Chapter 25
Holly, Miranda and Zack followed Charles in finding their coats, but when I went to do the same, Holly stopped me. ‘That doctor told me to ensure you stay warm. You shouldn’t be going out in the cold.’
‘I feel fine. I want to help.’
‘I think you’ve done—’ She broke off.
‘What were going to say? That I’ve done enough?’
‘Patrick, please. I honestly think it’s better if you just stay here.’
She was angry with me for telling everyone what I’d overheard. Maybe she was justified – she had asked me not to and I’d done it anyway – but surely she could see that the truth was more important than anything?
Zack went out the front door after Charles, the two of them with their heads close together, no doubt talking about what had just gone down.
I could see them through the front window.
Charles looked pissed off. I guessed he was angry with Zack about letting Miranda take his laptop.
Charles gesticulated, and Zack nodded, seemingly contrite.
Holly went to the use the bathroom, leaving me with Miranda, who was putting her boots on. This was my chance to talk to her alone.
‘I did hear what Lewis said to you. I’m not lying and I wasn’t mistaken.’
She glared at me. ‘Let me give you a word of advice. If you want to be part of this family, you need to learn to keep your nose out and your mouth shut.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
She didn’t answer directly. ‘You know stuff now, like Lewis being fired, and this whole doppelg?nger thing. Maybe you’ll be lucky. Maybe you’ll be offered a pay-off like Morag. A nice fat monthly deposit in your bank account.’
‘Isn’t that for her housekeeping duties?’
She shook her head. ‘No wonder you couldn’t find that missing musician.’
She left the kitchen and went out to join her dad and Zack, leaving me wondering what on earth she’d been talking about.
Holly came in and saw my expression. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘It’s Miranda. She said something strange.’
‘What, was she slagging me off again?’
‘No. It was about Morag. She said she’s not really paid three grand a month for housekeeping duties.’
‘Did she?’ She looked through the window, to where the other three were huddled together by the cars. ‘Her and her big mouth.’
‘What is she paid it for?’
‘I don’t have time right now. They’re waiting for me.’
She turned to go, but I caught her arm.
‘Are we okay?’ I asked.
She sounded impatient. ‘Yes. We’re fine. I’ll talk to you later.’
I put on my Arnie voice and said, ‘You have to split.’
No reaction.
She moved towards the door, and I followed her.
‘Holly. Be careful.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Because we don’t know what happened at the caves. There might be someone else out there …’ I didn’t complete the sentence. ‘Just be vigilant, okay? And be careful on the roads, especially with this snow.’
‘Stop worrying.’
Through the front window I watched as Miranda and Holly got into the Land Rover, and Charles and Zack took the Jeep.
‘Happy fucking New Year,’ I said to Watson, who was lying on his bed.
He cocked his head then trotted over to me.
There was a packet of dog treats on the side of the counter, so I gave a few to him and set about clearing up the kitchen.
After that, I went upstairs and changed out of the clothes the doctor had lent me, changing into my own jeans and the sweater that Holly had bought me for Christmas.
Still needing to do something to distract myself, I went back into the living room and took Charles’s book off the shelf, but I couldn’t stomach reading it now, even if I’d been in a state to concentrate.
I wanted to go out, to join in the search for Jasmine, but I had no car – Holly had driven us home in the Land Rover and our rental was still at the caves – and it would take almost an hour, in freezing conditions, to walk to the village.
I slid The Dealmaker back on to the shelf, my thoughts returning to my documentary. For a fleeting moment, I found myself considering a different idea. A movie about the Grants and this app they had invented. Charles finding Jasmine and the impact on the family. Lewis’s death.
It was a terrible idea. I would have no impartiality and, worse, Holly and the rest of the Grants would never talk to me again.
I should stick with the mystery of what had happened to Samir – which led to me checking my emails and seeing that I’d had a reply from Emma Fox, the podcaster.
Hi Patrick. Was quite shocked to hear from you!
I saw The Disappearing Act and thought it was great!
Loved the open ending! Interesting that you’re looking into what happened to Samir.
I didn’t get very far at all so not sure how much help I’ll be, but give me a call and I’ll tell you what little I know. Best, Emma.
Her phone number was at the bottom of the email. The first thing she said when she picked up was, ‘Are you in Applecross?’
I explained that I was, without going into the whole story about Lewis and Jasmine or that I was dating the daughter of Charles Grant. I didn’t want to distract her.
I had already looked Emma up. I knew she was thirty-seven, originally from Streatham, and the winner of a British Podcast Award a couple of years ago, a Black woman victorious in a shortlist of white men, and I knew that her show specialized in seeking answers to mysteries and crimes the police had given up on.
She had been involved in tracking down a serial killer called Lucy Newton, almost getting herself killed in the process.
I knew that if Emma had looked into Samir’s death, she would have been thorough.
‘What did you manage to find out about Samir?’ I asked.
‘Not an enormous amount, to be honest. I spoke to his dad and a couple of his friends,’ Emma said. ‘The main thing that kept coming up was that he was a quiet kid. Studious. Well liked. You know, the kind of thing people always say, whether you’re a victim or you’ve just gone on a killing spree.’
‘He kept himself to himself,’ I said, quoting a thousand interviews with the neighbours and acquaintances of murderers.
‘Exactly. But I think Sammy, as his dad called him, really was a model student. He aced his GCSEs, revised really hard, and was doing his A-levels. But to his dad’s great disappointment he decided he didn’t want to go to uni and dropped out of school a few months before he was due to sit them.’
‘That’s interesting. Do you know why?’
‘He said he didn’t want to be saddled with loads of debt. I mean, I can’t blame him. But his dad, and the couple of schoolfriends I spoke to, they all said he was a “boffin”. Great at maths and science. All the STEM subjects.’
‘Did he have a job?’
‘Not according to his dad. He said Sammy would disappear all day and come home exhausted, refusing to talk about where he’d been or what he’d been doing. He had no money, though. Was always broke.’
‘Isn’t that typical of most teenagers?’
‘Hmm, maybe. One odd detail was that he had a gold signet ring that he always wore. It wasn’t on his body when he was found. There was speculation that he’d sold it.’
‘Or someone stole it from him?’
‘Exactly. They checked pawnshops and second-hand jewellers across the West Midlands and Scotland, but it never turned up.’
She went on. ‘I found out the police checked his “Find my iPhone” history in the weeks before his death and he was regularly going to the same place most days and spending hours there. When the police traced it, according to Samir’s parents, it wasn’t even a proper address.
It was a lock-up garage on the outskirts of Coventry.
It was empty, apparently. Nothing there but a load of old Coke cans and crisp packets.
They spoke to locals, to people who owned the other garages, and they said they thought the lock-up was being used by drug dealers. ’
That was disappointing. Teen mixed up with drugs. Hardly a great revelation for my film.
‘So yeah, that was the police’s main theory, not that Samir’s parents wanted to hear it. That he got involved with a gang. Drug dealers.’
‘But that doesn’t explain how he ended up in Applecross.’
‘Exactly.’
We both sighed at the same time, and Emma laughed.
‘There was one more thing,’ she said. ‘I didn’t visit Applecross, but I posted on a bunch of forums and Facebook groups, putting out an appeal for any information anyone might have.
Asked if anyone had any friends in Applecross.
I didn’t hear anything until about a month later, when I got a WhatsApp.
I tried to call the number it came from, but it’s one of those burner numbers you can create using an app.
It could just be a hoax. Someone messing around.
But I’ll take a screenshot and send it to you anyway. ’
‘Thank you.’
‘Good luck,’ she said. ‘I hope you get further than I did. I hate not knowing what happened to him.’
We wished each other a happy new year and hung up. A few seconds later a screenshot arrived of the WhatsApp messages she’d been talking about. Three short messages, received within moments of each other.
I saw Samir Anand.
There’s no point trying to get justice for him.
They’re going to get away with it, just like they get away with everything.
Was it real? If it was, it seemed it was probably referring to the drug gang.
Organized crime. But then a thought crept into my head.
Gangsters aren’t the only people good at evading the law.
People who have friends in high places – like chief constables and politicians – tend to get away with stuff, too.
I tried to dismiss it. Surely there wasn’t a connection between the Grants and this dead boy? It was far more likely to be drug dealers.
But even as I pushed the thought away, it still lingered. A question.
I was going crazy and I couldn’t stay stuck in the house a minute longer. I needed to get out. To help look for Jasmine.