Chapter 24
SCARLETT
‘I’m not really sure what the police can do. I think I may’ve made a bit of a fool of myself.’ I kneel on the red mat in Fi’s gym, iPad in hand, ready to log her reps. It’s Thursday morning, and I’m here to deliver her second session of the week.
‘What did they say?’ Fi puffs through a set of bicep curls.
‘The sergeant said he’d look into it. A couple of weeks, he reckons it’ll take, and he’ll be in touch.’ I sigh. ‘I could tell from his body language he was just trying to appease me.’
‘Why would he do that? Aren’t they trained to tell it how it is? That must encourage you that he’ll do something about it. Was it the same guy who dealt with you initially?’
‘Yes. Why?’
Fi gives me a coy smile. ‘Just asking.’
‘He said I had nothing concrete to go on. His boss would laugh him out of the office.’
‘I’m sure he’ll at least try.’ Fi drops the set of weights. They hit the floor with consecutive thuds. ‘Shoot. It’s too darn hot to be doing this. Why don’t we sit by the pool instead? Let’s go for a dip. You can borrow one of my daughter’s bikinis.’
It’s freezing in here. The air con’s first-class. ‘You’ve two more sets.’ This is why Fi pays me a hefty sum to train her. We both know she wouldn’t set foot in this room if she wasn’t forking out one hundred pounds an hour for me to make her. ‘Have a drink.’
She picks up her water bottle and takes a sip.
I pick the weights off the floor and place them on the bench. ‘He’s a keynote speaker at a conference this weekend, speaking about Business and Personal Development.’
‘Who, this Marcus?’
I nod. ‘From seeing him at that festival the other day, I bet he’s going to be in his element.’
‘And he’s the featured speaker!’ she says, one eyebrow arched. ‘Where?’
‘Edinburgh. I’m thinking of going. If Tim’s going to be ploughing through a load of red tape, then I’m going to have to.’
She gives me another sideways glance. ‘You sure that’s a good idea?’ She wipes her face with her gym towel.
‘What choice do I have?’
‘What do you hope to achieve? It’s a long way to go for a chat on a hunch you have. Why don’t you wait until he comes back and catch him at his office?’
‘Apparently, his wife is ill, and he doesn’t go into the office much now.’
‘How do you know that?’
I tell her about the café over the road from the office and the waitress, Immy, who used to work for A Meeting of Minds. ‘She got fired.’
‘Why?’
‘Apparently she got too close to him, and the wife wasn’t happy about it.
’ I take a deep breath. ‘I wish I’d spoken to her a little longer.
Found out more.’ I shrug. ‘I think I’ll go back and probe her some more when I get back from Edinburgh.
Thought I could make a weekend of it. The Fringe Festival is in full flow.
I could take in a few shows.’ I point to the dumbbells. ‘Come on, another set.’
She lets out a long groan. ‘Has anyone ever told you that you’re a bully?’
I laugh. ‘All the time.’
After the session finishes, I return to my car, when my phone rings. It’s Mum.
‘I wonder if you’d come home,’ she says through disguised tears. ‘Just to see us. I miss you.’
I hesitate. I’ve got stuff to do.
‘It’s OK if…’ She breaks off and sobs. ‘If you’re busy.’
‘I’ll come this evening.’
As soon as I get back to my flat, I open the windows and settle on the sofa with my laptop.
I find the event this weekend. My phone beeps.
A friend asks me to join a group for drinks in a local bar tomorrow.
Usually, I’m Miss Sociable, always out and about.
But the idea of forced conversation in a crowded bar feels overwhelming.
My friends have been supportive since Daisy’s death, and perhaps I should force myself to join them, but my heart’s not in it.
I check if I can get a ticket for the event, before googling flights to Edinburgh tomorrow, returning on Sunday.
I’m in luck. One ticket left on a late-afternoon flight tomorrow from Stansted, arriving at five.
It’s an expensive outbound flight, but a cheap, early evening return on Sunday makes up for it.
I enter my credit card details. My fingers shake.
A sudden shot of cool breeze enters the room, as if Daisy is urging me to confirm the purchase.
As the confirmation pings through, my phone rings. It’s George. ‘How did it go with DS Porter?’ he says after asking how I am. ‘Sorry I couldn’t make it.’ He was due to join me but cancelled last minute because of some nasty stomach bug.
‘What I kind of expected really.’ I update him on the conversation I had with DS Porter and the commitment the officer made to take a look into Justin Lakeland.
‘And you believe him. That he will investigate?’ George asks.
‘I do actually.’ After Fi asking the same question earlier, and now George, I feel more positive.
He tells me about the investigative work he’s been carrying out.
‘I’m building quite a little collection here.
But interestingly enough, I’m hitting lots of dead ends.
Either my probing skills are crap, or there’s a layer to Justin Lakeland that’s flying right under the radar. That alone rings alarm bells.’
‘George. You’re talking in riddles. A lot of words came out there, but you didn’t actually say very much.’
‘Precisely. As soon as I have something, I’ll send it through to DS Porter.’
I tell him about my plans for the weekend.
‘Are you sure that’s a good idea?’
‘I have to do something,’ I say. ‘Anyway, I think it’ll be good for me to take a break.’
‘Well, make sure you keep in touch.’
We end the call. At least I’ve got someone on my side.
I exhale a large breath. At my sister’s grave, I promised her. And I’m not going to break that.