Sarah pulled the car into the gravel driveway that curved around the front door to Carl Coleman’s expansive home, and parked next to a shiny Tesla.
A lot of lights on, almost as if he was expecting visitors.
And maybe he is, she thought.
She had suggested that Jack go to the front door, while she found the back entrance.
The Coleman home … very likely to be open.
In which case — a quick and simple break-in to get to Coleman’s office.
“You know,” Jack said, “I’m beginning to think you enjoy break-ins!”
Sarah grinned and, with a plan in place, they got out of the car together.
Then, as Jack walked up the broad yellow steps to the front door, Sarah slipped away into the shadows.
Company calling.
Expected? Unexpected?
They would both soon find out.
*
Carl Coleman opened the door, a sturdy etched-crystal glass in one hand, ice cubes rattling, but otherwise overflowing with an amber liquid.
A man who wanted the stiffest of drinks, Jack thought.
“What? Ah, Jack. What a surprise. Why, er—”
Jack nodded. “Carl, I assumed you heard …”
“Heard? Heard?”
“The ‘Save Our Hall’ headquarters? Firebombed. I just came from there.”
Carl’s hand was still locked on the doorframe.
“God, really? That’s terrible.”
But the door hadn’t opened any wider.
“Wondering if I might have a quick word? Something has come up.”
Jack saw in Coleman’s eyes that hint of, well, fear. A trap slowly being sprung on someone who wasn’t expecting it.
“Think I could come in?” Jack nudged.
“Yes, of course, old boy,” said Coleman, finally releasing the arm that barred the way.
The door to his near-mansion opened, and Jack followed the man with his sturdy drink.
Cubes rattling like inappropriate chimes.
*
Sarah crept round to the back door, aware that Coleman might not be alone in the house. Early evening — perhaps Natalie was here somewhere?
She peered in through French windows into a massive kitchen, the room brightly lit. She waited for a second, watching and listening. No sign of anyone — the kitchen deserted.
She knew she didn’t have much time. She was going to have to risk it.
Now … if only these doors are open.
She gave the handle a twist. Waited. The slightest of clicks … as it opened.
*
Coleman stood in the centre of his expansive sitting room, all leather sofas and glass coffee tables, shaking his head.
“Not sure why you want to speak to me, old chap, has to be—”
“Carl, this firebombing. You have an idea who might have done such a thing? All those young people inside. Could have been bad.”
Coleman took a quick gulp of his drink. Jack also noticed … no niceties on display here, no casual offer to pour Jack a glass.
The councillor too absorbed in this visit in the night, and what it might mean.
He shook his head.
“Well,” Jack said, “Sarah and me … We think we know.”
Wide-eyed, Coleman looked at Jack. Hanging on every word.
*
Now — door closed behind her, breathing as controlled as she could get it — Sarah took a look around the enormous kitchen, with its black granite island big enough to play table tennis on. The stainless-steel appliances glittered in the ultra–bright lights embedded in the ceiling.
Ahead, she guessed — from the sound of voices — a hallway led to the sitting room where Jack had to be confronting Coleman. To the right, another open door to what must be one of the many other reception rooms in this giant house.
But that’s not what she needed to find.
No. Back here, overlooking the garden somewhere, away from the kitchen and sitting room, away from the bedrooms upstairs … was where an office should be.
She turned from the kitchen, and walked to the left, parallel with the back of the house, down another hallway … to where another room lay ahead. A soft yellow glow emanating from it.
Please, she thought, let that be the office.
Carl’s — not Natalie’s.
When she reached the entryway and peered in, she saw bookshelves, a massive dark wooden desk, leather desk chair. A vintage lamp on the desk — not so bright that it would make seeing the computer screen difficult.
Next to the keyboard, a wet ring on the glass-covered desktop.
Where Coleman must have — only moments ago — rested his drink as he looked at his computer.
The computer still on, just sleeping. The last screen he looked at probably there.
And if not, well, if there were any firewalls, she was sure she could crack them.
She sat down in the man’s leather chair.
Tapped a key and the screen lit up.
*
“You see, Carl. We had a little chat with Syms.”
Coleman stood over by the fireplace, flanked by two white marble gryphons Jack imagined might spring to life and protect their owner.
Jack expected Coleman to say something, maybe once again label Syms a bastard for all the trouble he brought to the village.
But nothing.
“And Syms, well, we kinda knew. Turns out a lot of people did.” Jack waited. Another deep slug of whisky by Coleman. “A lot of people.” Coleman didn’t even bother asking the question … knew about what? “About Syms — and your wife. Carrying on. Pretty much in plain sight.” Jack took a step closer to Coleman. “Guess you knew about that, hmm Carl? Your wife cheating on you?”
And that finally cracked it.
Coleman took a step towards Jack, the cornered man stepping up.
*
Sarah started navigating the digital folders and files.
Getting in had not been hard at all. But now to find something, anything, that would back up what Syms had suggested.
But then there was the factor of time.
How long could she do this before Coleman realised Jack was just playing for time?
*
“Now listen to me, Brennan. Of course I knew about the two of them. Not the first time my wife has done that, and damn well probably won’t be the last. But if you think … if the two of you think I would hurt anyone because of any of that? Ha! You’re …” he took time with the next word, sounding confident he had won whatever this argument was about “delusional.”
Which is when Jack — hoping that Sarah would come in very soon, with exactly what they needed — said “Oh, that’s not what we think at all. And that’s not what Syms told us either.”
The man’s eyes widened. This was unexpected.
“See, he said you have leveraged everything you have into making sure that the new Village Hall project happens. Without it, you’ll be wiped out.”
Jack looked around the great room, the type of place most people would only see in movies.
All in danger.
“And how …” The man rocked. “How the hell would Syms know that?”
Jack played his last card, hoping that Sarah had by now found what they needed.
“Because, turns out — as I guess you know — your wife, besides sleeping with the man, told Syms all about it.”
A finer whisky glass would have been crushed in Coleman’s angry tightening grip.
“He didn’t have enough to blackmail you. Yet. But Carl — we both know the way Syms operates. He digs dirt. Digs deep. You knew what would happen if you didn’t deal with him — and fast. And I guess, you did what any man might do in such circumstances … when absolutely everything is on the line.”
“Bullshit. You have nothing. Just Syms’s lies.”
“You threatened him — and his ‘pretty assistants’, didn’t you? Those words, they struck me at the time — but I didn’t know why. Thing is — I can hear your voice saying them. Then you decided, mere words … not enough, hmm? So tonight. The firebomb. Your secret safe. Maybe the vote to develop the Village Hall, safe.”
“You have nothing. No proof, nothing at—”
Which is when — at last, and not a moment too soon — Sarah walked into the room.
“’Fraid,” she said slowly, “we do. Right now.”
“What? Bloody hell, where did you come from? Look, I have rights and—”
Sarah carried on, “And I just sent all the relevant files, transactions from your computer — to mine. Shows how you were financially — and secretly — tied to the hotel project. And no one knew — not even Ross Leisure.”
Jack saw Coleman frown, then glance to the living room window — to his Tesla parked outside.
The Tesla, with the shotgun in the trunk, thought Jack, stepping across to block the way if Coleman tried to run for it.
“Don’t even think it, Carl,” he said. “You’re in plenty trouble as it is.”
Jack — as he spoke — had pulled out his phone. “Right, Alan. We’re at Coleman’s now. Think you can? Good. See you in a minute.”
Carl Coleman — now exposed, the truth out, and the police on their way — had the shocked face of a man who had taken a big gamble, and just learned he had lost it all.