Trudy was outside Pat Molloy’s office, pacing, trying to work out what to say. Her reflection in the window didn’t reveal her anger. She looked the same as ever. Dark hair, her eyes softened by round glasses, a scarf around her neck. Inside, however, she was furious at the sudden flurry of interest in Sean. Her fortunes were too wrapped up in his, and if there was trouble coming her way, she wanted to know what it was.
As she walked in, the crisp spring air was replaced by smothering warmth, spewed out by the central heating. The receptionist looked up and gave her a quick appraisal in the process.
‘Is Pat Molloy in? I’m Trudy Martin, Sean Martin’s wife.’
The receptionist looked surprised. ‘Yes, of course. Please wait there,’ she said, and made a quick call to Pat as Trudy looked out of the window, not sitting down.
‘How is Sean?’ When Trudy turned back to her, she said, ‘I’m Margaret. I was here during Sean’s trial, and I remember the party when they released him, but I don’t think we met then.’
‘Sean is fine, thank you. I came along afterwards really. We knew each other years ago, and when I contacted him to congratulate him, well, things rekindled.’
Before Margaret could reply, a door burst open and Pat Molloy was standing there. ‘My dear Trudy. I’ve heard all about you.’ The bounce in his voice didn’t match the grey in his skin and the bones in his shoulders, visible through his shirt. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘I need to ask you some questions. It won’t take a minute. It’s to do with Sean.’
‘Of course, come through.’
Trudy followed him through a room used for interviewing clients and into a grotty office behind, the Venetian blinds pulled down and a desk piled high with files. Her nose twitched from the dust. As Pat opened the blinds, it swirled in the light.
She took off her scarf and coat, her blouse unbuttoned far enough to keep Pat interested. Sean had told her before that he had a reputation for being a flirt.
‘Take a seat,’ he said, and moved some legal textbooks from a chair. ‘I don’t normally see clients in here but, well, you’re different.’
‘I’m not a client, for a start.’
‘Well, yes, absolutely, and I hope it stays that way.’ His weak smile was broken by a cough.
‘You don’t look well, Mr Molloy.’
‘Just getting old. But you didn’t come here to ask about my health.’
‘No, that’s true. It’s about Mr Grant. He’s your employee, right, not a partner?’
‘Dan? He’s been with me since he started. He’s a good man. He helped with Sean’s case.’ He steepled his fingers under his nose and his gaze grew sharper. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘He came to see Sean yesterday, and today an investigator has been asking questions about Sean. Jayne Brett? Does she work for you?’
Pat waved his hand. ‘Oh, I might be his boss, but I leave it to Dan who he uses for investigations. I trust him.’
‘But you can see how it would bother me, right?’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Dan was at our house yesterday, and this morning Jayne Brett went to the showroom where Sean bought his car, asking questions about it. I don’t understand why she’d do that, but she said the questions are connected to a murder case. Is it Sean’s case? Why is she interested in Sean’s case?’
Pat’s eyes narrowed. ‘Dan has a murder case starting this week. It might be connected with that. Someone called Peter Box.’
Trudy blinked and sat back. ‘But I don’t understand why. Peter Box has no connection with me, or Sean.’ She tilted her head. ‘Has Peter Box said his case is connected to Sean?’
‘Why would he?’
‘I don’t know, but Dan and this Jayne are digging around Sean, and I want to know why.’
Pat leaned forward, hands gripping the arms on his chair. His eyes grew hard and he spoke in a tone that belied his frail appearance. ‘Dan is a damn good lawyer and whatever he does, it’s because it’s the right thing to do. I wish I could say the same about my career, but I can live with my mistakes. Can Sean?’
‘I don’t understand what you mean?’
‘Ask him.’
‘I don’t need to ask him. Sean was cleared.’
‘Because of an expert I found.’
‘And he’s done so much good since then. You helped to make his life matter. There’ll be talk of honours soon; especially now he’s got his book out. He’s campaigned, helped people escape injustice.’
‘So have I, all of my career, but I can’t think of many people who I thought were completely innocent.’
Trudy pursed her lips. ‘What are you trying to say?’
Pat coughed, his hand going to his mouth, his cheeks turning red once more. ‘Just ask him.’
Trudy stood up and grabbed her coat and scarf.
‘You be careful what you do, Mr Molloy,’ she said, her cheeks flushed with anger. ‘Sean is innocent.’
‘What could I possibly do? Reveal his secrets?’
‘I thought a client’s secrets died with you.’
‘They do, but then again, they can’t touch me when I’m gone.’
Trudy slammed the door behind her.
She didn’t speak to Margaret on the way out. She marched out on to the street, her jaw clenched, tears in her eyes, but they were tears of rage, not distress.
As the cold air hit her, she stopped. She closed her eyes and tried to regain her poise. Anger was destructive, she knew that. She had to stay calm and work out what to do.
As she opened her eyes, she looked back towards the office. Pat Molloy was watching her.