Читать книгу The Bad Things: A gripping crime thriller full of twists and turns - Mary-Jane Riley - Страница 13

After that, it was all plain sailing. Alex got through to Jonathan Danby easily, and the conversation went exactly as she hoped. He had heard of her, had read a few of her articles and even enjoyed them, he said in that oleaginous manner she knew he would have. Loved the Saturday Magazine, he said. She crossed her fingers in the hope that he wasn’t great friends with Liz or something. She wanted the interview to be a fait accompli before anyone could say no. However, all Danby said was that he’d met the owner of the paper and the accompanying magazine at a couple of events. That was all right. Clive Lambert had little idea of who his staff were, never mind the freelancers. So when Alex broached the subject of Jackie Wood and an exclusive interview with her, she could hear Danby thinking in pounds and pence and not worrying about anything else.

‘It would be a fair depiction of Jackie and everything she’d been through?’ he asked. Alex heard the tippety-tap of his pen on his desk, or more likely on his blotter on what she imagined was his mahogany desk.

‘Yes,’ she said. It had to be fair otherwise it wouldn’t get published. It was just that she hoped to get so much more out of it.

‘I would need to be there.’

‘No, Mr Danby, I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that.’ Alex kept her voice even. ‘It needs to be just me, and preferably somewhere she feels comfortable and relaxed. I want her to open up.’

‘I see.’ She heard him breathing down the phone. ‘And what’s in it for my client?’

‘The magazine can pay its standard rate.’ She named the usual figure and crossed her fingers. It would be worth it to confront the woman who had brought such misery to their lives. ‘But that’s all. What she will get is publicity, which she would be able to use to her advantage.’

‘She is innocent you know. Of conspiracy to murder.’

‘As you say, Mr Danby.’

‘We’d want that underlined in the piece.’

Alex gripped the phone. ‘I can only work with what I get.’

‘It would be sympathetic to her?’

If she wasn’t careful she would break the damn phone. ‘It all depends how she comes over. Another reason for talking just to me with no one else around.’

‘Actually Ms Devlin, that’s a very good reason for me to be there. I wouldn’t want her to say something…inappropriate.’

Alex let the silence hang.

‘You realize the media are this close…’ She imagined him holding his forefinger and thumb apart so there was hardly any space between them ‘…to being gagged. And that includes you, Ms Devlin.’

‘I’m sure,’ she replied.

‘And the fact you’re Sasha Devlin’s sister?’

Damn. How long had he been waiting to say that? Foolish of her not to expect it.

‘Makes it all the more personal, Mr Danby. Obviously. There would be no deception involved. It’ll be written as a first-hand account of meeting the woman who had been accused of being involved in the murder of my niece and nephew. And acquitted, of course.’

‘Of course.’ A heavy sigh came across the line. ‘Leave it with me. I don’t think it’ll happen, though. She wants to keep a low profile. But I will be in contact with her and let you know, okay?’

‘That would be great, Mr Danby, I appreciate it.’

Alex gave him her number before finishing the call and turning her phone off again, sapped by the effort of remaining civil throughout the conversation, but also strangely exhilarated.

‘Hey you,’ Malone’s voice drifted up the stairs. ‘Am I going to see you at all?’

She put her computer to sleep and went down to the kitchen. ‘Sorry, I was just trying to fix up my next interviewee.’

Malone looked up from the paper he was reading. ‘Oh? Am I allowed to know who?’

She put her arms around him and her chin on his shoulder. ‘No.’

He turned and looked at her. ‘Any particular reason?’

‘Nope. Just the way I work.’

For some reason she wanted to keep it to herself. Was it because somewhere deep down she knew her motives for wanting to interview Jackie Wood were more than just to help Sasha? She wanted, she needed to see the woman up close and personal; to look in her eyes and see her guilt. Or perhaps, she reasoned, it was because the fewer people who knew, the less likely it was there would be a slip-up that would give away the woman’s whereabouts.

‘Look, I’ve made you a sandwich.’

He pushed a plate towards her and she realized she was hungry. In her efforts to get Sasha to eat she had neglected to eat anything herself. Cheese and pickle. Perfect.

The front door slammed. Gus was home. Alex looked at the clock – he was later than normal.

‘Hi darling,’ she called out, knowing she had to tell him that Jackie Wood was out of jail. Nothing. Just the sound of his size tens thudding up the stairs.

She looked at Malone. That was unusual. Gus normally came in and gave her at least a civilized grunt before disappearing into his lair.

‘I’d leave him be,’ said Malone. ‘He’s a teenager, probably wants a bit of privacy.’

She put down the sandwich. ‘Nonetheless, I’ve got to go and talk to him.’

She went upstairs and knocked on his door. No response. She knocked again, harder this time, in case he was plugged into his iPod.

‘Come in.’

Alex didn’t think she’d ever get used to her little boy’s gruff new voice.

As she went in, he minimized the web pages he’d been looking at and turned to her. She switched on the light. ‘Did you bring the letter home about paying for the skiing by instalments?’ she asked.

‘What’s that? A sweetener?’ His lip curled.

‘Gus?’

‘Why didn’t you tell me, Mum? About the woman? Jackie Wood.’

Alex suppressed a sigh as she went further into his room, stepped over the discarded books and DVDs that littered the floor, and sat down on the bed. She patted the cover. ‘Come here.’

Avoiding her eyes, Gus sat down next to her.

She put her arm around him, trying to ignore the tick tock of the clock on the wall and the shock of stale booze on his breath. He leaned into her. She could feel the bones of his shoulder, his arm. Had he always been this thin?

‘They said at school that she was out. Someone had seen it on their phone. They said her conviction had been overturned so that meant she hadn’t had anything to do with it and so probably the bloke – Martin Jessop – was innocent as well, and we were all shitty liars.’ His eyes glittered with unshed tears.

‘She is out, Gus, but her conviction was said to be unsafe.’

‘What does that mean?’ he muttered.

‘It means that they found some discrepancy in the evidence that was used to convict her of conspiracy—’

‘What evidence?’

‘Forensic evidence. Something to do with particles of dirt found at the scene and the particles found on her clothing in the flat hallway.’

Gus ran his fingers through his hair. ‘You mean—’

Alex winced. ‘Yes, sweetheart, where little Harry’s body was found. Gus,’ she knew she had to tread carefully, ‘have you been drinking?’

He wiped his sleeve over his face. ‘Bit.’

‘In the afternoon?’

‘Why, wouldn’t you mind if it was in the evening?’ he shot back.

She rolled her eyes, hoping to defuse the situation. ‘Don’t be smart with me. You know I would, that’s not the point.’

‘Look, I was stopped outside the school gates by some reporter scum who wanted to do an interview, take my picture and all that.’ He plucked at the sleeve of his jumper. ‘And I don’t want it, Mum. I don’t, like, want it to be anything to do with me. I was only a baby. I don’t even remember Harry and Millie.’ He sniffed. ‘But they kept asking and asking and saying we were liars, that you were a liar. And I wanted to get away.’

‘I’m sorry, love.’ She pulled him closer.

‘And then a couple of mates asked me if I wanted a drink.’

‘Mates?’ she asked, more sharply than she intended. Please don’t let him have fallen in with a bad crowd again.

‘Yes, mates.’ He glared at her. She decided to leave it, for now. ‘Anyway,’ he carried on, ‘I thought you’d be more concerned about the reporters than the half pint of lager I’d had.’

‘I am concerned about that,’ she said, trying to believe it really was just a half pint of lager. ‘They had no right to stop you and talk to you. What did you say?’

‘Nothing.’

‘How did they know you had anything to do with her?’

He shrugged. ‘Dunno. But there are a couple of them at the gate now.’

‘What?’ Alex jumped up and went over to the window. Sure enough, a man in a shiny grey suit and yellow tie and a woman in a black shaggy coat were standing just outside the gate under the streetlight and looking at her front door. Both of them on mobile phones and having animated conversations. She wondered which of them would be the first to come up with an offer. Vultures.

‘Bugger,’ she said, stepping back from the window before they saw her, heart thumping, ‘I thought they wouldn’t find us.’

‘Come on, Mum, you know you can find anyone these days through the internet.’

Irritation crawled up her spine. She knew that. She damn well knew that, so why hadn’t she given it a thought? ‘They’ll go away as soon as they realize we’re not giving them anything. Or until they get cold or tired or hungry, or all three.’ She half drew the curtain.

‘How’s Aunty Sasha?’

It was her turn to shrug. ‘You know, coping.’

‘Badly?’

She nodded. ‘Yes. I’ve just got to support her through this.’

‘We will, Mum. We will.’

Alex looked at her little boy. Taller than her with wisps of facial hair and that deep voice. ‘Thank you, sweetheart.’ She resisted the urge to lean over and kiss his cheek.

‘So are you going to do anything about her?’

‘Her?’

‘Jackie Wood?’

‘I—’ No. She wasn’t going to tell him. ‘Look, there’s nothing we can do. She’ll be whisked to some safe house somewhere until the furore’s died down and then she might change her identity and find somewhere new to live. The best thing we can do is to help Sasha through this.’

‘Mum?’

‘Yes?’

‘What can you remember about that day?’

Alex drew him back into her arms and hugged him close to her, resting her chin on the top of his head. ‘Oh, love, it’s difficult to describe.’

‘Try. Please.’

She closed her eyes. ‘I remember the police coming round, making lots of notes. Everyone going to look for them. Not finding them.’

‘They were taken from our garden, weren’t they?’

A spear of pain lanced Alex and the guilt threatened to overwhelm her. ‘Yes. Yes they were.’

She was responsible.