Weekend in Weighton Final Amazon version 12-12-12 (11 page)

I clapped my hands. ‘Earning the big bucks right there.’

‘Stop stalling, Ed. Tell me what’s happening?’

‘You first. What have you heard?’

‘Not much more than the official line.’ She leaned forward, like a co-conspirator. ‘Well-to-do widow murdered in her own home. Fresh-faced private investigator – um, that’s you – finds the body. Police baffled, but likely to charge the new guy anyway.’ She edged even closer and lowered her voice. ‘Unofficially, the rumour is she was being blackmailed – some affair with a married guy. A few well-known names being thrown around. It explains why she hired an investigator. That’s you again.’ She sat back and ran a fingertip around the rim of her glass. ‘How does it all match up?’

I smiled. ‘Not bad for a Northside Comp girl.’

‘So, Mister E G, what
is
occurring?’

‘We’re back to that again.’ I tried to resist a lurid smile. ‘And I thought you just wanted my body?’

‘In your present state, even science would turn that down.’

She picked up the bottle of wine by the bottom and tipped a measure into my glass, carefully twisting the neck at the end of the pour to avoid any spillage. Nice technique. I guessed that, like me, she had a barkeep stint on her CV.

‘Who was she seeing, Ed?’

Right at that moment I imagined the whole bar stopped, took a breath, and inclined an ear in our direction. In reality, the hubbub was unbroken.

I took a super-size sip of wine. Not recommended on the wine course, but needs must.

‘Clegg,’ I said finally.

‘As in Mayor Clegg?’

I nodded slowly without blinking, holding her stare. There was a small “oh” look on her face, but any surprise was otherwise restrained.

‘His was one of the names mentioned,’ she said, ‘but only to ramp up the scandal quotient. No one really thought it could be him.’

I rolled back my palms. ‘Surprise!’

‘Is Clegg responsible for the beating?’ she asked, half-seriously. ‘That would be a bigger surprise. Or was it the police? Or did the police just hold you down while Clegg got some good shots away?’

‘I’m glad you’re finding this so entertaining, but actually neither.’

‘We have a third man?’

‘We do.’

‘I get a clue?’

‘If I said he’s like the illegitimate, unwanted son of
The Sopranos
and
The West Wing
…’

There was a pause as she did the machinations, followed by the light bulb look.

‘Jimmy Cartwright?’ She blinked at me disbelievingly.

I nodded.

Kate let out a long breath. Then she drained her glass.

‘Christ, Ed. Talk about running with the foxes and hunting with the hounds.’ She reached over and gently squeezed my hand. ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’

‘I’m still here. That’s the main thing, hey.’

‘What has he got to do with any of this?’

‘I don’t know. But whatever it is, he doesn’t seem keen on me finding out.’

‘You think Cartwright was behind the blackmail?’

‘Unlikely. Not really his style. And it wouldn’t explain the murder.’

‘Some kind of love triangle?’

‘Possible. But again, I can’t see how it leads to murder.’

She did a rat-a-tat on the table and then narrowed her eyes. ‘You’re the so-called private detective – who’d you think was behind the blackmail? Who do you think killed her? Are they even connected?’

‘Kate, you’re the
so-called
junior solicitor. You think I’ve not already had two days of questions from everyone, even my mum, and maybe I want to talk about something else.’

She fired off a low-key tut. ‘It’s all about you. Typical.’

‘Thought we had some solicitor-client action going on here?’

‘Well, if you want my advice–’

I interrupted. ‘Let me guess – stay out of it.’

She smiled and crossed her legs.

I still couldn’t get over those legs.

‘Don’t take this the wrong way, Ed, but do you think your involvement in this was pre-ordained?’

‘By God, you mean?’

She pulled an unhappy face. ‘I mean, what if you were only hired as part of some nefarious plot all along?’

‘It’s crossed my mind. Finding the body was a set-up fo’sho. That calls everything else into question. But it would mean Porson being in on it from the start.’

‘Not necessarily. Someone else could have been pulling the strings. Or perhaps she was part of it to start with before something went wrong?’

I nodded. ‘It all keeps coming back to the
why
thing.’

The bar was beginning to quieten down, but I kept up my regular periscope routine. Still no signs of any undesirable punters. I finished the wine in my glass and gave her a long stare.

‘There is something else.’

‘What?’

‘The day I found her she’d asked me to meet her at the house. The autopsy proved by the time the call was made she’d already been dead for hours’

It shocked her. ‘That is spooky.’

‘Yeah, real
Scooby Doo
stuff.’

‘Did she call you from her mobile?’

‘No, home phone.’

A beam broke out across her face. ‘The police will already have got hold of her phone records and I bet they’ve got yours.’

‘So?’

‘Well, assuming the calls match, they’ll be able to ascertain your location when you received the one from her.’

I thought about what she’d said but shook my head. ‘Given the time of death, it doesn’t help much. And it would only prove where my phone was, not me.’

‘It’s a start. At the very least the police would have to prove an accomplice. Even you can’t be in two places at once.’ She nodded to herself thoughtfully and bit her lip. ‘Counsel would say you have a strong defence.’

‘The way Weighton police operate I’ll need a bloody Houdini defence.’

‘I know you’re not asking, but if you seriously want my advice, I’d tell you to leave town and keep your head down. Stay away as long as you can. Go somewhere nice.’

‘You coming with?’

She laughed. ‘I’ll visit.’

‘Sure, you will!’

‘When have I ever let you down?’

It was my turn to laugh. Not that I should have found it funny.

‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘I need to stay and liaise with the police on your behalf. There are a few moves I can make.’

‘That I’d pay ninety for.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, really.’ I risked a proper look at her. ‘So what are you doing later?’

‘Writing up case notes. You?’

‘Packing, according to my solicitor.’

She pushed her empty glass to the middle of the table. ‘If you mean it, I’m glad.’

‘I’m not.’ I studied those mesmerising tones in her hair. ‘Wish we’d met again in different circumstances.’

She smiled. ‘Yeah. We could have looked for shooting stars instead.’

I motioned at the sun rays still slanting through the window. ‘I find it’s best picking ‘em out of a dark background.’

Kate reached over and traced her fingers down my cheek. ‘You should get your injuries looked at.’ Her fingertip rested on my now misaligned nose. ‘Come on. I’ll take you to A&E.’

‘Is that like a proper date?’

~

The queue at Weighton A&E was out of the door and almost out of town. I wasn’t considered a priority, so it looked like being a long wait. After an hour or so, Kate spotted a Charge Nurse she knew. It was five star service all the way after that. Luckily, the x-rays showed no broken bones. Only a few stitches and some t.l.c. were required.

By ten we were done and heading back to Kate’s car. We didn’t talk much while we were walking, and we hadn’t talked much about much in the hospital either. Just some innocuous chat and a bit of low-level catch-up. It was no different from when we first used to be together. We could either riff like wildfire or just exchange looks for long periods without saying anything. Either way, we both knew it worked.

We took a shortcut through Loxley Park. Feeling a little woozy after the day’s excitement, blood loss, and subsequent stitching, I sat down next to a towering beech tree. Kate joined me. We were partly back to back and partly leaning against the tree. I’d like to tell you it was the same tree we’d carved our names on all those years ago, but truth to tell I’d never seen the thing before. It was convenient rather than romantic. But you take your moments when they arise. Plain as.

‘How you feeling?’ she asked.

‘Not great. Hospitals have that effect.’

‘You don’t think causality is the other way around?’

I took a deep breath, even though my ribs ached. ‘You may have an interesting take on that.’

Unexpectedly, she grabbed my hand and held it. ‘You haven’t asked, but you must want to know?’

I wasn’t sure I did. ‘Know?’

‘Why I never came back to school?’

‘I expect you had your reasons.’

‘You must have wondered?’

I rolled my head from side to side. ‘Only most days.’

She gripped my hand more tightly. ‘Did you try to find out?’

The memories glided back as I thought about her question. ‘Yeah, I asked around. None of your mates knew anything. The Headmaster kept it together, too, even with the water boarding.’

She turned away and smiled. ‘I don’t think he knew anyway.’

‘No wonder he held out so long. Wish I’d let up sooner.’

She nudged my shoulder with her upper arm. ‘Is it just your stubborn male pride or is it too long ago to matter?’

Twist or stick? I decided to fold. ‘Okay, Kate, why don’t you tell me.’

She didn’t speak for a while. She picked up a twig and fiddled with it, her head down.

‘I think the drum roll just ended,’ I informed her, breaking the silence.

She still didn’t look up, but she began to speak, almost in a whisper. ‘Mum discovered that Dad was cheating on her – with her oldest friend. I’m not sure how she found out.’

She started to doodle in the dry soil with her twig. It was obviously an abstract piece but it had Banksy beat.

Kate resumed her tale. ‘She’d known for a while apparently, but she never let on. She waited until the summer holidays, when she knew Dad would be working away. She packed up as much of our stuff as she could in suitcases, and we left. She rented a tiny terraced house near Bolton and moved us in there. I don’t think she told anyone apart from her parents. She didn’t want him to find us. She made us promise not to contact him or anyone from Weighton.’ Her shoulders sagged. ‘There you have it.’