Chapter 69
SCARLETT
I walk into the bar, where Tim is waiting on a stool, drinking a bottle of Bud. It’s bright and airy, a West Hampstead watering hole where I meet friends now and again. He smiles when he sees me. ‘What can I get you to drink?’
‘Anything but lemonade,’ I say with a smile. I point at his bottle. ‘I’ll join you.’
He laughs and turns to the bartender. ‘Two of these, please.’
The bar is quiet for five o’clock on a Saturday afternoon, but that’s OK with me. I’m not into crowds at the moment. ‘Fancy going outside?’ he asks.
‘Why not.’
We stroll through the bar to the pavement tables out the front and find a spot among the array of potted plants. ‘So how’re you holding up?’ he asks, settling into the padded seat.
‘Keeping busy. Back at work.’ I raise my bottle to his. ‘Cheers.’ I take a swig of beer.
‘So soon. I thought you’d have taken more time off.’
‘It’s been three weeks.’
‘That’s nothing after what you’ve been through.’
‘I risk losing clients if I leave it any longer.’ I take a sip of beer. ‘I saw George last night.’
‘How’s he doing?’ he asks.
‘Fine. He’s preparing to go back to uni.’
‘You have a lot to thank him for,’ he says. ‘One tenacious young man.’
A breeze brushes my arm. A slight hint of summer fading into autumn. It’s a relief after the intense weather we’ve had. ‘What’s happened to Hattie?’
‘Connor arranged for her to go into a home.’
‘You know, at one point I thought she was involved in it all.’
‘We’ve spoken to her at lengths. With her state of mind, we would’ve picked it up if that were the case.’
‘And Blue. What about Blue?’
He smiles. ‘My colleague has fostered him.’
‘DC Wiggins?’
He nods. ‘She reckons it’s only temporary, but I reckon she’ll end up keeping him. She loves animals, that one.’
‘So, what’s the latest?’ I ask.
‘There was me thinking this was a social drink,’ he jests.
I assure him it is a social drink, but curiosity gets the better of me. ‘Did you get into Justin’s computer?’
He nods. ‘You weren’t far off the mark. He was a psychopath, as we know, obsessed with so-called social experiments on young, vulnerable and homeless women. He used his company – A Meeting of Minds – to lure his victims.’
‘To what end?’
‘For control and manipulation, the beginning of his cult. A Meeting of Minds was a cover-up for that. Anyway, all the data is under review. He had a hold over his wife because she killed a woman when she was seventeen, which she confessed to him while under hypnosis with him. It’s all on video.
A team are still going through it all. There are hours of footage.
Even when he was interrogating his victims.’ He pauses.
‘Scarlett, I’m trusting you not to repeat any of this. It’ll all come out at the right time.’
‘Homeless, I guess. He targeted the homeless expecting no one to miss them.’
‘That’s right. Sadly, we haven’t managed to identify three of the victims yet. And there might be more.’
‘Part of me wishes he’d lived to stand trial. The other part is glad he suffered.’
‘I do have some positive news.’
‘Do share.’ I sip my beer.
‘We located Phoebe’s mother.’
My shoulders relax slightly. ‘And?’
‘Phoebe ran away from home when she was fifteen. Her mother had been looking for her all that time.’
‘How sad.’ I pause to digest this news. Another devastated mother. ‘At least there’s closure for her. So Connor definitely wasn’t aware of what was going on at home?’
Tim shakes his head. ‘You know I can’t give you the details, but he has been interviewed extensively, and has been fully cooperative all the way. There’s nothing to suggest he knew what his parents were up to.’
‘I find that hard to believe,’ I say.
‘He was at boarding school all his life, Scarlett, and then went to uni. He wasn’t there much. We have nothing on him. Honestly, he’s been interviewed several times.’
I shrug. ‘I’m not arguing. Just my gut feeling.’
‘Indeed. Did you speak to the counsellor I suggested?’
I laugh. ‘I’ve had enough of counsellors for now, thank you. I’m good. I’ve booked a triathlon for the new year. A pool swim, no open water. I’m keeping away from lakes for the time being.’
He looks at me knowingly. We both manage a laugh.
‘That’s all the therapy I need,’ I say.
‘Good on you. Want another drink?’ he asks.
I stand. ‘It’s my turn.’
I go to the bar and order two bottles of beer. When I return, Tim is scrolling through his phone. ‘Don’t suppose you like going to the theatre, do you?’
‘I love the theatre.’ I hand him another bottle of beer and clink my bottle against it.
‘Comedy?’
‘Even better.’
‘I’ve got two tickets to go and see Showstopper!’ he says. ‘Want to come?’
‘I’ve heard of that. It’s an improvised musical, isn’t it?’
‘That’s right. It’ll be a laugh.’
I raise my bottle and clink it against his. ‘Maybe.’
‘No ties, of course. Just a bit of fun.’
It’s been a while since I laughed properly. ‘Sure. Why not.’