‘And then?’

‘And then what?’

Wayne rubbed at his face. ‘What do we do with the bitch when she does show up?’

A smile crept on to Sharon’s lips. She lowered her voice and asked, ‘Where’s your mother?’

‘Out.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Listen,’ he said, cupping a hand to his ear. ‘Can you hear anything?’

‘No.’

‘So she’s definitely out.’

Sharon grinned. ‘Well, this is what I’m thinking: that Nathan Stone, he’s got a few bob, ain’t he?’

‘What of it?’

‘So he owes you. Well, he owes Kelly and it’s the same thing. Family’s family. You can’t let people take the piss. You play this right and you could earn yourself a few quid. We could all earn a few quid.’

‘And how’s that going to happen?’

‘She’s Stone’s tart, ain’t she?’

‘What of it?’

‘So he’s not going to want to see her get hurt.’

Wayne thought about this for a while, the effort creating furrows on his forehead. ‘But if the two of them are at it, he’ll be watching out for her.’

‘Yeah, well, he can’t watch her twenty-four hours a day.’

Wayne gave a nod. ‘Pym reckons she was staying at a guesthouse near Kellston station. Oaklands, it’s called. She might book in there again if she does come down. We could always —’

‘I’ll tell you how we’re going to do it, hon.’ Sharon leaned across the table, her eyes bright and greedy. ‘Listen to me. I’ve got it all worked out.’

25

Gerald Frayne shook the snow from his shoes and brushed the rain from the shoulders of his heavy overcoat before stepping inside the pub. A blast of noise hit him as he opened the door, a mixture of conversation, laughter and music from the jukebox; the White Swan was popular with the locals and this evening it was doing a brisk trade.

He made his way to the bar and while he was waiting to be served took the opportunity to look around. The usual faces were in evidence, including a few minor villains chatting in the corner. It was the kind of pub where the women dressed to impress – there were lots of miniskirts, plunging necklines, big hair and shiny costume jewellery on view – and the men, more casually attired in shellsuits or jeans and T-shirt, quite blatantly eyed them up.

It was a habit of Gerald’s to have a drink in the Swan from time to time. This wasn’t because he was particularly fond of the place – he wasn’t – but it was where the gossip did the rounds and he liked to keep his ear to the ground. It was surprising how much you could learn in the twenty minutes it took to drink a pint.

‘Evening,’ the barman said. ‘Nice to see you again. The usual?’

‘Thank you.’

‘Still raining is it?’

‘A little.’

While the Guinness was settling, a middle-aged man sidled over from the other side of the bar. He drew close to Gerald, lifted his pale blue eyes, smiled and gave an almost obsequious nod.

‘Ah, Inspector Frayne. Fancy seeing you here. Great minds think alike.’

Gerald didn’t much care for Peter Royston. Some reporters he could get along with, the ones that played fair and didn’t twist the truth, but this man was a scandalmonger; he liked to dig the dirt and didn’t give a damn about the consequences. Despite his antipathy, Gerald smiled back. It didn’t do to let your personal feelings get in the way of the job and Royston often had useful snippets of information. ‘Nasty evening,’ he said. ‘It’s good to get into the warm.’

Royston sipped on his drink, watching Gerald with a sly expression on his face. ‘I hear you’ve been busy.’

Gerald lifted his eyebrows, already suspecting where this was going. ‘We’re always busy. No rest for the wicked.’

‘You’re investigating the Eddie Wise murder, aren’t you?’

Gerald had long since ceased to be amazed at how quickly news travelled in a small town like Haverlea. ‘I wouldn’t go that far. We’re just helping with a few enquiries.’

‘And is there likely to be an arrest soon?’

‘I really couldn’t say.’

Royston put his glass down on the counter. He cleared his throat and ran his tongue over his plump fleshy lips. ‘I saw her this afternoon over at the Hunters’.’

‘And who was that?’ replied Gerald, feigning ignorance.

‘Sadie Wise, of course. She was at Emily Hunter’s birthday bash. I’m surprised you weren’t there.’

Gerald gave a shrug. ‘Too busy, I’m afraid.’ He had received an invitation but had graciously declined, claiming – untruthfully, as it happened – that pressure of work meant he was unable to attend. The Hunters were one of the more influential families in Haverlea and he’d suspected that either Frank or Emily would try to bend his ear about the innocence of their future daughter-in-law. Although he would have been interested in seeing Sadie Wise again, he had decided, on balance, that he was better off keeping his distance. It could be awkward, after accepting the Hunter’s hospitality, if he later had to arrest the girl.

‘It’s an interesting case.’

Gerald, although he was of the same opinion, gave a light shrug. He was always cautious around Royston. Any comment he made could be taken and twisted and splashed across the front page of the next edition of the local rag.

‘She’s a pretty girl,’ the reporter continued, undeterred by the lack of feedback. ‘A bit jumpy, though. She looked positively horrified when she saw me talking to her friend. I wonder why that was?’

Gerald lifted his pint of Guinness, took a long draught and put the glass back on the bar. ‘Everyone is horrified when they find you talking to their friends, Peter. It’s a natural reaction.’

Royston sniggered. ‘Now that’s not a nice thing to say, Inspector. It’s lucky I’m not the sensitive sort.’

‘No one could accuse you of that.’

‘Odd thought though, a slip of a girl plunging a knife into the chest of her husband. Still, appearances can be deceptive. You wouldn’t think she was capable but —’

‘Good do, was it?’ Gerald asked. ‘Many people there?’

‘Not bad. Not bad at all.’ Royston, who was used to people trying to deflect him, carried on regardless. ‘Still, a woman scorned and all that. I hear he walked out on her a few years back. Must have been tough to take. Is it true that he stole from her too?’

‘I couldn’t possibly comment.’

‘Of course Emily Wise made a point of showing her support, but then she would, wouldn’t she?’ Royston paused for a few seconds before adding, ‘You had any of the nationals sniffing round, the Sun or the Mirror?’

‘Not yet.’

‘That’s something, I suppose. If you do make an arrest —’

‘We’ll be sure to let you know.’

Royston rubbed his hands together in gleeful anticipation of what might be to come. ‘I’d appreciate it. You don’t often get a decent story round here. It’d be good to have a head start on the London boys.’

Gerald gave a thin smile. ‘Of course. I understand.’

‘Well, I’ll leave you to enjoy your pint in peace.’

As he watched Royston lumber away, Gerald’s smile quickly vanished. The man reminded him of one of those cane toads, large and ugly and toxic to anything that got too close. Still, at least he hadn’t got wind of the news that had come through from McCloud this morning. Gerald frowned as he thought about it. There had been an anonymous phone call to Cowan Road police station insisting that Sadie was involved with a man called Nathan Stone, a villain who worked for the Kellston gangster Terry Street. But was it the truth or was someone just trying to stir up trouble?

‘She was seen with him, apparently, down the dogs last Saturday night.’

‘Any way of verifying that?’ Gerald had asked. ‘She certainly didn’t mention it to me.’