishmash of items, her scrabbling becoming more frantic with every second as the truth dawned. Then she slammed the drawer shut.
She was one hundred per cent sure. The key was gone.
Her face set in lines of anger.
Liam Quinn. How could she have been so wrong?
24
There had been something so solid and dependable about Quinn, Melanie had felt safe in his company. It made her squirm when she thought of it. Maybe she’d listen to Caitlin and go back to a counsellor when all this was sorted. A professional might be able to tell her why she continued to make such a mess of things. She pressed her lips together. She was not going to cry here; Rona could pop in at any time and there was a rumour that she reported any odd carry-on straight to the top.
Needing to get out of the office, even for a short while, she headed to the staffroom, hoping it would be empty. It was a comfortable, pleasant room, and at lunchtime there would be a constant trickle of people in and out but now it was quiet. The aroma of coffee filled the room; it tempted her to pour a mug she didn’t really want. She sat with it cupped in her hands and heaved a sigh as a memory of Cherry popped into her head. Not the grown-up woman she’d never met but the child she’d known, full of laughter and hopes for a future that had been cut so short. Maybe it was a lesson Melanie needed to learn. There was only today, no promise of tomorrow. She needed to stop waiting around and act.
Picking up her mobile, she checked for a reply from Caitlin. Nothing. Tapping her thumb against the side of it, she thought about her next step. There didn’t seem to be much choice. She needed to speak to Quinn… to confront him, with or without that background check. The easiest, and certainly safest way, was to have him call to the office. He didn’t know about the letter from Eric and she’d given him no reason to believe she suspected him. She rang Rabbie and Henderson’s to request an investigator. ‘I used Liam Quinn the last time so if he were free, for continuity, it would be great if I could use him again.’
‘No problem,’ the administrator said quickly. ‘Is this for an immediate start?’
‘Yes, it’s rather urgent.’ Melanie wanted to talk to him today, while her tenuous grasp on courage lasted. ‘It’s not going to be for long though, a few hours’ work. Today, if at all possible.’
‘A few hours? Hmmm, okay, let me check and see what I can do.’
With her mobile pressed tightly to her ear, Melanie would swear she heard fingers flying over the keyboard, tap-tap-tapping to find the information she wanted. What if he were tied up on another job, unable to meet for days, weeks even? She couldn’t s
tand many more days of this uncertainty, this fear, and she knew her courage would have deserted her by then. She’d been holding her breath, she let it out in a quiet hiss as the tapping continued for a few more seconds, then stopped.
‘Yes, that’s fine, Ms Scott, I’ve moved a few things about. I’ll contact Liam and ask him to get in touch with you. That should be within an hour, okay?’
Within the hour. Couldn’t be better. ‘That’s fine.’ Melanie hung up and took the coffee back to her office. She sat sipping it, waiting for the phone to ring. It struck her that she should have asked for him to ring her mobile not the office phone. With the merger on hold, there wasn’t any reason she should be employing an investigator. Rona was already viewing her with suspicious eyes and if she was, did that mean Richard and the other senior partners were too? She picked up her mobile to ring Rabbie and Henderson and request that Quinn ring her mobile when her desk phone rang. She was too late. ‘A call from Liam Quinn for you,’ Rona said, her voice cool. ‘He says you’re expecting it.’
Maybe Melanie was imagining the underlying note of curiosity, she kept her own voice cool and casual. ‘Yes, that’s fine, put him through, please.’ She waited a beat, then as calm as she could, said, ‘Hi, Liam. Thanks for getting back to me.’
She came to a quick decision; Rona was already suspicious and overly curious about what she was doing, having Liam come to the office would add fuel to that particular fire. Thinking on her feet, she said, ‘There’s some work I’d like to discuss with you. I did say it needed to be done immediately but something has come up since. Can we meet in the same place as last time, say at about six thirty?’
There was the merest whisper of a hesitation before he agreed to both time and location. ‘I’ll see you then,’ he said and hung up.
Melanie replaced the receiver and sat back. The pub would be busy at six thirty, it would be a safe place to meet. What could he do to her in a room full of people? Now that she had the meeting arranged, she needed to think of a plan. Everything was still so very vague and hazy. Circumstantial, DI Elliot would probably have said and he’d have been right. She sighed. Maybe before the end of the day, Caitlin would get back to her with something she could use.
But the next phone call didn’t give her the enlightenment she wanted; it wasn’t even from Caitlin but from DI Elliot. ‘I was thinking about you earlier,’ she said when Rona put his call through, no mere hint of curiosity in her voice, it was rampant.
‘In a good way, I hope?’ Elliot said.
‘Of course,’ Melanie said without elaborating. ‘Now, how can I help you?’
‘I was wondering if you’d remembered who else you’d told about Hugo. I had a feeling you weren’t being entirely honest with me.’
Melanie frowned and tapped her middle finger on the desk. Perhaps this was too good an opportunity to miss. ‘Actually,’ she said slowly, ‘you’re right, there was one other person.’
‘Okay, and this person is?’
‘You might even know him, Liam Quinn, he’s ex-police, works now for Rabbie and Henderson, the private investigation service. I’m meeting him tonight to discuss some work I need him to do for me… about the merger,’ she lied blithely. ‘If you want to have a word with him, you could join us. We’re meeting at The Fulham Arms, it’s on the corner of Fulham and Cassidy Road.’ Wouldn’t that be the perfect safety net for her meeting with Quinn, for a policeman to arrive and if she were having a problem to save the day? ‘I’m meeting him at seven thirty,’ she said. That should give her enough time to speak to Quinn first.
There was silence as if Elliot were considering the wisdom of this. ‘Yes, I might do that.’
Melanie mouthed a yes. ‘Okay, I’ll see you tonight,’ she said and hung up.
She booked a taxi for five-thirty and tried to concentrate on getting some work done for the rest of the day, frequently losing focus as her mind drifted over the disaster her life had become. Hopefully, tonight she’d find a way to get through it.
At five-twenty, she stood and stretched. Time to go. She put on and belted her raincoat slowly while she considered whether to take her briefcase with her or not. All she needed was her purse and keys, and the coat had big pockets. She took out what she needed and shoved her briefcase under her desk. Down in reception, she waved a goodbye to the front-of-house staff as she walked through and gave the always-vigilant Dan a smile.
‘You want me to check outside for you?’ he said.
Startled, she turned to look at him. ‘Sorry?’
‘In case your ex is hanging around again.’ Dan nodded towards the exit. ‘You can’t be too careful.’
He was being kind, wasn’t he? You can’t be too careful. Perhaps she’d imagined the emphasis that made it sound vaguely like a threat. She seemed to have lost her ability to judge. How could she with her history of being so easily fooled? ‘That’s not necessary,’ she said sharply. She turned away without further comment, walked briskly to the door and pushed through.
Outside, her taxi was waiting; she climbed in, trying to put Dan’s hurt expression from her mind. When she saw him next, she’d apologise. It wasn’t his fault she was becoming paranoid. She dropped her head back on the headrest and shut her eyes, feeling the hot sting of tears. She didn’t move until, almost an hour later, the taxi stopped outside The Fulham Arms.
It wasn’t as busy as she’d expected. The table where they’d sat the last time was vacant and she took the seat Quinn had sat in then, facing the door, ready for him. She took off her coat and draped it over the chair to claim possession before heading to the bar. ‘A mineral water, please.’ She waited, her eyes flitting to the door, while the bartender filled her order and rang up the till. Quinn was late, she realised, handing over the money and taking her drink to the table.
It wasn’t until six forty, that she saw him coming through, looking a little more dishevelled than last time, his face a little grey, patches of stubble on his chin from a quick or careless shave. She could feel her lips curving into a sneer; maybe guilt was getting to him.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ he said, reaching the table. He jerked his head towards the bar. ‘I’ll get a drink, you want anything?’ He waited until she’d shaken her head before heading to where the lone bartender was pulling a pint for another customer.
Despite everything going round in her head all day, Melanie still had no idea how she was going to approach the conversation. When her mobile rang, she was tempted to ignore it, but a quick look told her it was Caitlin. Maybe it was the news Melanie had been waiting for? Quinn still hadn’t been served. Keeping her eyes on him, she answered it. ‘Caitlin, hi, you got my message?’
‘Yes, sorry, it’s been manic here today.’
Melanie saw Quinn give his order and knew she had only a couple of minutes. There was no time for chit-chat. ‘Did you manage to find out anything for me?’
‘A bit. He’s got a nasty temper, your Liam Quinn. That’s why he left the police. It wasn’t his choice, Mel, he was thrown out. He’s been in trouble since too, arrested for aggravated assault but not charged because surprise, surprise, the only witness vanished. I also have his school details but I doubt if they’ll be of interest to you, and finally he’s originally from Leeds. That’s it.’
‘Leeds,’ Melanie squeaked. ‘Are you sure?’
‘That’s what it says. Why, what’s Leeds got to do with anything?’
Leeds. Where Matthew and Eric Thomas lived before the family moved to Wethersham. ‘Nothing, just surprised, that’s all.’ Melanie watched the bartender place a pint on the counter. ‘I have to go. Thanks, Caitlin, that was good timing. I’m having a drink with Quinn now.’
‘What? Where are you?’
‘We’re in a pub. Sorry, have to go,’ Melanie said and cut the connection, switching it off when it immediately rang again as she saw Quinn turn to come back. It was still only circumstantial rather than confirmation, but it was enough. She watched him cross the pub towards her, the pint in
his hand. The bastard. She wanted to stand, take his pint and throw it at him, poke him in the eye with her manicured fingernails, slap him very hard across his smug face.
Instead, she watched while he settled into the seat opposite.
He took a long drink of his pint and put the glass down. ‘Sorry again for being late, I’ve had a busy few days.’ He smiled slightly, tilting his head to one side as he looked at her. ‘To be honest, I only accepted this job because it was you.’
Yes, but not, as he was trying to insinuate, because he was attracted to her. She wasn’t going to fall for that again. No, she knew why he wanted to take this job, maybe not the details – she didn’t know what his connection was with Eric or Matthew – but armed with Caitlin’s information, Melanie felt surer of her position. It was time to go in for the attack, aim for the jugular. His obvious exhaustion would, she decided, play in her favour.
‘And why is that exactly?’ She didn’t know if it was the question itself, or the confrontational way she said it that made him sit back, eyes narrowing. ‘Go on, tell me why you were so interested in seeing me again.’ When he continued to sit staring at her, with a hard look in those grey eyes, she leaned towards him with a triumphant laugh. ‘You can’t, can you?’ There was an edge of hysteria to the laugh, she bit it off and sat back.
He picked up his pint, drained it and waved the empty glass towards the bar, standing and moving away without a word. It gave her a few minutes to try to calm down. Now that she was here, it wasn’t proving as easy as she’d expected to remain in control.
When he returned, he had a pint in one hand and a small glass in the other. He put it on the table in front of her. ‘Lagavulin, wasn’t it?’ he said, and took his seat.
The Deadly Truth Page 15
