‘Well, why the bloody hell didn’t he mention it?’
‘Because you never asked, apparently.’
Harry shook his head. ‘That man’s beginning to seriously piss me off. There’s got to be more to it than that.’
‘I agree. If it’s any consolation, he was looking a bit worried when I left – especially after I told him we might need to bring him down to the station for further questioning.’
‘Well, let’s hope he takes the threat seriously.’
He straightened up and knocked back the rest of his coffee in one go. ‘Does Murray know about these developments?’
She shook her head. ‘He was on the phone when I came in and didn’t look to be in the best of moods. I thought I’d leave it to you.’
‘Thanks – can’t say I blame you, though. He can be a cantankerous bugger sometimes. Catch you later.’
At the door he turned back to face her. ‘Well done for all that, by the way. You’ve done a good job.’
She felt a little glow at his approval, though she did her best to look nonchalant. It was one of the things she was beginning to love about working here – the effort she put in seemed to be appreciated. And she wasn’t used to that. It was a nice feeling.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Kirsty leafed her way through her father’s diary, linking his appointments with the relevant files, her mind not really on the job. She’d woken up that morning so convinced she’d got a lead to follow after her conversation with Susan, but now it felt like she’d come to a dead end. She’d spent half the day going through his diary and correspondence but had found nothing linking him to Paul Copeland. It had been Robbie who’d handled the tenancy details and odd bits of correspondence, not her father. Maybe Rob was right and she was barking up the wrong tree. Coincidences did happen after all – and how likely was it really, that their father would be caught up in some criminal activity? It seemed ludicrous even for her overactive imagination. And yet…
On impulse she jumped up from her desk and opened the archived filing cabinet, pulling out a folder marked Land Bordering Dip Farm. This had been the start of her troubles – the sale of her grandmother’s land. She’d been doing work experience at Jordan’s to give her an insight into the legal side of their transactions, when she’d come across the details of the deal they’d done. She’d been shocked – and ashamed – of what her father had done.
‘What have you got there?’
Rob’s voice from the doorway made her jump and she instinctively slammed the file shut, replacing it in the cabinet.
‘Nothing in particular. I’m just familiarising myself with Dad’s filing system. How was your lunch with Simon?’
‘Okay. He asked after you – sent his love, for what it’s worth.’
‘I hope you threw it back in his face?’
Her brother sighed. ‘No, Kirsty, I didn’t. Whatever went on between you two, I’m not getting involved. We do a lot of business with Jordan’s and we shouldn’t let personal stuff cloud our relationship with them. Dad and Tony were friends for over fifty years – we’ve known Simon all our lives.’
‘And I’ve never liked him.’
‘That’s not exactly true. I remember a time …’
‘Oh, for God’s sake, I was fifteen – it was a schoolgirl crush.’
‘But it wasn’t a schoolgirl crush in February, was it?’
‘Thanks, Rob.’
‘I’m just saying. He’s going to be at the funeral on Thursday. I hope you’re not going to make things difficult?’
‘Oh, get lost. As if I would. Anyway, I’ll have more than enough on my plate dealing with Luke.’
‘Luke’s way too much of a gentleman to make a scene at a funeral.’
‘Well, for all our sakes let’s hope you’re right.’
He turned away from her and headed for his office. She hesitated, but knew she had to clear the air with him. ‘Have you got a moment?’ she asked, following him through.
He chucked his coat on the back of a chair and turned to look at her. ‘A quick one. I’ve got an appointment in Totteridge. What’s up?’
She took a deep breath. ‘Is there anything going on that I should know about?’
‘What do you mean?’
When she just looked at him, he frowned irritably. ‘There’s nothing going on, Kirsty.’
‘What about the money you gave to Susan Porter? You know Simon as well as I do. He’s not the type to give someone like her money because he feels sorry for her.’
‘Yeah, well maybe there was a bit more to it than that, I don’t know. He said he wants to do the flat up – maybe even sell it. It’s not illegal. He wants the flat back and is prepared to buy the tenant out. We’ve done it loads of times and Susan was over the moon with the offer. One minute the poor girl’s sick with worry about not being able to afford the rent, and the next she’s walking away with a couple of grand in her pocket. You tell me the negative in that.’
Kirsty didn’t want this … didn’t want to be hearing that it all made sense when her instincts told her that it didn’t. She took a breath.
‘Did Susan also tell you that she thought Paul might be mixed up in something suspicious? That she told Dad about it?’
‘No. Mixed up in what?’
‘She wouldn’t say. She was terrified, Rob. There’s something going on, I know there is.’
‘Maybe there is – or was – with Paul. But don’t confuse it with what happened to Dad.’
‘But don’t you see? Maybe what she told Dad is the reason he was killed, too. It’s too much of a coincidence.’
Her brother sighed. ‘Kirsty, coincidences happen … look how we bumped into the Campbells on a walking safari in the middle of Africa. Who’d have expected that? Honestly, I don’t know what’s got into you. This obsession you seem to have that Dad was murdered … it’s not helping things. Shit happens. He was hit by a car and the driver drove off – probably because he was pissed. Of course we want the bastard caught, but I can’t believe it’s got anything to do with Paul Copeland.’
She so wanted to believe him – so wanted to be able to leave it to the police to handle – but there was a niggling anxiety that just wouldn’t let go, and she knew she needed to do some sorting in her head. Was it possible that Rob knew more than he was letting on? She hated herself for even thinking it, but there was a dark side to Rob that she’d never understood – his villain moments he’d jokingly call them … saying she’d be shocked if she knew the thoughts that ran through his head sometimes. Even Lizzie had confided there were times she felt she didn’t know her husband. ‘And then if I get upset with him about something … you know – a bit teary as you do, he gets all angry with me … tells me not to be such a girl. He says he can’t deal with women when they’re like that. He doesn’t get that we’re wired differently to men, and that for us, tears are often just a release mechanism.’
Kirsty watched as her brother gathered some papers together. ‘I’ve got to go,’ he said. ‘Will you be okay here on your own?’
She shrugged moodily. ‘I’ve managed alright so far today. I can do it, Rob. I resent that you went to Mum behind my back and made out that I’d be more of a hindrance than a help.’
‘That’s not how it was.’ His expression eased a little as he circled his desk to place a hand on her shoulder. ‘Of course you can help, but what I don’t need is you stirring everything up at a difficult time. I’m sorry to say this, but you’re not always the most relaxing of people to have around. You know that.’
His words got to her, but she didn’t rise.
‘What time are you leaving today?’ he asked.
She shrugged. ‘I’ll go through some more of Dad’s stuff – get myself up to speed with what’s going on, and then head off home to Mum. I spoke to her earlier – she’s in a stew over the funeral arrangements.’
‘Well, just don’t go feeding her all this stuff about Dad’s death being more than an accident. She doesn’t n
eed that on top of everything else.’
‘Maybe we need to prepare her–’
‘No, Kirsty – she’s got enough on her plate. In the unlikely event the police do turn something up, we’ll handle it then.’
‘So you admit it’s possible?’
‘Of course it’s possible; I just don’t think it’s likely. So until we hear to the contrary …’
‘Fine.’
‘Don’t be like that …’ He squeezed her shoulder. ‘I know it’s hard for you to let things lie, but it’s only been a few days since Dad’s accident. Let the police get on with their job and gather what information they can. Once we know what we’re dealing with, we can take it from there. If there’s anything suspicious, you’ll have my full support. I promise you.’
His eyes were genuinely sympathetic and for the first time she got the impression that he was taking her concerns seriously. She felt her muscles relax a little.
‘Okay. I’ll hold you to that. Will you be coming over later?’
‘I’ll try to. I’ve got a lot to get on with here, and I want to get over to the flat to do some work there, but if I can drop by on my way home, I will. Call me if you need me for anything.’
Five minutes later he was on his way out again, throwing her a careless wave as he went. She watched as he crossed the road, brushing aside the hurt she felt. It was natural now he was married, that as little sister, her nose had been put out of joint. She needed to toughen up, get a life of her own.
And as soon as the funeral was over, she would.
As Kirsty entered the house a couple of hours later, she could hear low voices coming from the lounge. She took a breath, hanging her keys on the hook, before following the sound of those voices.
‘Kirsty.’ Her mother looked pleased to see her. ‘You remember Dan?’
‘Of course.’
Kirsty looked over at the white-haired man. It had always been something of a family joke that Daniel Curtis hadn’t married because he’d never got over his first love for her mother – but now that her father was no longer there, it suddenly didn’t seem quite so funny anymore. She was sure he’d only come to offer his condolences, but she couldn’t help it, she found her hackles rising at the sight of him sitting in her father’s chair.
‘Have you had a good day at the office?’ her mother asked.
‘It was okay, busy. Do you want me to get supper on? What have we got?’
‘It’s all sorted and ready to go but that would be helpful – I’m going to run Dan home. His car’s at the garage being repaired and he got a cab over here, bless him. It just needs putting in the oven if you don’t mind? It’s the chicken casserole on the hob.’
‘I’ll see to it, then I’ll nip up for a shower after that.’ She was glad of an excuse to leave them. ‘Drive carefully.’
Later, as they sat down to supper together in the kitchen, her mother looked at her over the table.
‘I could sense there was a bit of a chill with Dan. You’ve no need to worry, you know. He was just being nice popping over to see how I was, and it was the least I could do to drop him home, seeing as he didn’t have a car.’
‘I know. I’m sorry. It just took me by surprise, seeing him there. Maybe don’t mention to Rob that he dropped by? You know what he can be like.’
‘Kirsty, I’m not going to start treading on eggshells just to pander to Rob’s sensitivities. Were things any easier with him today? I did have a quiet word with him about things when he rang.’
‘We’re getting there.’
‘Good. I can’t bear to see the two of you at loggerheads. And he’s got a lot on his plate at the moment with a young family, the business and trying to get that wretched flat they bought ready for letting.’
‘I don’t understand what’s taking him so long. Anyone would think he didn’t want to get it let. They bought it a year ago. It should have been well finished by now.’
‘Kirsty you have no idea what pressure a new baby puts on a family – let alone when it’s twins.’
Kirsty shrugged. ‘It just seems to be taking forever. Anyway … You said on the phone you were worrying about the arrangements for Thursday?’
‘Yes, I hardly got any sleep last night. Can we just go through it all? Make sure we’ve got everything covered…?’
CHAPTER SEVENTEN
‘Good morning.’
Harry looked up from his desk as Beth breezed over, looking chirpy as a baby bird in spring.
‘Is it?’ he asked wearily.
It didn’t feel like a good morning to him. It had been a long night where he hadn’t got a wink of sleep for worry, and it hadn’t been the Paul Copeland case that had kept him awake either. It had been the sound of his grandmother throwing up into her bowl in the room next door to him, which had happened several times during the course of the night.
‘Yup, it’s definitely a good morning,’ Beth said, perching on the edge of his desk. ‘And I think you’ll agree with me when you hear what I’ve got to say.’
Harry waited.
‘I was here till nearly ten o’clock last night.’
‘I’ll make sure you get a medal.’
Beth pulled a face.
‘It turned out to be fascinating stuff going through those CCTVs. Want to come and see?’
Now she did have his attention.
‘I don’t share your fascination with CCTV. Just tell me.’
‘It shows our Ken following Paul Copeland as far as the road where he lived. There’s no coverage after that. But – and this is where it gets good – it also shows Ken driving in his car along the same route the next morning, and turning into Myton Road – where again we lose him.’
‘The day of the murder?’ Harry mused. ‘What time?’
‘Nine-fifteen.’
‘Maybe he was casing the place?’
‘Maybe – we know Copeland met up with the reporter after that so Ken couldn’t have done anything then. But he could have called back later and got Paul into his car under some pretext or other and … bingo. Opportunity to murder.’
Harry gave it some thought. ‘It’s a possibility. Good work.’
‘But that’s not all. I was checking out the CCTV in the area where Dominic Cartwright got run over and guess what I saw there?’
Harry couldn’t help smiling at the way she was looking so pleased with herself. It transformed her face when she smiled like that, softening the severe effect of the short hair, which he was beginning to suspect was a bit of a front. He remembered how she’d clammed up when he’d asked about her family, and realised that she gave very little away about herself at all. Even though he suspected that was a deliberate ploy on her part, he resolved to at least show a bit of interest when the time was right. He knew how difficult it could be moving to a new area.
‘Don’t tell me,’ he responded to her question. ‘The car that ran him over?’
‘Yeah … in your dreams. That would be too easy. There isn’t any CCTV on that residential road. But the main road is different. This one I think you’ll be interested to see … come on.’
A few minutes later, looking over Beth’s shoulder in the airy incident room, Harry gave a start of surprise at the sight of the man walking into the main entrance of the pub near where Dominic Cartwright had been run over. He frowned, peering closer at the grainy image as Beth froze it.
‘I know him … but where from? It’s a crap picture.’
‘Jordan’s Solicitors, remember? He’s the son, Simon Jordan.’
‘Of course.’ Harry peered closer. ‘Now that is interesting. What’s he doing there? De Souza did say Dominic Cartwright was meeting someone for a drink. Could it have been him?’
‘He didn’t mention it, did he? Do you want me to call him? Arrange to see him?’
But on phoning Simon’s office, Beth was informed that he was in Manchester for the day on business, and not back until later that evening.
‘No worries,’ Harry told her. ‘He’ll b
e at the funeral tomorrow, I’m sure. I’ll have a word with him then.’
***
It was as difficult as she’d known it was going to be, but however hard it was for her, Kirsty knew it was worse for her mother – who’d been tearful all morning, and now sat with a miniature picture of her husband clasped tightly in one hand. They stood, arms linked, in the first pew as two of her father’s closest friends gave moving eulogies to the man Dominic Cartwright had been. They stood through the short memorial service conducted by the vicar and then they moved as if in a trance back to the cars for the silent drive to the crematorium. Kirsty’s head was full of memories of the complexities that made up her father: his extrovert, sometimes brash personality that could have her cringing with embarrassment or roaring with laughter in the same breath; the way he’d spread his arms wide, even now she was an adult, to envelop her in that enormous bear-hug; his tenacious, protective love for all his family; his impatience and irritable withdrawal from them all when something was on his mind. Life had been never been easy with Dominic Cartwright around, but nor had it been dull.
And now he was gone, leaving an enormous void where once he’d reigned supreme … and no one seemed any nearer to bringing the person guilty for his death to justice.
She thought about the phone call she’d had from Susan Porter last night and shook her head in wonder. She’d never have believed it – that she would hear from her again – but the woman had been drinking, she could tell, and was tearful.
‘I’ll meet you,’ she’d sobbed. ‘Tell you what I know. I saw Paul’s parents today – it was awful. It made me realise that we need to know who killed him. They need to be punished. When can we meet?’
And because Kirsty didn’t want her changing her mind when she’d sobered up and had time to think, they’d agreed to meet tonight, after the funeral proceedings.
***
At the golf club the welcome line seemed to go on forever. It felt wrong. Wasn’t this something you did at weddings rather than funerals? Yet Kirsty went along with it and supposed it made sense – it might be the only chance some people got to pay their respects to her mother.
THE JAGGED LINE A Thrilling, Psychological Crime Mystery (Harry Briscombe Book 2) Page 12
