Chrissie received a reply on the drive to Manchester that evening. She pulled over at the next services to check the message, then read it out to her brother.
Thanks, Chrissie. If you and Tina want to come down thats fine with me. I’d feel happier with you both here. Too much to tell you now but please bring the document. We need to find a more secure place. Theres a train just after 10am from Glasgow Central gets in to Preston at 12.20. I’ll be there to meet you. Okay?
‘You want to know how I know this isn’t Billie?’
‘How?’
‘Because he didn’t put an apostrophe in that’s or there’s. He’s such a pedant on those things. Never misses. So who do you think is doing this?’
‘My money’s on a guy called Meredith, who works for Gris. Emily will tell you all about him when you get here. You’ll have to hunker down with her, just so you know. Rooms are in short supply, and Robin and I already booked the honeymoon suite.’
‘Fine with me, honey. I just hope she has her own earplugs. I’ll need my beauty sleep if I’ve got a hot date with Meredith.’
*
Chrissie’s confirmation of their 'date' arrived as Meredith returned from another rendezvous outside the house. He entered the kitchen after reading her response and found Helen chopping onions.
‘Where is he?’
‘Who?’
‘Our guest with the headache.’
‘Upstairs. He said he wanted to lie down. He only went up about ten minutes ago.’
‘Good. Get him down here again. I want a word with both of you.’ He didn’t wait for a reply, and went in search of his boss. He found him in Vinke’s office on the next level.
‘We’re good to go tomorrow. The other half just confirmed.’
Sir Antony Jaeger did not turn around. He had positioned Vinke’s wheelchair for a view out over the countryside to the north-west, yet his eyes failed to see any beauty. His restless brain perceived the shades of green and brown as an abstract of mucus and excrement. ‘What did you say?’
‘Arrangements are in hand for Preston. She just sent a reply.’
‘And who do you think will be there?’
‘Not the daughter. They’ll know Vane wouldn’t have agreed to that. They’ll be desperate to get him back, and they’re curious. The girl still thinks her target is alive, so she’s not going to resist an opportunity to get closer, is she?’
‘You think Emily Whatsername will make an appearance?’
‘Almost certainly. If we can isolate her tomorrow, that’ll give us two bites at the cherry. I can play one off against the other if I wish.’
Jaeger smiled. ‘I’d say you were already doing that, after a fashion. What have you got there?’
While they had been speaking, Meredith pulled out several files from a cupboard. Now he held up a slim cardboard folder with “North Manchester Divisional HQ” printed at the top, and “NQA” marked in red felt tip pen in one corner. ‘A little memento our unexpected guest should appreciate, and it might just encourage a little more cooperation.’
*
Forty miles to the south, Emily came out of the bathroom fresh from her shower, ready to exchange girl-talk with her roommate.
‘Better?’ enquired Chrissie, lying on one of the twin beds in a matching bathrobe.
‘Much,’ replied Emily. ‘Thanks for the loan of your scissors. I’ve been itching to cut off those bleached tips for days. Not my normal style, but they served a purpose.’
‘You tend to live by extremes, don’t you?’
Emily started to brush out her damp hair. ‘True. I suppose I get bored easily.’
‘So, tell me your version of that little honey trap you set for my friend back at the Mitchell.’ Chrissie wasn’t prepared to pull her punches, and knew instinctively she’d hit a vulnerable spot.
‘He told you? Of course he would. Dumb question, Em.’ She put the hairbrush down and sat on the stool. ‘You two were pretty close, weren’t you? Look, I’ll apologise to Billie when I see him, but don’t worry. I already wrote to the library and withdrew the allegation.’
‘You’d better. That upset him a lot.’
‘I know. But I needed to do something. I was running out of people I could trust, and Billie was my best shot at… I dunno, what would you call it?’
‘A fall guy?’
‘No! A… a sort of champion, maybe? Someone who could fight my corner? He did that for you, didn’t he? A few years ago?’
Chrissie sat up, intrigued. ‘Billie did a lot for me. Yes, I’d agree with that description. What did he say about me?’
Emily shook her head, and resumed brushing her hair. ‘Not just to me. It was a room full of people, including my mum. A few years back, he gave a talk at the Mitchell about your connection to that woman charged with murder. Mum and I went, as it was about a true crime, and I was studying for my degree in Glasgow at the time. That was how my agent came to include the place on my own book tour, because I mentioned it to her. I did tell Billie.’
‘And he’d be flattered by that, knowing him.’
‘He was.’ She put her brush to one side, smiling at a private memory. ‘He’s cute, isn’t he?’
Chrissie almost blushed. ‘Yeah. Yes, he still is.’
‘What happened? You obviously still have feelings for the guy?’
Is it that obvious? But she kept the thought to herself, looking for an answer from the abstract print on the wall next to the bed. ‘We were doing okay, for a while. Ocean hopping, getting to share each other’s favourite things. Then life got in the way. Or I suppose I did.’ She eased her head back on to the pillow. Not looking directly at Emily made it easier to talk somehow. ‘I inherited an empire to run, and I guess that’s what did it. I had to change, become more like Terry, my aunt. I grew a tougher exterior, and Billie wasn’t so keen. Can’t say I blame him. I could be a bitch sometimes, and it’s too easy to blame the Atlantic for putting distance between us. I should have worked something out.’ She sat up again and faced Emily. ‘Have you slept with him?’
‘No,’ came the instant response. ‘But I did put him on my “To Do” list. Would it bother you much if I left him on it?’
*
At that moment the object of the girls’ discussion was reflecting on the time spent briefly in the company of another. Billie remembered she had introduced herself as Emily, twin sister of Emma Dearing. Shoulder-length brown hair with bleached tips. He was looking at them now, in a crime scene photo held by Meredith. Taken on the edge of a dock somewhere, water glistened out of focus in the background. Front and centre were the head and shoulders of a young woman lying on her back as if asleep. When she was alive, she might have been attractive, but in death her features were damply distorted. Billie’s stomach responded, sending a little of what it was processing in the reverse direction. He looked away, fighting to push the stinging bile back where it came from.
‘Recognise her?’ A silky voice nearby. ‘Of course you do. A resident of Salford Quays. And that’s precisely where I put her when she refused to tell me where another resident had gone. The police dragged her out a few hours later. And because I’m on especially good terms with them, they let me have this little souvenir.’ Meredith was satisfied with Billie’s reaction. Time to twist the knife. ‘That is what happens when people refuse to cooperate. Bear that in mind when Sir Antony asks the question. Now sit.’
Billie did so, his knees about to buckle. Meredith snapped his fingers to capture Helen Vinke’s attention, and she meekly followed him from the room. All manner of thoughts and emotions were scrambled in Billie’s head, not the least was his perception of the girl he’d known as Emma Dearing. A twin with a different name? Someone like her now dead. Meredith’s assumption he would know her as Emily. Whoever she was, the girl had put him in an impossible position. And Peter Gris had been dead all the time!
His hardbacked chair remained isolated near the huge windows. The last rays of a setting sun cast an orange glow over leather furniture, shadows threatening in the gathering gloom. A quiet hum in the distance spoke of an electric wheelchair advancing in the hallway.