Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
I’d intended to spend at least an hour finding out about our friendly fire investigator, but after showering and washing my hair, admiring the plaster that was adorning the walls of my hall, stairs and landing as well as the amount of dust, I couldn’t keep my eyes open.
I fell asleep on the sofa, under blankets that Taz had last used, and slept better than I usually did in my own bed.
For once I didn’t dream, or at least I didn’t remember them. Sleep was peaceful; the awakening less so.
I’d put my phone on charge next to me, my alarm set for five-thirty, enough time to get a run in before work. I hadn’t been to the boxing gym for over a week and my muscles were starting to feel sloppy and loose; I wanted to train but was scared of the fallout.
It would have to wait until this case was over.
I woke with a feeling of trepidation, like something was hiding behind a door waiting to jump out at me, and that was exactly what happened.
Somehow, probably because Jenna knew how to adult better than I did, milk was being delivered to my door along with bread and yoghurts. Today was one of the delivery days, which meant I could at least eat cereal or toast.
I didn’t just find milk waiting for me. There was a car on the drive, black, with tinted windows. I didn’t recognise it, but I did recognise the man who got out of the driver’s seat.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I was wearing Christmas pyjamas from four years ago, and I was pretty sure my hair was stuck up in more directions than a porcupine’s spines.
“You look cute.”
I was feeling poisonous. “It’s not even half five. Why are you stalking me?”
Taz had the courtesy to look a little deflated. “I escaped my mother’s before she woke up and figured you’d be going for a run. I didn’t want to just let myself in.”
I looked over at the car. “Where’s that from?”
“I’m returning it later. Long story; won’t bore you.” He was already wearing running gear. “Can I get a coffee?”
I opened the door wider and scowled at him. He grabbed the milk and the bread off the step, which watered down my scowl.
“Where were you?”
“Did you miss me?”
I looked away, focusing on stropping down the hallway to the kitchen. “My house did.”
“I’ll take that as a yes. What’s happened with the case?” He went straight to the coffee machine. I sat down at the table and stretched my legs out onto the opposite chair. I had no issue being waited on in my own house.
“It’s getting weirder.”
“Tell me how.” The machine started to grind. Taz found a milk jug, added milk and warmed it in the microwave. We were being posh today.
“How much do you remember?”
“More than you told me.”
I was suddenly awake. “What?”
“I know Lily’s still missing. I know Andrew Smith’s death is being treated as murder. I know there are concerns about how he got the kernmantle rope and who he might work for.” He put a mug of coffee in front of me. “I know I can’t take you seriously when you look like that.”
“Why are you here?”
“To escape my mother and three of my nieces. One of the cousins is getting married at the weekend and the house is now full of make-up, dresses and heels that should be reclassified as weapons.” He looked utterly fed up.
“Stilettoes?”
“They’re spread down the hallway, and I’ve nearly broken my neck on them twice.” The coffee machine started again.
“Poor baby.” I nursed my mug. “You can trip over bags of plaster instead.”
“They’re less easy to miss.” He finished making his coffee and sat down opposite me, moving my feet off the chair. “Something’s bothering you.”
“There’s a fire investigative technician called Ste Taylor, who has a very similar name to Stefan Taylor, Andrew Smith’s son.
” I’d fallen asleep with fleeting thoughts about Ste, the edges of a jigsaw clicking together, the picture still blurry.
“He’d have access to the rope, and he knows plenty about fires. He said he’s just moved to Manchester.”
“Do you want me to have a look for you?”
“I don’t want you to get into trouble, but basically yes. Can your hacking skills do that?”
He snorted a laugh. “They can.”
“Where have you been the last couple of days?”
“Induction for the new job.”
“What new job?” My words were batted back by the coffee mug.
“Nice try. I’ll have a look for you later.”
“I could be putting two and two together and making three cabbages.”
“Why cabbages?”
“Why not?”
He shook his head, hair still half-wild. “You could’ve picked a different veg.”
“I could’ve picked a different job,” I grumbled, not in a good mood at all this morning, despite the decent night’s sleep. “The sofa’s comfier than my bed.”
“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t tried your bed.”
I swallowed my coffee the wrong way and started to choke.
“Why don’t you buy a new one and put that in one of the many spare bedrooms,” he continued. “Or just move your sofa up there.”
“Both options require my executive to function. It’s got low battery so I’m reserving its usage for work.” I tried to smooth down my hair. “I’m worried about what’s happened to Lily.”
“Like what?”
“Worst-case scenario; she’s dead. Second worst-case scenario; she’s responsible.” I finished my coffee and got up to get a yoghurt from the fridge. “Want one?”
“No, thanks. How do you think she’s connected to Stefan Taylor? Now, I mean.” He stretched back against the chair, all long limbs and hard muscle, not that I was noticing. Just observing.
“Did she stay in Manchester so he could find her? Did she and Stefan set the fire at Roselea together, the fire that killed everyone in her family bar her mother? No one’s convinced that she set the fire, but no one’s convinced she didn’t.
I think there was more than her involved, and Andrew Smith used The Holding’s money to protect him.
” For the first time since the case had begun, I was almost convinced.
“And you think Ste Taylor could be your man?”
“Maybe. He’s odd. Always cheery - ”
“Some people can be cheery, I mean, I know that’s a foreign idea to you - ”
“Hilarious. No, it isn’t a genuine cheeriness.” I remembered his expression changing yesterday evening. “He’s playing a part.” I put the spoon I’d used for the yoghurt in the sink. “I’m going to get ready to go for a run.”
“I’ll join you.”
We took a local route, along a few roads, Didsbury slowly waking up, and then towards Fog Lane park, starting off at a decent pace with neither of us talking.
Taz matched me even when I started to speed up, keen to make my muscles work and for a good couple of kilometres we were too quick for conversation.
My legs started to feel stronger, my lungs kicking up their levels of efficiency and for a few minutes I forgot all about Lily and Amanda and Andrew Smith and Stefan, and just about the next few metres, picking out an end point and kicking into a sprint.
Taz was fit and strong, but he wasn’t built for speed, and I could hear him struggling as he tried to keep up.
My strides flew longer as I reached the café, a duck shifting out of my way, irritated.
I started to slow, reaching a bench, putting my hands on the arm rest and leaning down, realising how hard I’d just pushed.
Taz was a couple of seconds behind, sitting down next to the bench and staring at me as he caught his breath.
“I didn’t think you could go so fast.”
I sat down on the bench. “I wasn’t sure I could.”
We both sat there, slightly winded, listening to the noise from the ducks and the sound of the wind in the trees. “I need to find Lily.”
“You need to find out more about her and Stefan Taylor.” He picked himself up off the ground. “I’ll have a look this morning and let you know what I find.”
“Thank you.” I got up off the bench. “Are you back at your mother’s tonight?”
He shook his head as we started to walk away. “No space, so I’m moving into one of my brother’s rentals that’s just come free. I should be exchanging on a house in a couple of weeks.”
“You’re buying in Manchester?” We started to run again, slow, steady steps. Nothing more than an easy conversational pace. Recovery.
“Finally. It’ll be the first time I’ve lived in Manchester for ten years.” A group of runners ran past us in the opposite direction. Social running was never something I’d been into, other than parkrun, and even then, I didn’t need to speak to anyone.
“Where have you been living?”
“All over. Wherever work took me.” He was exceptional at not giving anything away.
“So why back to Manchester now?”
“Because I’ve chosen work to take me back here. I’m thirty-five. It’s time to put down a root or two. And it’s my favourite place to be.” Our feet hit the path in tandem, the light growing brighter as the sun kicked it up a notch.
“So given the choice between Manchester and the Maldives, you’d pick Manchester?”
“For a long-term stay. If we’re talking two weeks involving beach towels and snorkels, then I’d opt for anywhere other than the Rochdale Canal.”
I laughed, amused by the idea. “Where was your last holiday?”
“Costa Rica. Yours?”
“Anglesey. I went back to see my foster parents.”
“What about away away. Somewhere you needed to fly to.”
I didn’t say anything.
“Mia, where did you last go abroad?”
“I haven’t. I haven’t been abroad.” I didn’t make eye contact.
“How come?”
“We lived on Anglesey. We kind of didn’t need to. We had beaches and rock pools and barbecues, and we were pretty much allowed to run wild. We sometimes spent a week in Ireland or went up to Scotland, but we just didn’t go abroad, and I haven’t done as an adult.” It was kind of embarrassing to say.
“Where would you like to go?” He sidestepped my embarrassment.
“I don’t know. I’m not very good at sitting still so I don’t think a beach holiday would work.”
“Not white sandy beaches, clear seas, snorkelling and diving? That doesn’t tempt you?” He’d slowed the pace even further.
“Are you asking me to go to the Maldives with you?” I had no idea if we were flirting right now.