Chapter 18 #2
I switched back to my work computer, logging into the database to see what had been uploaded.
I was disappointed; nothing was there yet.
The evidence log was in the process of being updated, so there was nothing there yet either.
It would be tomorrow afternoon before I could see what had been found in there.
What was it that had gotten Amanda killed?
Who had their sights on this woman who seemingly kept herself to herself, working and gardening and helping to feed other people?
I closed both laptops, hearing two male voices this time, and loud footsteps coming up the stairs. I left my bed and headed onto the landing, seeing Taz and a man who had to be his brother; similar age, the same eyes and build, but with shorter hair and slightly darker skin.
“Mia, this is my brother, Matty. Matty, this is Mia, who’s squatting here.” He pointed up to a crack in the ceiling that I’d been assured was not concerning.
“That just needs plastering over. Old houses move. You need to keep that cornice though. And original ceiling roses – nice.” He inspected the walls and light fittings as if assessing a prized cow.
“Thank you, and seriously, if you have better things to do then please don’t be bullied by your brother.” I glared at Taz.
Matty laughed. “Yeah, I’ve never been bullied by that little shit, and besides, if he tried to do your plumbing you’d end up with Niagara Falls pouring through your ceiling.”
Taz folded his arms. “Unfair. That was only once and I was nineteen.”
“Still happened.”
“I can go through all the times you fucked up.”
“You have done, several times to many people. Anyway, let’s have a look at this bathroom.” He turned around, heading back down the landing to the bathroom that I imagined had once been another bedroom.
I stood near the doorway, listening in as Taz went through the plan and what I’d ordered. Matty made a few suggestions that made it feel like I was in a home improvements programme and had an expert in the room.
The experts I’d spoken to this week about Lily and the fires hadn’t opened any avenues to leads. Doctor McKay had no certainty about Lily’s guilt; Ste hadn’t been able to connect the fire patterns; forensics hadn’t found anything that would give us a hint of which stone to unturn first.
I left Taz and Matty to pulling up floorboards and looking at piping, going downstairs to the kitchen to investigate what food had been sent over by a woman I didn’t know. A mother still making sure her son ate even though he was in his thirties.
My mother would leave her four year old daughter to make dinner for herself, and was eventually arrested when she broke into my school trying to abscond with me. Lily’s mother completely abandoned her when she was arrested and never once tried to get in touch with her.
But did I believe that?
Amanda had been a victim of emotional abuse from her husband, it seemed, possibly financial as well. Her sons were killed, her husband gone and the only family member left alive had been her daughter.
I unwrapped the food. It was packaged in ice cream tubs, labels on each, and wrapped in a couple of table cloths.
Two boxes contained pierogi; microwave for 4 minutes added to the label.
Another box had placki ziemniaczane written on it, along with more instructions.
Also included was a cake tin, inside which were three pieces of cheesecake. Taz would be lucky to see any of them.
For the rest of the evening I managed to keep work out of my head, knowing I needed to create space for maybe things to click tomorrow. Matty left, a plan for tomorrow that I half understood made.
Taz sat down at the table, the microwave singing white noise. “Welcome to traditional Polish food, Manchester style.”
“This was really nice of your mum.”
“She feels bad because I’m not staying there tonight.” He picked up one of the pierogi and dipped it in the sour cream that his mum had also sent. “And probably bad for you because I’m imposing.”
“You are massively helping me out. You helped with the pen drive too.” I chose a pierogi and copied him. “How did you get it?”
“I’m not telling you for lots of reasons. You know I shouldn’t have given it to you, but I also know you needed the file. It shouldn’t have been encrypted.”
I froze, staring at him. “You speak like a cop.”
“I’ve been living like a caveman for four years. That’s not cop-like.” He’d slipped up and he knew it.
“How long is it since you had short hair?” I switched the subject, having learned when not to push.
He pulled a thick curl straight. “Properly, since it was short? About three years. About the same since I was clean shaven.”
“I can’t imagine you with short hair. Do you look like your mother or your father?” Still digging, just in a different way.
“Both. They both have dark hair. My dad’s half Irish and half Argentinian, so we’re all a right mix up and a hundred percent Mancunian.”
“Although you look like a pirate.”
“I’m going to take that as a compliment.” He bit into another pierogi as the microwave pinged. “Did you eat one of the pieces of cheesecake?”
I tried to look innocent. “Absolutely not.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely.”
“Repeating yourself doesn’t mean it’s true.
Mama Taz texted me to say she’d sent three pieces and there are only two in there.
She’s already shouted at Matty and accused him, so come clean else your plumber might send the waste pipe into your bath.
” He went and got the second container from the microwave.
I eventually confessed, visiting the corner shop to get us both some beers, spending the rest of the evening talking about anything except how he’d gotten those files, and why.