“When I got home, last night, I found a knife buried in my kitchen table.”
Dad’s mouth dropped open, like the aforementioned blade had stabbed him in the belly.
“I’d left the bathroom window open. I know it was stupid,” I said, before he could remind me of the many times he’d impressed on me the importance of home security.
“Was anything stolen?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Have you fallen out with anyone?”
“Nothing that would warrant someone behaving in such a despicable way. Dad, don’t you see, this is a clear threat?”
“I’m not denying it, Molly.” He ran a hand under his jaw. “I’m trying to figure out why.”
“Isn’t it obvious? Someone doesn’t want me looking into Scarlet’s death.”
A nerve near Dad’s left eye pulsed. I knew that look. His expression was not dissimilar to Heather Bowen’s when she’d spelt out that I was out of my depth. Be that as it may, I wasn’t finished.
“After the accident, I found something in Scarlet’s bag.” I took the note out of my pocket and handed it to him. He took his spectacles out of the top pocket of his shirt, studied it and handed it back. “It’s the name and address of an elderly man killed in a suspected contract killing in London recently.” I didn’t dare admit that I’d seen Heather Bowen and she’d confirmed that the note was in Richard’s writing. “You see, Dad. There has to be more to Scarlet’s death.”
“Enough.” His anger was sudden, white and blinding. “Dear God, what are you playing at?” It wasn’t the response I was expecting. “Scarlet’s death was an unfortunate accident,” he said. “Nothing more. Nothing less.”
“But—”
“I haven’t finished,” he said with a glare. “Your mother and I have had our hearts broken. I appreciate why you might try to find sense in all of this, but you are mistaken. Sit down,” he said. I did. “Now tell me calmly and logically what you’ve been up to so that we can put this nonsense to bed once and for all.”
I took a breath and told him everything apart from the content of the note Scarlet left Nate. The more I told him, the calmer he became. When I finished, I couldn’t tell whether he was impressed or horrified by my doggedness.
“You actually went to this man’s address?”
“I did.”
He looked at me in awe. “Christ, Molly, you were taking a risk.”
I supposed I was, but I didn’t know then what I knew now.
“Okay,” he said bluntly. “Firstly, in the light of recent developments, the police will be looking at all of Scarlet’s contacts. If this man was on her radar, you can be certain they will establish it.”
I nodded in relieved agreement.
“Secondly, if you wish to take this further, I’ll support you all the way. Realistically, however, the police don’t have anything tangible to go on. I can vouch for the animal remains in your carport. We can report the knife you found but—”
“As it’s mine, it makes it less eye-catching and, chances are, whoever did it wore gloves.”
“I’m afraid so.”
“So; unless someone smacks me over the head, I won’t be taken seriously.”
His expression told me that, regrettably, I was bang on. “Putting that aside,” he continued briskly, “what exactly have you discovered about Binns?”
Like a pupil in front of a demanding, yet much admired, teacher, I wanted to slay him with the right answers. “It’s claimed he was an informer.”
“Odds on, the guy had criminal connections.”
“Could you find out?”
He cast me a reproving look. “Let’s not race ahead of ourselves. How did you obtain the information?”
“A newspaper report.”
Dad half-smiled. I knew what my Dad was thinking. According to him, newspapers turned opinion into Gospel. “And what do the police say?” he said.
He had me. I stalled. Everything about him suddenly softened. His tone. His body language. The way he looked at me. “To be scrupulously fair,” Dad said, “if the man was an informer, sure as hell the police won’t admit it.”
“You see,” I said, brightening.
“But even if he was, you still haven’t explained why your sister would be interested in him. An old lag of pensionable age? It doesn’t make sense.” Dad rammed home the point with the force of a nail gun.
Put like that, it didn’t.
He thought for a moment. I could see that, despite what he said, he had to admit it was all very strange. “What we don’t know is why Scarlet had this man’s name and address in her bag.”
“I assumed she’d visited him.”
“What have I taught you? Never assume.”
He was right.
“Working theory then.”
“Without evidence. Pity.”
“But the trip?”
Dad spread his hands. “What about it? The capital is a popular venue.”
“On her own, in a deadbeat hotel? You know that’s not her style.” Scarlet enjoyed weekends away in posh resorts with spas.
Dad drummed his fingers on the arm of the sofa. I looked out onto the garden and watched a crow strut threateningly across the lawn. I’d been hasty and foolish. I should have known I didn’t have enough to persuade my procedurally bound by the book father.
“With your permission, I’ll have a word with Stanton and explain about the break-in.”
I tuned out. What was the point? The police could hardly give me a log number when nothing had been nicked. I must have looked as dejected as I felt.
“Molly,” Dad said, leaning across and taking both my hands in his. “I understand what you’re doing. If I learnt anything when I was a police officer, it’s that when bad things happen to decent people they try to rationalise and explain them. It’s the most natural human response. But sometimes there are no explanations. There are no answers. With so little to go on, you literally don’t have a case. You’d need a lot more evidence than this. Not that I’m advocating you rush into a wild goose chase,” he added with a sympathetic smile.
I nodded absently, thinking I’d simply have to find more. Taking my silence as acceptance, he continued, “From now on, pay particular attention to your personal security. You lock your doors. You don’t go out alone at night. Make a list of anyone who could have something against you. You haven’t had a tricky customer lately, have you?” He sounded wary.
Instantly, I remembered Rocco Noble. He was odd, for sure, but a threat? “This business with Heather Bowen,” I began.
“It won’t come to anything.”
“You think?” I’d met the woman. Dad hadn’t. Heather Bowen seemed pretty sorted and she had two teenage lads to support.
“I don’t see how until after the inquest.”
“When is that likely to happen?”
“Usually takes three weeks.” He looked down. I got it. This wasn’t usual. Anything but. “Depends if there’s a criminal investigation, in which case the inquest will open and adjourn, with a verdict reached later.”
He didn’t expand, but I knew what he was thinking. If it were discovered that Scarlet deliberately targeted Richard Bowen, for whatever reason, our worst nightmare would come true and she would be officially labelled a murderer. I caught my breath, watched my Dad and tried to gauge his reaction.
He leant forward, squeezed my arm. “It’s all right, Molly. Everything that needs to be done is being done. Now,” he said, glancing up, “I’d better go and make my peace with your mother.”
Good luck, I thought, not for him, but for me.