35

‘Toss you for it?’ Stacey eyed the solitary brownie languishing on the plate.

Bev shook a preoccupied head. ‘It’s all yours.’ No way could she even force it down. Too busy digesting a belly full of food for thought. She watched Stacey wrap the cake in a couple of napkins, slip it in her bag.

‘You done here, Stace?’

‘Sure am.’

‘Fancy a wander?’

Five minutes later they were strolling down the pavement, dodging market traders who were dismantling stalls or flogging off last bits of produce cheap. Bev spotted a Del Boy lookalike offer an old dear a couple of knobbly parsnips, the kind that used to make it big on That’s Life back in the day. She’d watched the show as a kid, her mum and dad pretending they couldn’t see anything funny in root veg masquerading as willies.

Root, again. She must have it on the brain. Along with money, evil, all.

‘What do you make of Riley?’ Bev said slipping on her shades. ‘Think she’s pukka?’

‘I can’t see why she’d make it up. Got nowt to gain, has she?’

Not that Bev could work out. Kicking a manky apple into the gutter, she mused almost to herself, ‘I suppose the bigger question’s: who has?’ With the Cashes no longer around, who stood to benefit?

Bat-ears Stacey chipped in: ‘If you’re talking dosh, presumably the daughter. Only child and all that. I guess she’d inherit the lot. Usual state of affairs, isn’t it?’

Bev nodded. ‘Riley sure didn’t have a lot of time for Sally.’ Regarded her as selfish, good as accused her of lying over how close she was to her mum. Mind, they only had Sally’s word on that. Only had her say-so she’d been out the night Hilary died. Ditto the fact she actually lived under the same roof. The news certainly hadn’t reached Riley’s ears. ‘Her implication being that the girl’s a tad parsimonious with the verity.’

‘True, sarge, but you saw the state Sally was in.’ She swapped the bag into her other hand. ‘Christ, she was nearly as gutted as that bloke I told you about. The one you reckoned had necro whatsit.’

Bev played an imaginary violin.

‘You serious?’ Stacey cut her a glance. ‘You’re thinking it was an act?’

‘Who knows?’ Bev had been a detective long enough even to suspect her own granny of money-laundering for Columbian drug barons.

Stacey’s frown could’ve been drawn on by Disney. ‘But why? Surely you don’t suspect Sally of having a hand in her mum’s death?’

Bev shrugged.

‘Come on, sarge, Sally herself didn’t believe it was suicide. Why’d she raise doubts in our minds? She’d have been better off letting sleeping dogs lie.’

‘You’re probably right, mate.’ She shrugged. Shame Riley had gone all coy after shooting off her mouth. She’d a feeling the lawyer had a bunch more cards up her sleeve. Short of her laying them on the table, Bev saw only one way to find out if Sally Cash had anything to hide.

‘Fancy doing a bit of detective work, Stace?’

If she’d won a Euro rollover, she couldn’t have looked more chuffed.

Actually, scrub that. As Bev walked away after suggesting a few pointers, she remembered something and called back, ‘Hey Stace, Mac Tyler said to give you his regards.’

‘Right, ta, thanks.’ Her blush nearly matched the shade of her top.

Bev still had a smile on her face when she turned into Barlow Street. Mac had a gig on next weekend, didn’t he? She wondered if Stacey was big on stand-up. Might just message Cupid. Hi mate, I need a spare bow and arrow.