by Mark Bailey
‘No!’ Joe stared at Milly.
‘John turned up at your flat in Dundee and heard Sim tell Sibby to shut her fucking mouth, or he would shut it for her … permanently.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘Yes, Joe, it was in John’s statement to the police in London.’ Milly watched as Joe started fidgeting. His reaction was predictable.
‘I’ll kill him.’
‘Hang on, mate, let’s think about it before you go flying off the handle.’ Milly held Joe’s hand as he squirmed in his seat. ‘You can’t start World War Three while you’re stuck in here, Joe. Nothing you do will change anything now, except to ruin your chance of early parole. Give me some time, and I’ll try and help you. There are things that aren’t quite right between your going to jail and my sister dying. There are other things, but we’ve run out of time. Can you do that, Joe? Can you play along with your brother? You know you’ve got no choice.’
‘Aye, I suppose so, Milly. I haven’t seen or heard from him in over a month now as it is.’
‘He’s been in Australia. I’m not sure for how long.’ She changed the subject. ‘Don’t mention this meeting or that we’ve talked. Don’t tell Deonaid anything. She’ll tell Sim. Just play along, Joe. This hasn’t played out yet. There’s a story to tell, and only Sim can tell it. If you stir things up, that story will never be told.’
‘Okay, Milly, you have my word. I’ll play along but keep me informed as much as you can … please.’
‘No worries, I’ll get back here as often as I can between work commitments. When I visit, I’ll fly into Edinburgh instead of Dundee. I won’t go to the Russells; it will take too long. Don’t tell John, or anyone else. My visits will be strictly between us.’
‘I promise, Milly.’ The attendant walked towards Joe and Milly as they hugged.
‘Oh, by the way, Joe, I nearly forgot. I sat next to a guy on the plane to Edinburgh from London by the name of Donald Kerford. He said he knew you and to say gidday.’
‘Say hello back if you see him. Tell him it’ll be at least a few of years before we can catch up.’
‘I’ll give him the message if I see him. See you soon, mate.’ They kissed, and Joe was led back to the jail complex.
Chapter 18.
Milly received a message from Dannii around 4:45 p.m. London time as John and Ella were dropping her back at Edinburgh airport. They had spent Wednesday afternoon and Thursday sight-seeing in the south of Scotland.
Milly called Dannii after the Russells had gone. It was late in Australia. Dannii was a night owl.
‘Hi, Milly, the jury came back in tonight. We are expecting a verdict in the morning.’
‘Any ideas?’
‘None, darling. We’ll know soon enough, though. I’ll message you overnight U.K. time, as soon as I know something.’
‘Cool, Dannii. Have you heard from Simone?’
‘Yes,’ she replied in a whisper.
‘Well …?’
‘She hasn’t mentioned anything regarding the newspaper article or Sim Charles.’
‘Alright then. Obviously, you’ll speak with her tomorrow when the verdict is read.’
‘I’ll tell her right now.’
‘Good. Make out like it’s totally exciting news. Tell her my uncle left me twenty-five million dollars in his will. That should give them something to write about in the article due over the weekend … in this Sunday’s paper perhaps?’
‘Oh my God, Milly, oh my God. I can’t believe it, that’s wonderful news,’ said Dannii as she jumped around on the bed. ‘Why this Sunday’s paper?’ she asked, still whispering.
‘Think about it, Dannii; they’re lining me up. I’m tabloid fodder; it will be a great story … the money will be a real teaser; it will be a scoop.’ Milly wondered again if she could get Dannii to do a degree in the bloomin’ obvious. ‘Add twenty-five million big ones to it, and we’ll know for sure where we stand with Simone if it finds its way into the story. I’ve got a few ideas, Dannii, and don’t worry; they won’t say the information came from you, you’re her … well, her friend.’
‘Oh Milly, I can’t believe it, that’s great news,’ yelled Dannii again as she continued jumping around on the bed, totally naked, her phone glued to her ear.
‘Okay, talk to you tomorrow.’
As Milly walked on through the airport, she thought of that truism — appropriate in this case. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.
***
‘What are you getting so excited about at 12:45 in the morning? I bet I know who that was,’ said Simone, taking her bathrobe off and climbing back into bed with Dannii after visiting the bathroom.
‘It was Milly; she’s so excited. Her uncle left her twenty-five million dollars in his will.’ There was a short silence, then Simone looked at her watch as her demeanor changed, completely.
‘That’s great, unbelievable!’ There was a pause as she looked at her watch again.
‘Look, I really need to get going. I’ve got things to do and Cameron’s due back today at lunchtime. I don’t think I’ll get back to sleep in a hurry … not now. Do you mind, Dannii?’
‘No, Simone, not at all. I’ll talk with you soon.’
As Simone gathered her clothes and dressed, Dannii sent Milly another text.
***
Milly’s flight from Edinburgh had landed at Gatwick airport. It was 7:35, Thursday evening May 18. She had left for Australia on April 26, twenty-three days before. She was sick of traveling and sick of flying. As much as she loved international flights and airports, she decided now she hated short domestic flights, especially when she sat next to someone who wouldn’t stop talking — twice in a week.
She looked at her beeping phone as she walked with her bags from baggage collection.
‘On her way home already. Fell for it hook line and sinker.’
We’ll see, thought Milly, as she walked on. She looked up from her phone and could see Greg Stopford waiting for her, as previously arranged.
He looked nervous. He wore a white shirt under a yellow cardigan with dark blue jeans over spit shine shoes; they looked plod issue and betrayed him. As she drew closer, she saw the single red rose. Should be an interesting ride home, she thought.
‘Hi, Greg.’
‘Hi, Milly, how are you? Let me take those bags, will you? We won’t need that,’ he said, pointing at the trolley as he dispensed with it. He was in control now. He shot a surreptitious glance at Milly, looking for signs that she might have used part of her holiday to have those magnificent breasts reduced. All clear there, he thought — I think they’ve got slightly smaller — and his mind was distracted as he bent over to pick up the three bags. It occurred to him that he needed another hand.
‘Are you okay, Greg?’
‘I think so.’ Trying to hold the rose stem firmly in his mouth, was muffling his speech, and was a nuisance now as he dropped two bags. He passed the rose to Milly, drawing to his full height as she stood patiently, staring at the top of his head. He paused, looking up, pecking her lovingly on the cheek, like a father would his daughter. He was in a twist, befuddled and confused, so he shifted to chivalrous mode. He bent down again, grabbing the bags, exposing himself to an impending strain and lower back injury. He was unhinged. It was funny.
‘Why don’t we put the bags back on the trolley, Greg? That’s what it’s for. It will be a lot easier.’ If she had walked towards him carrying the bags, he would have grabbed a trolley. She smiled to herself.
‘I suppose so,’ he whimpered. He felt stupid. He searched for the rose — that’s right, he’d given it to Milly. He slowed down. They made their way out to the car park, pushing the trolley, saving his back as they both contemplated the night ahead. Milly looked forward to a long sleep-in tomorrow morning; she wasn’t working until Monday. She was jet-lagged after three weeks of travel to a foreign place, even if it was home.
Stopford felt better now, as his Y chromosome took over. They walked apa
rt; he didn’t look so short when she was further away. His confidence grew, dropping again as they drew together at the car. Milly was wearing her ‘I Love Billy, Marie Black Smooth’ high heels. She had to bend over to access the trunk. He stood at full height beneath it.
Cheeky buggers got an overnight bag, noted Milly staring into the trunk.
‘I’ve taken the liberty of booking a restaurant. I hope you haven’t eaten.’
‘No, I haven’t, Greg, but I’m planning on an early night. I’m buggered.’
‘That’s no problem,’ replied Stopford. He was planning on an early night too.
They drove from Gatwick, accessing the M25 heading virtually due north for Watford, a drive that would take them over an hour. ‘So where are we eating, Greg?’
‘In Watford, Milly, at Bill’s Watford Restaurant in High Street. We won’t be too late; they don’t close until 10:30.’
‘Where do you live?’
‘I live in a flat on my own in Twickenham.’
‘Doesn’t Rob Windsor live in Twickenham too?’
‘Yes, he does. It’s close to London and the office, so it works well.’ They drove on, and the conversation flowed; he was easy to talk to. They arrived in Watford, at Stopford’s choice of restaurant and they dived in, as it was getting late. They were promptly seated, and both ordered a chicken Caesar salad. Milly ordered an expensive bottle of Sauvignon Blanc only after she insisted on paying. Stopford wasn’t drinking — he was driving.
The conversation turned to the reason Milly had gone to Australia, and inevitably to Sibby.
‘How did the court case go, Milly?’
‘It went well. My mate Dannii King called me this afternoon, and she told me the jury had come back this evening and would bring the verdict down early tomorrow morning U.K. time.’ Milly shifted the conversation immediately; she didn’t want to discuss the court case, it was embarrassing. Stopford knew what was going on, as the U.K. and Australian police had shared information when they looked for Sibby’s identity.
‘I’m starting on a journey of discovery with my sister … and by the way, thanks for sending that information on Kerford to Scotland. I really appreciate it, and so did the Russells.’ Milly touched Stopford’s hand, and he stiffened his shoulders as he poured her another drink.
‘Anything I can do to help; you know me, Milly?’
‘I was wondering about that Kerford bloke. He was a computer salesman, wasn’t he?’
‘I don’t know for sure, but I know he worked in computers.’
‘How exactly did you come across him?’
Stopford repeated the story as their meals arrived and they began eating.
‘What about the girl involved? I assume she was a prostitute or an escort?’
‘That’s right, she was an escort and had worked a few of times at the South Croydon Inn. She was a bit of a specialist girl, to satisfy some sort of fetish Kerford had. She was a tiny little thing … not my type at all.’
‘You actually met her?’
‘Yes, Milly. Her D.N.A. was on the bed sheets along with Kerford’s and your sister’s. You will recall that Dasti didn’t wash the sheets or clean the room from the previous visitor, apparently at Stewart’s request.’
‘Dasti? Didn’t she own the South Croydon Inn?’
‘No, her brother Saif did. Hanni Dasti is his sister, and she was the cleaner there. There’s more to her than meets the eye, Milly, take my word for it.’
‘I do recall that bit with the bed sheets, Greg. Obviously, this girl was on the D.N.A. database.’
‘Correct again, Milly. Her working name is Tina Small … if you saw her, you’d know why. She is only nineteen but has a drug conviction and was easy to locate. She was totally uncooperative, just confirming the sexual encounter with Kerford and that he paid cash. I got the feeling she hates the police.’
They struggled through their food, neither feeling particularly hungry. They were each more interested in what the other had to offer.
Milly told Stopford of her trip to Barlinnie Prison to speak with Joe Charles.
‘I never got to meet or speak with Joe,’ Stopford explained. ‘He was well in jail by the time Sibby came to our attention. That part of it was handled by other investigators at Scotland Yard, but Rob and I had a bit to do with Joe’s father, Gus, and Stewart’s father, Troy.’
‘So, how did you find them?’
‘They were fine. Gus Charles has a record … a couple of assault charges. One thing we never resolved was a phone call from Cailin Stewart to Gus Charles in November 2016 … mid-November, I think. We were never able to get to the bottom of it. Charles claimed he couldn’t recall it, even though the call went for five minutes, and when I asked Cailin Stewart, he told me to mind my own fucking business.’
‘That’s interesting.’
‘As for Troy Stewart, he was just a nice man with a son in jail, who probably won’t live long enough to see him walk free. What a total cock-up Cailin Stewart was.’
‘What did you think of Sim and Stewart?’
‘I wouldn’t want to meet either in a dark alley. Sim Charles was scary. You should ask Beth Stone what she thought of him.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘It was all we could do to stop her going down on her knees in the interview room.’
‘Really? That’s not very nice, Greg. I take it, by your comment, you’re referring to her assuming the position?’ replied Milly, smiling.
‘Yes, Milly. I was watching her while Rob interviewed Sim. She nearly melted in front of us. Then she asked for a toilet break and came back all red and flustered.’
‘They are very good-looking boys. Joe’s even better looking than Sim, in my opinion.’
‘Yes, well, I wouldn’t know … they’re not my type.’
Milly expertly turned the conversation around to the private investigator industry. Stopford was interested, but Milly didn’t take it further — not now. They discussed the Doe Network and D.N.A phenotyping and got lost in criminal jargon and stories. Then she broached the period after Joe had gone to jail.
‘Didn’t you or Rob think Sibby’s behavior strange after Joe was jailed?’
‘Yes, Milly, we both did. The problem was, she left no digital footprint. There was nothing to follow. If I remember correctly, her one and only transaction online was buying a train ticket to London. That was it, for the whole ten months. There were no bank withdrawals, no credit card transactions, no transferring money between accounts.’ Stopford straightened up and leaned forward in his seat. Milly thought for a moment he would take her hand. He hesitated, clutching nervously at something like he had some bad news; then he leaned back slightly, folding his hands in front and continued.
‘Let’s say, for example, she buys a train ticket in Watford for London, so you know where she starts at from a point and time in the day. You follow her around, looking at CCTV footage and other things such as swipe card transactions when she buys coffee or lunch, cash withdrawals at ATMs … that kind of thing. There was none of that, Milly.’
‘Yep. You’re right, Greg.’
‘Second, we had a body and the murderer; the crime was solved. Our resources are definitely finite, you know.’
‘Spot on, Greg. I understand, mate. There’s only so much you can do.’
‘Then there was the nature of those involved, like the Dastis.’
Milly was starting to wish she hadn’t mentioned Sibby’s behavior. She knew all this. ‘They are straight-up liars, and there is Stewart who showed no remorse and never cooperated, not once. Then there was Gus Charles who couldn’t remember a five-minute phone conversation with Cailin Stewart … allegedly … and Sim Charles. I don’t think any of us worked him out.’
‘Point taken, Greg, point taken.’ She finished her bottle of wine, and if she were completely honest, she felt like a night out. She looked at Stopford and not only was he not unattractive, he was quite good looking — a little short, but her high heels didn’t
help. She thought better of it.
‘I’m sorry, Greg, I need to go home. I’m very jet-lagged.’ Stopford knew he was getting the wind-up, but he didn’t look at things that way. Ever the opportunist and an optimist by nature, he had laid the groundwork; he knew it would be a slow process. He dropped Milly back at St Alban’s Road, and as she stepped out of the car, she handed him back the documentation he had posted to Scotland on Kerford.
‘You keep it, Milly. Those records don’t exist officially. They are copies I made from the originals to send you. The originals had to be destroyed under the Police and Criminal Evidence Act, so don’t get caught with them, especially the D.N.A. records — you’ll get me into a lot of trouble.’
‘That’s why I’m giving them to you. I don’t want the responsibility. You take them and do what you like with them.’ She kissed him goodnight like a good friend. Great, we’re on kissing terms now, thought Stopford.
‘Goodnight, Milly. By the way, I’ll get you that phone number you’re after of the escort girl in Croydon and the date of Stewart’s phone call to Gus Charles in November. I’ll send them first thing in the morning. The information is in my diary at the office.’
‘Thanks, Greg, for picking me up. I’ll talk with you later.’
Chapter 19.
Milly slept all night. She had switched her phone to silent, so she wouldn’t hear it beep and ring in the early morning. Dannii sent her a message at 3:30 a.m., or 10:30 a.m. Australian time, and tried to call her.
‘GUILTY.’ Read the message as Milly looked at her phone that morning. Big deal, she thought; she called Dannii.
‘Hi, Milly.’
‘How did Boyd take it?’ asked Milly, yawning. She wanted to be excited but felt deflated.
‘Not very well.’
‘What took the bloody jury so long?’
‘I’ve got no idea, Milly; I’m not a lawyer.’
‘So, what happens now?’
‘He’s remanded in custody for sentencing.’ They continued their conversation, not for long though; Dannii would call Milly when sentence was passed. Milly lay in bed, smiling to herself. Before she’d left on Sunday morning, Dannii had come clean with another ‘there’s something else I haven’t told you’ moment.