10

Quick-smart, I stepped back from Leo, way back, into my electric-fenced Cass immunity jurisdiction. Caught my breath. Buttoned up my shirt. Leo gave me a smouldering look, then turned abruptly towards the door.

It swung open before he’d even touched the handle.

‘Mum? Are you in there? You all right?’ Six foot one of extremely unwelcome cop barged in and there stood Dean, a little breathless, dripping rain onto the floor. ‘Saw your car on the road. You OK? Who’s this bloke?’

‘Leo Stone.’ He held out his hand. ‘Showbag’s cousin. I’ve been away a while…’ He trailed off.

Dean gave him a suspicious look. ‘The dead bloke, right? Who isn’t dead.’ He looked at me. ‘Mum? I was worried sick when I saw your car. Is everything OK? Your face is all red.’

‘I’m fine, Dean. Thanks.’ Now he was motivated?

‘So what are you doing here?’

‘Ah, having dinner.’

He looked at my clothes. ‘Why are you wearing those?’

‘Sit down, Dean, and let me explain.’

Over a glass of wine—none for Dean, I’m on duty—I managed to explain the situation. The brown car situation, that is. There was no need to go into the confusion of the Leo situation. Obviously.

‘Anyway, Leo was kind enough to help me out.’

‘Well, you should have called me, Mum. Immediately.’ His mouth turned down. ‘Anyway, I’ll drop you home.’

‘Oh no, it’s miles out of your way.’

‘Yeah. I’d be happy to drive Cass home,’ Leo said quickly.

Dean stared pointedly at the glass of wine in Leo’s hand.

‘Or you’d be welcome to stay here the night, Cass. And we’ll take a look at your car in the morning.’

I smiled. A tempting idea, but hardly likely to be acceptable to Serena. In fact, nothing about this evening was likely to be acceptable to Serena. Leo might well have a bit of explaining to do.

‘No.’ Dean’s face was stony. ‘Not with this bloke out there after you. And we don’t yet know who he is.’ He gave Leo a glare.

What did that mean? Did Dean think Leo was the driver of the brown Fairlane?

‘I insist on driving you home, Mum. I won’t hear any other suggestion.’

Leo tried again, but there was no shifting Dean.

It rained nonstop on the drive home.

‘I want you staying right away from him, Mum.’

‘The bloke with the brown Fairlane? Absolutely.’

‘Well, yes, him too, if he exists. But I meant that weird bloke calling himself Leo Stone.’

‘What? No, no, he’s definitely Leo.’

‘I don’t see how you can be so sure.’

‘I’m absolutely sure that’s Leonard Michael Stone. I went to school with him.’ No need to mention all the other stuff. The other non-stuff.

‘You haven’t seen Leo Stone in over twenty years. No one has. So who’d have a clue if this bloke was an impostor?’

‘Well, I would.’ There was no mistaking that was Leo. Those hands. Those lips. Christ, you’d think the feelings would have faded just a tiny bit after twenty years. So much for immunity.

‘Yeah, who else?’

‘Showbag. They’re cousins. He’d know.’

‘I mean who else in the sense of someone who could be considered reliable?’

‘So you’re saying I’m unreliable?’

The headlights of a passing truck lit up Dean’s face for a moment. His jaw had a worryingly rock-hard look about it.

‘I’m just saying you don’t know this bloke. The whole set-up’s suspicious. Why’d he fake his own death?’

‘He didn’t fake it. There was a yacht accident…’ I trailed off.

‘Well, someone’s faked his reappearance, then.’

Oh for God’s sake. The combination of two glasses of wine, unresolved sexual tension and Dean’s warped logic was making my head hurt.

I slumped against the side window and pretended I’d gone to sleep.