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SOPHIE LISTENED TO The Recluse and the kid bicker as rain beat the windscreen relentlessly all the way to London. It only seemed to worsen as they drove to the south east of the city full of mucky, smog-stained concrete blocks. London was always full of nameless faces swarming over the streets like mindless insects over discarded food. Like most cities, many of those insects bore venomous intent crawling beside their unknowing victims.
Neither she or The Recluse cared much for such places but the kid stared out wide-eyed and with a smile as filled with intent as The Recluse. Some insects had venom but the pair with her in the car were far more deadly.
“Nice to see Mead is living in the same upmarket rats’ nest,” The Recluse said through her sneer. Her sun-kissed glow was so much more prominent beneath the grey clouds even though she was naturally far paler in complexion.
“He stayed where you trapped him,” Sophie said and checked her watch. It had taken them two or so hours to get here. She’d need at least two to make it back through rush hour traffic. “Pull underneath, he has an electric gate.”
“You mean that metal thing sliding across?” the kid muttered back in a flippant tone. “I thought that was just a wall.”
The Recluse clipped her across the head. “Only reason you’re still breathing is ’cause Sophie likes you.”
“Whatever.” Said in full Americanized twang. “Sophie loves me, don’t you Sophie?”
“Sometimes,” she grunted back. “When you remember your manners.”
The kid poked out her tongue but anyone would think Sophie had said something heart-warming. “I’m waiting out here. If anyone bugs me, I’m shooting them. You can bury them.”
The Recluse loaded her pistol. “That’s what the Thames is for.”
Sophie nodded. “With the bacteria in there, it’s far quicker.”
The kid snorted. “Thames it is.” She pulled out her phone. “Perfect.”
Sophie got out of the car into the disgustingly dirty rain. “When I left, she played computer games and read books.”
“She’s a teenager, Darl. She flirts with guys to milk them for their bank details and reads magazines on celebrities.” The Recluse rolled her eyes. “I tell her that fame isn’t everything.”
“She has you for a role model, I’m surprised she’s not targeting the celebrities.” Sophie chuckled and eyed the taxi depot—not Hackney carriages but “private hire” ones. “I want you to get information.”
“Don’t start your diatribe, I’m cold, I’m wet, and I could be pumping the kid for money in cards,” The Recluse said and kissed her on the lips. “I listened to you before and look where it got you?”
“I don’t need that amount of trouble—”
“You don’t get a say. Get back in and wait.” The Recluse yanked open the door. “In.”
Sophie pursed her lips but did as ordered and got into the back. The kid was busy sniggering at something on her phone. Sophie pulled out hers and thumbed over the keys, then smiled and sent a text to Morgan.
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Are you still talking to walls?
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She looked at the taxi depot only to catch the unmistakable muzzle flash and checked the street. It was a rough area where it seemed everyone was conveniently deaf, blind, and unable to notice gunfire.
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Yes, the one in the library keeps feeding me books.
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Sophie smiled. Yes, Morgan seemed to love the library as much as she did. The rain got heavier outside and people dashed to get out of the downpour. More muzzle flashes went off in the depot.
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I highly recommend one called The De Breton Lure: A tale of mystery in Hayefield. It should keep you occupied.
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It was hard not to chuckle. The book was probably bordering on a hundred years old and it had tantalized generations of library dwellers. Her grandmother in particular had read it twice a year.
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I know far too much about your lure, thank you. xxx
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Sophie thumbed over the kisses.
“She done yet?” the kid mumbled and started the car without so much as looking up.
Sophie glanced out the window as The Recluse strolled into the rain. “Yes, and I promised you dinner.”
She smiled, leaned over, and tapped in the postcode of the exclusive restaurant.
“Alright.” Again the kid sounded American.
The Recluse put something in the boot and climbed into the backseat beside her. “Bright is our next stop.”
“Let’s have dinner and we can discuss it.” Sophie nodded to the kid who sped them off down the street, texting with one hand. “You know the place.”
The Recluse laughed. “I’ll take the charm, Darl, but don’t think I’ll give in. I’m immune these days.”
Sophie smiled in a way she knew would provoke a response. “Is that so?”
The Recluse’s lips parted.
Sophie laughed and winked at the kid in the mirror. “Hayes are irresistible, remember that.”
The Recluse narrowed her eyes but didn’t argue simply because they both knew she couldn’t.
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I WAS BACK on duty, had doubled the patrols, persuaded Raquel to have dinner at Hayefield with brandy, finished my paperwork, driven myself crazy over the walkway, and tried not to think about Sophie every five seconds.
It was eight o’clock and I even got in my daily run, twice, and helped Edwina search for Frank—he’d come down with the sniffles and was bedbound. Personally, I thought he had allergies and needed to take anti-histamines but when I’d offered them, he’d told me that he’d not taken a sick day in twenty years.
I was in my office, stress ball in hand, mid-way through a book entitled The De Breton Lure: A tale of mystery in Hayefield. This one admitted it was fiction unlike Bunion’s and was one corker of a bodice ripper. Lord Eric De Breton swanned around in tight trousers, riding boots, and a frilly shirt, and took on some men who’d kidnapped his favourite maid. Of course, good old Eric was utterly honourable underneath his heartthrob exterior and had only loved the fair Geraldine and never even glanced at anyone else.
I half wanted to write to the author and tell her that if she wanted a follow up, I could tell her all about how innocent the Haye family were.
Now, I know you’re rolling your eyes and you’re right, I had been warned and ignored it so “I told you so” firmly received. Thank you for pointing out the obvious.
My phone rang and I picked it up to check if Trin hadn’t tried withholding her number again. I grinned. “Hi, has your head recovered yet?”
Fiona grunted. “It took me three days to eat properly again.” She sighed. “I don’t know why Sophie put up with me.”
“Because she loves you.” Which was the one concrete fact I knew about Sophie. She didn’t hide her affection for Fiona at all or her love for Jake.
“And you sound like you’re hiding something.” Fiona was observant at the best of times. “I think it’s that you have strong feelings for her.”
“You’re spot on, as always. Why aren’t you leading the investigation again?” I squeezed my stress ball and spun-threw it up in the air.
“Oh, no thank you, I feel queasy enough reading the crime scene forms.” Fiona gurgle groaned the way she did to her kids when they’d said something disgusting. Made me laugh, always did. “So, gossip, please.”
If I could see her, she’d be tapping her ear and leaning close for me to confess.
“I told her I was in love with her,” I mumbled and caught my stress ball with a thunk. “I slept with her, I told her I loved her, and I don’t even feel guilty.”
Fiona laughed a delighted laugh. I wasn’t expecting that reaction. “Knew it. Good. Don’t let her play with you though, okay? You have to call her out on it if you notice her doing it. She doesn’t know how to have a normal relationship . . . remember . . . different.”
“When I tried calling her out on it, she stepped up whatever she does and I’ve been in a daze all afternoon.” I threw the ball up with perfect spin.
“That’s normal. She puts me in a daze and I don’t want to get in her bed.” Fiona had her “happy” voice on. She was delighted by most things but, as I said before, she’d married a school liaison officer. “Just remember that when she is doing it, she’s doing it to hide or defend herself. Use that detective brain of yours and take her to task like I do. She’ll be completely wrong footed by it and she might grumble but she does listen.”
And I knew I could listen to Fiona because I’d never seen Sophie so soft with anyone. “Noted, thank you, chief agony aunt.”
Fiona chuckled. “Anyway. I was calling because we had forensics reports on the Jackie Rampone case. She was killed with a large blade which the pathologist believes was the same one used with Bunion.” She hummed to herself and it echoed like she was in a bathroom or tunnel. “They found no laptop, no purse, or phone or anything. Then her DNA matched a woman called Jackie Mead who was the wife of some criminal in London.”
“Why would the wife of a criminal be Sophie’s accountant?” Unless the story about her grandfather and “Walter” was correct in Bunion’s book.
“No idea. I never knew her. I do know that Trin wasn’t buying it and had a raging argument with Ruth over it. Derek overruled Trin and they asked some guys from the Met to check out Mead.” Fiona let through a long breath. “Trin is really peeved that she was forced to use your relationship to try and get information. She and Ruth are barely talking.”
“I don’t really care about Trin or Ruth right now.” I grunted it, hearing the bitterness again. I hated the sound. I wasn’t a bitter person. My ex-boyfriend had been bitter about me losing the baby. He’d told me it was my fault for working up until eight months. He was right. I’d accepted that but his anger and bitterness had been too hard to accept. I didn’t want to be him, even if I was right to be bitter.
“I know but just because she’s conflicted and needs counselling, doesn’t mean she didn’t love you.” Fiona liked to remind me how not to be bitter. It worked. How did she mother me so well?
“Thank you, chief agony aunt,” I mumbled and threw my stress ball. Mick caught it and eyed me like I wasn’t allowed to take personal calls. “It’s Fiona.”
He smiled. “Tell her I say thanks for the malt. Top notch.”
“Welcome,” Fiona bellowed into my ear.
“I’m going now. Mick is going to tell me off even when I’m in charge,” I said and stared at him to prove that I was.
Fiona blew a kiss and hung up.
Mick studied me, then handed back the ball. “I was coming to tell you that Jimmy needs you at the stables. There’s an issue with the gate.”
I nodded and threw my ball onto my desk then headed out into the crisp evening air. It smelled of something sweet, almost citrusy and I took long deep sniffs of it. I loved the estate, I really did.