The Hyundai showroom was a bright glass box on an out-of-town business complex. Jayne parked in the customer car park and wandered over, her hands in her jacket pockets. If Sean Martin had a new car, he must have traded in the old one. She’d a vague idea of how to get the information she wanted, but she knew she’d be mainly making it up as she went along.
There were three men visible through the glass, all dressed the same: black trousers, white shirts and corporate ties, black fleeces keeping them warm whenever the large doors opened.
She knew she didn’t look like the normal kind of customer and wondered whether they’d just shoo her away, but as she went inside two of the men exchanged glances and did a quick rock-paper-scissor routine. The rock beat the scissors and walked over, a broad grin on his face.
‘Good morning,’ he said, clapping his hands in the cheery way of seasoned salesmen. ‘What are you looking for? New or used?’
She tilted her head and smiled, making him blush. ‘My daddy is getting sick of me driving that old tin box around,’ and she gestured towards her car. ‘He’s paying, so impress me.’
‘New it is, then.’ He grinned as he glanced over her shoulder to her car. ‘It looks like it’s been a loyal friend for a long time, but we all have to move on. What kind of car are you looking for?’
‘What would suit me?’
‘Sporty, most definitely.’
‘Sporty is small. I’m thinking of something a little bigger. Not a four-by-four, but similar.’
‘I’ve got just the car.’ He walked over to a large black car parked on the bright tiles in the middle of the showroom, Jayne following. It was the same as Sean Martin’s car, a hatchback, but bigger than the usual five-door. Jayne imagined it parked on the driveway of a modern estate, all red brick and shiny double glazing, rather than bouncing along a farm track. ‘These are very popular.’ He opened the door. ‘Get in, see how it fits.’
Jayne clambered in, the salesman leaning on the roof, looking in. His cologne was too strong.
‘What do you think?’
For a moment, Jayne got a snapshot of the lives other people led, where they could look for new cars and think about buying them and where life wasn’t a daily struggle to pay the bills.
‘I like it,’ she said, and ran her hands round the leather steering wheel, cool under her fingers.
‘If you like it, this could be yours. We can always find a way to make you afford it. Or rather, Daddy.’
‘Don’t you worry about Daddy. And I know someone who’s got one. He’s just bought it, and says he likes it. That’s why I came, but I didn’t know the model name, just how it looked. It’s so different from what he had before.’
‘These are big sellers.’
‘Sean Martin, he’s the guy. You might have sold it to him?’
The salesman frowned. ‘The one who went to prison for killing his stepdaughter?’
‘That’s him, although he didn’t do it. We all know that now. I wouldn’t be friends with him if he had.’
‘I didn’t sell him the car. It was my boss, I think.’
‘He thought the same as me, though, that what he said he liked about it was the contrast with his old car. I just can’t remember what he had before. Weird that, how you forget something you’ve seen so many times.’
The salesman stepped back. ‘What’s going on?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Sean Martin went through the manager because he wanted privacy, because of his public profile. Me, I don’t care about stuff like that – he’s buying a car, that’s all – but it was a big deal to him and the customer is always right. Now you turn up, and within a couple of minutes you’re trying to find out what car he used to drive, when you’d know that if you were his friend, because you’d just ask him.’
Jayne sighed. ‘Okay, I’m not buying a car, but this is the chance for you to help out your manager. I’m a private investigator and I’m working on a murder case.’ She dug out a business card from her jacket and handed it over.
He glanced at it before making as if to put it in his shirt pocket. ‘No, you don’t,’ she said, and snatched it back from him. ‘I don’t make enough money to give those away. The car he was driving earlier this year might be crucial. I need the make, model and colour, that’s all, and you either tell me or I get a witness summons to make your manager turn up at court and hand over the information. He can do it from the witness box and lose a whole day when he could be selling cars, or you could get it now and I’ll be gone.’
He looked around the showroom, his arm still on the roof. ‘Wait here.’
The salesman walked over to an office visible through a window. Jayne stepped out of the car as a door opened and an older man, sandy-haired and with his stomach hanging over his belt, a keychain dangling from it, headed towards her. When he got close, he said, ‘Tell me again what you want.’ He planted his feet apart and folded his arms, pushing his stomach out even more.
‘I’m guessing you know, if you’re adopting that tone. What car did Sean Martin trade in for his brand-new Hyundai?’
‘We don’t give out customer information to someone who just wanders in like you did, waving around a reusable business card.’
‘You’re wasting your own time, because the court will make you hand it over. As I’m going to get it anyway, you might as well tell me.’
The manager pursed his lips. ‘If you could get it through official means, you’d have written to us or sorted out the court summons already. Instead, you come here, all tits and teeth, trying to flirt your way to it. You’ll have to do better than that. Now leave.’
‘And that’s your last word?’
He pointed towards her car. ‘Go.’
She shrugged and said, ‘Fine,’ and turned to go. She tried to look nonchalant as she made her way back across the car park, but she was angry. It hadn’t gone as she’d hoped and all she’d done was to make her intentions obvious.
As she got back into her car, she saw that all the salesmen were standing by the windows in the same pose, feet apart, arms folded, glaring at her. Her phone buzzed.
She pulled her phone from her pocket. A message from Dan.
The message was simple.
She started her engine. Her plans for the day had just changed. She smiled. She was starting to feel alive again.
Trudy Martin was in her garden when the phone rang.
The morning had been quiet. The first good spring burst of grass had arrived, so she’d mowed the lawn and was tending to the flowerbeds. The cherry tree was starting to show its pink blossoms, just a few weeks until when they’d be scattered all over the garden by one of the cruel breezes that drove across the hillside.
Sean wasn’t answering it, so she put down her small garden fork and went inside, taking off her gardening gloves as she walked towards the phone.
It was the showroom that had sold Sean his new car.
She put her hand over the mouthpiece and shouted, ‘Sean?’
‘Yeah?’
‘The phone.’
There was a short delay and then there was the steady clump of his footsteps as he came down the stairs.
‘Who is it?’
‘The car showroom.’
She passed him the phone and went to go back outside, picking up her gardening gloves.
He held up his hand, making her stop.
She put her gloves back down and waited.
He thanked whoever had called and put the phone down. He took a deep breath.
‘What is it?’
‘Someone’s been asking about me, wanted to know what car I was driving before I bought the new one.’
‘Who?’
‘A young woman. Jayne Brett was her name. One of the salesmen remembered it from her card.’
‘Why did she want to know what car you’d been driving?’
‘It’s to do with a court case this week. A murder case.’
‘What did the showroom say?’
‘They told her to go away.’
She put her gloves on and went back outside, sliding the door closed and letting the hush of the outdoors take over. The tranquillity was gone. She stabbed the ground with the fork, leaning down to yank out the weeds, her jaw set.
The door opened behind her, followed by the soft clumps on the lawn as Sean made his way over. She didn’t look round.
‘It’ll be okay,’ he said.
‘How do you know? Dan Grant was here yesterday, and this woman today asking about you. Why? And what was all that bullshit from Dan about Pat Molloy?’
‘The man at the showroom said that he could be summoned by the court to say what car I was driving before my new one.’
Trudy stabbed her fork into the ground. ‘Why, though? I don’t get it. Is there something you’re not telling me?’
‘You trust me, don’t you?’ He was behind her, and there was a tremble of anger in his voice.
‘Of course I do. I just worry about you. About us. The rumours never stop. We’ll never get away from this.’
He took her hand. ‘No one will split us up again, I promise.’
‘How can you be so sure?’
He stepped closer. ‘Because I won’t let them.’
He went back into the house as she dug at the soil again. Eventually, she threw her gloves and fork down and followed Sean into the house, although she didn’t speak to him. Instead, she headed for a shower, to wash away the garden grime.
Once inside the bathroom, she closed her eyes and put her head back against the door. She wanted it all to end, but still people kept on digging. Why can’t they leave him alone? The court cleared him. That should be enough.
Don’t make him angry. Don’t let them get too close. She swallowed back tears as she thought of his anger. She couldn’t stand that.