Chapter 34 Leila
Leila
Hitting pause, I try to recall where I’ve heard that before. It takes me a few seconds before I recognize that it’s Daniella’s shop. Eddie Sorrington’s wife. I remember it from the law fair when she was giving out free manicures.
I call Davina. She answers immediately.
“You need to get over here. We’ve got a problem.”
—
Fifteen minutes later, I’m driving us to the salon. We need to figure out what this is about before everything closes for Christmas. The fact Eddie Sorrington has potentially become relevant in this case is troubling.
As far as “hard men” go, Sorrington’s up there.
There are figureheads at the top of every criminal network.
The stupid ones make mistakes and get caught.
The savvy ones recruit other people to do the slippery work for them.
Eddie is the latter. The official line is that he’s made his money from property investment, car sales, and a chain of beauty salons across Durham.
Those of us who are more worldly know this couldn’t possibly pay for the holidays to Dubai, the supercars, the huge houses, and the multiple kids in private schools.
It’s more likely funded through drugs and money-laundering.
The police would love to get him, but, apart from some time for petty stuff when he was younger, he hasn’t slipped up.
Yet.
“Jack is adamant he doesn’t want to grass anyone up. What if the person he’s trying to protect is Eddie? They’re very close,” Davina says, no doubt concerned about the person who funds the majority of her clients’ fees. This trip is making her edgy.
“We’ve got three weeks until the trial. I’m not prepared to stand in front of a jury with nothing to say.”
“It might not come to that.” She shrugs. “There’s still time. Anything could come to light between now and then.”
“This isn’t a film, Davina. When have you ever seen that happen in real life?”
“I’m just saying, there’s obviously more to this story, and it’ll come out eventually. I do love a good plot twist.”
“I appreciate your enthusiasm, Davina, but in my professional experience, the ultimate plot twist is there is no twist. The answers are usually in front of you the whole time, and if you miss them, it’s because you aren’t looking properly.
But the last-minute confessions, the hidden evidence found with seconds to spare—they’re myths.
A good lawyer should be able to spot them a mile off. ”
“You’re no fun at all.” She laughs.
“Sorry.” I smile. “Now, are you coming in with me or not?”
—
Electric Dreams looks like a money-laundering front: cheap neon sign outside, palm tree decals on the windows.
A bell chimes on the door when we enter, alerting everyone in the nail salon that we’ve arrived.
It’s rammed with customers, presumably in the pre-Christmas rush, and “Last Christmas” by Wham!
blasts out at a volume that’s too high for my liking.
Daniella walks over to us. The smell of acrylics is overpowering but strangely comforting. She smiles at me, delivering the faintest glimmer of recognition.
“I hope you’re looking after our Jack, Miss Reynolds,” she says. There’s still something about her glazed, not-fully-with-it look I can’t work out. She also appears to have lost weight since the last time I saw her. The black jumper dress she’s wearing hangs off her tiny frame. “He’s a good boy.”
“I didn’t realize how well you knew him,” Davina says.
“Oh, well, you know, he’s a very good family friend,” she explains.
“He’s always around the house. If anything needs fixing, he’s the man I call.
Eddie is useless with stuff like that. Jack’s always on hand when Eddie’s away on business, if I need help with anything.
There’s just no way he’s done this. Jack isn’t a murderer.
You need to make sure the jury sees that. ”
“I’m doing my best.” I smile at her. “Lovely shop. Had it long?”
“Six years. Eddie bought it for me. I’ve always loved beauty and fashion.”
Glancing around the salon, I see another neon sign on the wall, written in swirly writing. Don’t You Want Me, Baby?
She catches me looking.
“It was Eddie’s idea to get that. He’s very hands-on with how he wants his places to look. I actually was a waitress in a cocktail bar when he met me. Cheesy, I know! First dance at our wedding.”
Davina instinctively pulls the kind of face you’d expect her to pull at a woman saying this, which prompts Daniella’s face to redden.
“Oh, I know that sounds weird!” she says, laughing to hide her embarrassment. “A song about…well…”
“A man controlling you?” Davina interrupts.
“I suppose. But it’s not like that. I know he’s forceful with certain people, but he’s not like that with me. He’s really done a lot for me.”
There’s something about how she says this that I don’t like. And by the look on Davina’s face, she doesn’t, either. Especially now that we know Eddie has a proclivity for watching women give blow jobs on a secret sex camera.
“How long have you been together?” I ask her.
“Twenty-two years in June.”
“Congratulations!”
“Yes, a long time. We have—sorry, had—three great kids. We married young. God knows where I would have ended up without him. I’m lucky to have the life I do!”
She’s upbeat, a contrast to how she spoke to me at the law fair. I wonder if I caught her in a moment of vulnerability then. Is she performing for Davina?
Daniella is one of those women who looks polished from afar, but up close, the cracks show. Her face has obviously had enhancements by way of Botox and fillers, but her overall look is drawn and tired.
“Daniella, we wondered if we could ask you about the time Jack came in wanting to speak with your husband on September 6.”
“On the day of the, erm…”
“The alleged murder, yes…”
“He spoke with Eddie, not me.”
“Do you still have the CCTV from that day?” I ask her. I’m pushing it a bit, but we need something to latch on to.
“Yes, of course.”
She leads us back through to the office and fiddles around with the computer before leaving us to it.
The time stamp says Friday, September 6, 2024, 1:32 p.m. Jack’s phone records indicate he’d already called Eddie multiple times before he left the club.
The jury will wonder what was so urgent that he needed to speak to Eddie on the phone and then follow up in person.
The camera shows Jack walking into the salon and waiting at reception.
He looks bothered; he can’t stand still and is repeatedly dragging his hands through his hair.
After about thirty seconds, Eddie walks from the back of the salon to the front.
He appears to be in a rush, edging toward the door as Jack talks to him and gesticulates animatedly with his hands.
Eddie grows impatient and keeps looking at his watch. Jack attempts to guide him into the office—away from the body of the salon for privacy, it seems.
Then Daniella emerges from the office, and something changes.
Jack spots her standing in the doorway and stops. It’s as if he has second thoughts about the entire thing. Moving away from Eddie, he walks backward toward the door and grabs the handle, opening it. Eddie looks bewildered as Jack leaves.
By 1:38 p.m., he’s gone.