Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Flynn’s regular shift pattern was four on and four off.
He worked long hours, then had a good chunk of time off to recover and it always felt like a good schedule.
Working extra took its toll. Usually he’d focus on the overtime pay to get him through, but knowing Lily would be at home at the end of his shift worked even better.
The twelve-hour shift left him drained. Still, he felt a jolt of joy at the sound of Lily humming to herself when he opened the door to the flat.
“Hello,” he said, looking down at her on the couch.
Flat on her back, she beamed up at him. “Hello, yourself. How was your day?”
“Long and busy. How was yours?”
“Same. Probably not as busy as yours, but it’s been pretty eventful.”
“I saw your message about Mr Harper. That’s good that he called.”
“He sounded nice.”
“Are you going to meet him?”
“Yes.” She made room for him on the couch, then settled her head in his lap once he sat down. “Monday morning back at their offices. Can you drive me over there?”
“Yes.” He trailed his fingers through her hair. “Do you think he’ll be able to tell you anything?”
“He thinks he probably can’t help, but it’ll be interesting to talk to him. In my head, I’d imagined some ruthless guy who didn’t care about anything but profits, but he didn’t sound like that. He said he’s thought about me and wondered if I might look for him one day.”
“So it didn’t sound as though he had anything to hide?”
“No. If anything, I get the impression he’d like to get to the bottom of it too.”
Flynn nodded, a wave of tiredness crashing into him.
“Tell me about your day,” Lily said.
He gave a quick shake of his head as an image of his last call of the day came back to him. “No.”
“Go on,” Lily coaxed. “I miss hearing your policing stories.”
He rubbed at his left eye. “Back on St Mary’s my policing stories were like gentle bedtime stories. Here, they’re likely to give you nightmares.” He tried to keep his tone light, but clearly failed. Lily shifted to look up at him.
“Did you have a bad call?” she asked.
He nodded slowly.
“Tell me about it. If you want.”
He shrugged. “We got a call about a disturbance. The neighbours called it in. Arrived to find a man had beaten his wife almost to death.”
The way Lily sucked in a quiet breath should probably have been his sign to stop talking.
“I don’t know if she’ll survive,” he said, the words tumbling out of him.
“And there’s a part of me that wonders if she might be better off if she doesn’t.
Not just because of the physical pain she’ll endure if she wakes up.
But because she’ll have to live knowing that the person who’s supposed to love her the most did that to her.
” Tears blurred his vision. “How will she deal with that?”
“Sorry,” Lily said, sitting up and wrapping her arms around him. “It sounds horrific.”
He drew in a breath, shrugged again. “There are a lot of scumbags in the world.”
“I love you,” she said and kissed his cheek.
“Sorry.” He touched his forehead to hers. “I shouldn’t have told you that.”
“You should. Better to talk about it than bottle it up.”
He felt a little better, so she was probably right. “Tell me about your day,” he said, sinking back into the couch.
She pulled her legs up and draped them over his knees. “Do you want to hear about the sightseeing, or about how I think someone might have killed your landlord?”
The laughter that bubbled in his throat made him choke, and he turned his head to cough into the crook of his arm.
“Are you laughing at me?” Lily asked indignantly.
“Yes! I thought you were going to lighten the mood, but you started talking about murder.”
She rolled her eyes. “Okay fine. I went for a walk in Hyde Park and I went to Buckingham Palace…”
“Shut up!” He elbowed her lightly. “Why do you think someone killed Mr Latham?”
“Several reasons. I told you things seemed strange in his flat. I found screws on the sideboard that I think were the ones previously holding the bookcase in place.”
“Mr Latham probably took them out to move the bookcase. He was probably trying to move it when it fell on him.”
“Maria suggested the same.” She frowned. “It’s plausible. But someone moved the screws. That doesn’t make sense.”
“What do you mean someone moved the screws?”
“I went back into his flat.” She grimaced. “I wanted to take his plate back.”
Flynn smiled. “You thought he might be missing it?”
She scrunched her face up and gave him a friendly poke in the ribs. “No. I just felt uncomfortable keeping hold of it.”
“That was the only reason you went back in there?” he asked mockingly. “How did you get in, by the way?”
“Caroline had a spare key. Which she forgot to hand in to the police. That seems dodgy if you ask me. Anyway, when I was returning the plate, I noticed the screws had gone from the sideboard. Like someone removed the evidence.” She widened her eyes dramatically, and he almost didn’t want to burst her bubble.
“Like the police, maybe? Sometimes they do like to remove evidence. We have special plastic bags for it and everything.”
“Oh.” Her pout was kind of cute. It was gone again quickly. “Maybe the police took them, maybe not. There are also other strange goings on. For example, I caught Mr Patel trying to get into Mr Latham’s letter box. With a fork, no less. Tell me that’s not strange.”
Now she’d definitely lightened his mood. He grinned at her. “A fork?”
“Yeah.”
“Did he have any luck?”
“Don’t think so. He said he was trying to find something with a return address to try to track down Mr Latham’s relatives.”
“Why would he want to do that if he killed the guy?”
“I don’t think that was really what he was doing. That was only his excuse.”
“Okay.” Flynn yawned. “I assume you’ve figured out Mr Patel’s motive for killing the landlord?”
She pursed her lips. “Not entirely. He lost his job recently, and they’ve had some financial problems and got behind with the rent.”
“That makes sense,” Flynn said, deadpan. “Kill your landlord and never have to pay rent again. It’s a wonder any landlords are still alive, really.”
“You’re teasing me,” she said, a flash of defiance in her eyes.
“Sorry.” He leaned his head back. “I’m tired. And hungry. Have you eaten?”
“No. I was waiting for you. Do you fancy going out?”
“Not really. We could get a takeaway.”
He caught the disappointment in her eyes, but he really couldn’t muster any enthusiasm for going out.
“Okay,” she said.
“Sorry, I’m done in.”
“That’s fine,” she said, all fake cheer. “Takeaway sounds good. I should have assumed you wouldn’t want to go out.”
“Where did you want to go?” he asked, certain she had somewhere in mind.
“Nowhere special. It’s only that Mr Patel mentioned this place down the road that does BBQ pulled pork. He was raving about it, and I got it in my head.”
“Okay.” He sighed as his mouth watered. “Now you’ve got it in my head. Is it nearby?”
“A ten-minute walk. Aiden works there.”
“Do I know Aiden?”
“He lives upstairs.”
Flynn rolled his eyes. “Is your sudden interest in the restaurant really to do with pulled pork or is it some sort of detective mission?”
“It’s about the food,” she said, grinning. “I’m really happy to get a takeaway. We don’t need to go out.”
“Except you’ve got me thinking about the pulled pork and now that’s all I want.”
“Let’s go now,” she said. “We can eat and be home and cosy in no time.”
Flynn gathered the last of his energy and dragged himself off the couch, ignoring the niggling feeling that Lily was on one of her missions.