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Chapter Seventeen

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I set my trap, putting Fynn and Posh on guard while I took Rachel out to the Black Olive and then out sailing. But as I feared, the killer refused to bite. Gossiping about Rachel finding keys to a second storage locker in the Majestic gym didn't work either.

Frustrated, I worked on building my new business, and fretted over the case. I was horribly aware of my failure and it bugged the hell out of me. But there was little I could do.

On Saturday afternoon, we buried Mandy. Mum, Isa, and Belle came to support Rachel while Quentin, Sean, Alex, Karma, Tank, and I were pallbearers. DeVere turned up with a sombre-looking Donovan in his wake.

Noah Digby, Ringmere's vicar, frisked over straight away. "Lucian, what a delight." And with a glance at us and the coffin, "I wasn't expecting to see you here."

DeVere smiled and murmured conventional nothings, but he looked as if he was having his back teeth filled. "Lara would have come, but she's indisposed."

Meaning his wife would see hell freeze over rather than attend the funeral of one of her husband's leg-overs.

Digby's pursed mouth signalled his distaste. "We'll go straight into the prayer."

DeVere pounced instantly. "Thanks, vicar. I am rather pressed for time."

But Mum gave them both a hard stare. "The mayor will address the congregation. And so will Rachel."

The vicar was scandalised but faced with all of us eyeballing him, he nodded. He didn't do it gracefully, though, and when he muttered something about Mary Magdalene, only Rachel hanging on to my arm prevented him from being slammed into his own altar.

Sensing my rage, Digby shot a glance at me and scuttled over to his lectern. "Shall we start?"

As we took our places, the church doors opened. Tatty and Sara appeared.

"We came to show our respects," Tatty told Rachel.

Sara noted the vicar's sour face. "Mandy was a lovely woman." His baritone echoed around the ancient walls. "We'll miss her, won't we, Tatty?"

Then the doors opened again, and Hogan Williams, Doc Jerry, and Doc Galen appeared.

Hogan nodded at Digby, saying loudly as he slid into the pew, "I did Mandy's accounts. Such a lovely young woman, and so kind always."

Galen pushed an envelope into Rachel's hands. "We had a whip-round at the hospital. For funeral expenses. If there's any left over, please give it to Mandy's favourite charity."

As Digby gasped in surprise, the doors banged open again. Marcella from Tresses, the hairdresser, Inna who ran the beauty salon, Dave from the organic butcher, Mo the electrician and two dozen Lion and Unicorn regulars flooded in.

"We all liked Mandy." Harry Ronaldson, captain of the local rugby club, hugged Rachel. "We all loved Mandy."

They were followed by Millie Dean leading a group from the Majestic that included my cousins Sorcha and Jessie. Eyes flashing, Millie announced, "We've come to say goodbye to Mandy, a hardworking woman and a kind one." Then, with an evil look at the vicar. "I'm glad you're sorting this out, Trigger, because God knows the establishment doesn't give a damn about us sinners."

Sorcha embraced me. "Thanks for doing this, Trigger."

Jessie was right behind her. "Yes. I'm glad you're finding justice for Mandy, love."

"I'm not there yet."

Jessie shrugged, and there was a glint of battle in her eyes. "Yet."

They descended on Rachel.

"Poor love."

"We're here for you."

"You're not alone."

As Rachel welled and hugged them all back, and the vicar and mayor tried to look invisible, the doors opened again, and a buxom blonde in black peeked in. Spotting Rachel, she squawked in a rich East London accent, "Rachel! Hold your horses, okay, pet? We all got a bit lost, didn't we?"

She flashed off and a few minutes later there was a loud blaring of a horn and then the sound of engines. Within minutes, she was back, leading a score of beautiful women, all dressed in black and carrying roses.

Fynn's eyes were on stalks. "That's Honey Blue. She's huge on OnlyFans."

Posh stuck out his chest and beamed, "And Suzi Peek and Diamond Babe."

A posse of men, some in suits, some casually dressed, but all carrying cards followed the cam queens. They crowded around the coffin, placing them on top. I glimpsed one, a donation made to Great Ormond Street Hospital for Children.

Honey Blue hugged Rachel, pounded a cringing vicar on the back, and then made a bee-line for me. "Trigger Cullen!" I got a hug too. "We heard you arranged the funeral."

"You're welcome."

"Promise you'll catch the bastard that topped Mandy."  

"I'll do my best."

"Good. May he burn in hell forever."

And on that pious note, the vicar swelled with suppressed annoyance, called us to order and started the prayers.

Funerals like weddings usually prompt self-reflection, but as Digby droned on about sin, I focussed on the possibilities. For the first time, I had access to the invisible people who'd known and loved Mandy. Her killer might be here, but that wouldn't help me. He was adept at hiding himself. But with this crowd, someone might identify him.

Not everyone stays for a whole service, especially when a bore like Digby is in charge, but thankfully, everyone stayed put. Even so, when Digby finally stood back and asked, "Would anyone like to say a few words in remembrance?" I was on my feet. "Me."

Ignoring a chuntering vicar and a gobsmacked DeVere, I took up position at the lectern. Amazingly, the holy water didn't boil, and the roof stayed intact.

My message was to the point. "If you want justice, listen." I kept it short, a bare bones story, ending with, "I need the name of the boy who got Mandy involved in that teenage scam. Or, if you can, the name of the family in Newcastle who took her in after."

Digby was purple. "If you don't mind, this is a holy place, not a bounty-hunter gathering."

"Just bringing darkness into the light, vicar."

Leaving a fuming Digby to introduce DeVere, I sat back down, knowing that I had done all I could. But just in case, I told Fynn and Posh to pass around the message that there would be a wake in the pub, with a free drink for any friend of Mandy's who turned up.

The word was certainly going around because a buzz of conversation drowned out DeVere's speech. It died down when Rachel spoke, but as she ended her eulogy of her friend with a, "Do talk to Max, I mean, Trigger Cullen. We'll be in the Lion and Unicorn just a block away from here" it was all the vicar could do not to kick us out.

But we got through it, laid Mandy to rest, and then led the way to the pub.

To my surprise, DeVere came too. Donovan wasn't keen, but the mayor stuck his chin out. "I may not have shown my best side in this, but I'm not a coward. I won't hide from my critics. I engage."

Hogan Williams approved. "That's the ticket. Proper backbone."

Mum was less impressed. "He can come, but I draw the line at Digby. That sermon on sin was completely hypocritical."

Rachel slid in, whispering, "Honey brought her video crew. We're doing an impromptu appeal. It will go on all our feeds."

Alex was front and centre. "I'll make sure it's on the Majestic's social media too."

Donovan shook his head. "This may be very unpopular. People can be so judgemental. Think of the backlash."

Money is Alex's god but this time my cousin just shrugged. "So what? As long as it gets the job done." Donovan was taken aback, and I was too. But then Alex murmured, "His Lordship's orders are to help Trigger."

My grandfather had stepped up to support me. The knowledge warmed me but I knew that this was my last chance. With Mandy buried and all the witnesses dead, my only hope was that this appeal would shake loose that single, deadly detail.

Aware of my roiling gut, I kept busy. That wasn't difficult; the Lion and Unicorn was packed. As Quentin pulled pints and Mum opened a case of house white and another of red, I worked the room.

Apart from discovering that Hogan Williams had set up both Mandy's and Rachel's business entities and worked on their accounts, I got nothing from the mourners. The men extolled her warmth and spirit, the women her hard work and kindness.

Honey put it in a nutshell, "I don't care what she did as a kid. She started in a hard place, and that's not easy. But she worked hard and turned herself into a star. I'm proud to have known her."

The messages that flooded into my phone were mostly the same. As always with a public appeal, there were some nuts, but the block function took care of them.

At six o'clock, the London crowd packed up and left, leaving just the regulars.

DeVere stayed too, uncharacteristically drinking a third gin. From the absence of Lara at the church and the gathering, it wasn't hard to guess that his marriage was falling apart fast.

Donovan confirmed it. "The Rampage just learned Lucian was at the funeral," he sighed. "It won't go down well with the voters."

"Stuff them."

"That's all right for you to say," Donovan said quietly. "But you caused a lot of fuss and it didn't get you anywhere, did it? You're no closer to solving the case but Lucian has been hit badly." He sighed. "It's going to take months to fix this."

He was right. It had been a fine effort. I couldn't think of a stone left unturned, but it had gotten me zip. "Something will shake loose." I sounded upbeat but I wasn't feeling it.

Rachel popped up, all cried out and tired. "Max, is it okay if I leave some papers upstairs?" She had a large brown paper parcel with her. "Hogan gave me Mandy's accounts. I'll need to file them as part of probate."

"Of course, love."

DeVere smiled ironically. "Death and taxes. Life's only two inescapables."

"Yes."

"They did for Al Capone." DeVere continued. "I make sure my paperwork is in excellent order."

Donovan laughed politely, but his heart wasn't in it. He looked shattered.

I was about to offer him a single malt when my phone buzzed. I recognised the number as Spanish. When I picked up, the camera came on. An elderly man with snow white hair and a shy, "I'm awfully sorry to bother you. Uhm, I was just shown a video. I understand Mandy passed away. Uhm, I'm calling from Alicante."

This was it. This was my man. "You knew Mandy Owens? I'm Max Cullen."

The watery blue eyes took me in. "Trigger Cullen. You're in all the papers."

For a moment, I feared he'd disconnect. If he did, I'd be on a plane to Spain.

Then he smiled. "Sorry, son. I talk out loud sometimes. My name's Bright, Henry Bright. Mandy stayed with me and my wife some years ago."

Yes! "In Newcastle?"

He blinked. "Why yes. How did you know?"

"I've been looking for you." The chatter from the crowd drowned out the soft voice. Nodding at Donovan, I stepped outside. "I'm so glad you've called, Mr Bright."

"We lost touch," he said apologetically. "I couldn't believe the news. How is her poor mother?"

"She passed away a few years ago."

"I'm so sorry." He spoke softly but with genuine warmth, "They tried so hard but there was so much guilt. And addiction. Poor souls."

Conscious of my rising tension, I interrupted. "You obviously knew them well. Tell me, do you perhaps have a son?"

His mouth drooped. "We were never blessed with children."

The thirst for justice vanquished fleeting guilt. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry. It's just that Mandy used to talk about a boy she was close to when she was a teen. I'd love to find him."

He frowned. "You mean the young tearaway who got her mixed up with a dangerous crowd."

Bingo. "Yes."

The blue gaze was fixed on me. Old but sharp as a tack. And from the ancient ropy muscles, and the way he held himself, this was a man well acquainted with the evil in the world.

He went for it. "You know about that bit of trouble, don't you?"

"Yes, I do."

He sighed. "She was killed? He came back into her life?"

"I'm afraid so."

The old man shuddered. "Oh, poor little Mandy. And her caseworker too? Intan is gone as well?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Yes, but this is awful." Henry Bright was putting it together. "So that's why you're looking for him. Revenge?"

"Justice."

He nodded. "I'll try to help but it was years ago. I can't remember his name."

My gut dipped. "Maybe if you tell me about it, I can figure it out?"

"Certainly." He got right to it. "Mandy came to us because her caseworker discovered she'd been extorting men for money. A honey trap."

This was the goods. "Do you know the details?"

"It was all off the record," he murmured. "Although it was obvious the boy came up with the blackmail scheme, Intan feared the parents would blame Mandy. And with the boy's father being a member of the council, they'd stitch her up."

All the air punched out of my lungs. "His father was a counsellor? He wasn't a Razor?"

The old man chuckled. "Lord, no! They were a thoroughly respectable family."

"But they were hustling punters outside the Spinnaker."

He shrugged. "Drunks don't have their wits about them."

I'd been led astray by an assumption. They'd gone to the Spinnaker because it was a pub; I'd let the location trick me into imagining a connection.

I'd kick myself later. For now, I needed that name. "Respectable? And political." Looking through the window, I saw the mayor was nose to nose with Doc Jerry and Steve Galen. "Lucian DeVere?"

"No."

Grimstead clinked glasses with Sara and Tatty. "John Grimstead?"

"No." The mouth twisted as he thought. "It was Irish."

"Donovan?"

"That's it. Arnold Donovan."

I ripped open the door, searching frantically. But it was no use. My heart plunged into my boots. Donovan had vanished. And so had Rachel.