‘I want to check one thing with you.’

‘Fine. Just get on with it.’

‘You know when you told me we hadn’t done much about kids harassing your mum, what did you mean?’

‘Well, you didn’t, did you? Your lot wouldn’t even come out.’

‘To what, though, Kim?’

‘It doesn’t matter now, does it?’

Jessica was already feeling exasperated and glad she hadn’t gone to see the girl in person, as had been her original plan. She’d had to phone the station and ask for a favour on the quiet to get someone to pass Kim’s contact details on to her. There were a few people she trusted to keep something like that under the radar.

‘I’m not trying to trip you up, Kim. I just want to make sure we’ve checked all angles.’

‘Fine. Look, it went on for a while. There was always kids knocking on the door and running and all that and harassing her on the street. But then one of them put glue in the front-door lock one night. We had to climb out the window. Your lot hadn’t done anything before and were always hassling Mum on the street so she couldn’t be bothered. She just got . . . someone she knew to fix things.’

Jessica’s heart was racing, all signs of a hangover long gone. ‘Who?’

‘I dunno. I wasn’t even in. Just someone she knew.’

Jessica didn’t want to ask the obvious but couldn’t see a way around it. ‘One of her clients?’

‘Piss off. Don’t talk about her like that.’

‘Please, Kim. I . . . Look, it could be really helpful.’

‘Whatever. I don’t know. It was just someone she knew.’

Jessica apologised for the call, ignored the sweary response and hung up. She was in her living room, sitting on the sofa in a still-empty flat. She took a deep breath, her heart still charging. She would have to make at least two more phone calls with the first to Garry Ashford to get Paul Keegan’s phone number. She didn’t want to risk another call to the station to get information that technically she wasn’t entitled to any longer. It most likely wouldn’t have got her in trouble but she didn’t want to alert anyone to the fact she was still doing background work on the case.

She kept the call to Garry short and didn’t give him any reason why she needed the number. He sounded more hungover than she did but text-messaged her the number. Straight away Jessica phoned Paul Keegan. The poor guy sounded shattered on the other end and she just couldn’t bring herself to ask him anything over the phone. She asked if he could spare an hour or so and they arranged to meet in a cafe local to him. He sounded grateful to be getting out of the house. Jessica thought about driving but didn’t want to risk still being over the limit from the night before. The place they were meeting was only a bus ride away and she figured it would give her time to consider how best to approach things.

Paul Keegan was already waiting for her when Jessica arrived. The place they had arranged to meet was his choice, a greasy-spoon establishment just off a main road not too far from his house. Jessica could smell the fat as she walked through the door, instantly reminding her of childhood. She and her parents used to spend two weeks every summer in Blackpool. At the time, the sea front was lined with places like this, dirt-cheap cafes competing to sell the cheapest cup of tea and fighting to get as many people in as possible to play bingo. This was the sort of place that had once been the lifeblood of a city like Manchester but had largely died out in the last few years, replaced by posher, more expensive chain restaurants. There were still a few remaining, mainly on the outskirts where defiant locals would still go for a fry-up and a brew a couple of times a week.

There was a low chatter as Jessica spotted Paul Keegan off to her right, not far from the counter. He had a mug of tea on the table in front of him. She said hello and asked if he wanted anything to eat or a refill but he shook his head to both. Jessica ordered and paid for a cup of tea, although she wasn’t entirely sure it would be of a much better standard than the ones from the machines in the station and then took it back to sit opposite Mr Keegan. ‘Thanks for coming,’ she said.

‘No worries, it’s fine. It’s nice to get away from the house to be honest. We weren’t allowed back for a couple of days and now it doesn’t feel right.’

Jessica didn’t know how to begin to respond to that. It was a horrendous thought to have to return to live in a house where your wife was murdered. He was clearly trying to sound positive but it was obvious he was struggling to cope. She didn’t think going straight in to ask the one question she wanted to would be that tactful.

‘How are you doing?’ she asked.

She knew the answer wouldn’t be terrific but she didn’t want to ask directly about his stepson. Magistrates had refused Scott initial bail, fearing he and the other two who admitted to assaulting Nigel Collins could run. They had all confessed to the crime and it was just a matter of time until it came to court.

‘I don’t really know,’ he said. ‘It’s Steven I feel sorry for the most. He’s had to go back to do his final exams with all this hanging over him. With all the funeral arrangements and everything I’ve not really stopped for the past few days. I even went to see Scott yesterday . . .’

Jessica must have looked surprised because he felt the need to justify what he had said. ‘He’s not a bad kid. He had a bad time when his dad and Mary split up. Don’t get me wrong, I know and he knows that what he did was wrong but . . .’

He didn’t finish the sentence but Jessica knew what he was alluding to. Most people did something stupid when they were younger. That wasn’t to excuse what Scott had done in any way but one stupid immature decision when he was barely a teenager had now cost him any semblance of an adult life. She couldn’t help but be impressed by his stepfather. Paul Keegan had every right to hate a son that wasn’t his own flesh and blood but had indirectly caused the death of his wife. Yet he didn’t; it seemed he had already forgiven him. Jessica was stunned by the man’s compassion.

‘Do you want another?’ she asked, nodding towards his now-empty cup on the table.

‘Yeah, okay.’

‘Anything to eat?’

Paul Keegan shook his head.

Jessica thought he looked as if he could do with a meal but knew she couldn’t force him. She went to the counter and ordered a new mug of tea before returning to the table. When Jessica sat down, he asked her why her team had been removed from the case. She gave the best answer she could, trying to sound professional and remarking that the Serious Crime Division had more training in this type of area now it had essentially become a search for one man. She thought it sounded good, even if she didn’t believe it herself.

‘I just wanted to check one thing with you, if that’s okay?’ Jessica said.

‘No worries.’

‘Do you remember when you told me you’d had a few problems with kids recently, what kind of problems did you mean?’

‘Oh, the usual. Kids out and about at night, just noise and that. Someone ended up putting Super Glue in our locks. We had to climb out the window, plus get someone to change them and get a bunch of new keys cut.’

Jessica struggled to respond. How had she not asked this question before? She went to speak but stumbled over her words. It almost seemed as if time had slowed down before she finally managed to reply. ‘How long ago?’

The penny had clearly dropped for Paul Keegan too. ‘Why, do you think . . . ? Umm, a few months, five or six.’

‘Do you know who fixed the locks?’

‘No, I was at work while Mary was off but um . . .’ He stopped speaking and was clearly mulling something over. ‘Yeah, yeah, I remember. Here’s the thing; we got this flyer through the door literally the day before it happened. It was some kind of special offer thing. Mary always kept the mail and everything so neatly on the table next to the door. It seemed like a piece of good fortune at the time.’