by Sally Rigby
‘I believe he’ll see for himself what you’re like, without any input from me.’
‘You two sound like an old married couple,’ Rob said.
‘Don’t even go there,’ she said, grimacing.
‘Lunch is on me. Why don’t you two go and get a table and I’ll order? Fish and chips all round?’ Seb said, looking at Rob.
‘Yep, that works for me. There’s a table over there. Come on, Birdie,’ Rob said, pointing towards the back of the pub.
They left Seb at the bar, and sat at the round table Rob had spotted. The pub was typically Victorian with an open fire. It was large, and busy. She wanted to know more about Seb while he wasn’t there and decided to take a chance by asking Rob.
‘So how do you know Seb?’ she asked even though she knew the answer.
‘We trained together, and we’ve been friends ever since.’
‘And what do you think of his background? Weird someone like that being on the force.’
‘A man can’t help his family. He’s a good guy, and he has a special talent, which no doubt you’ve come across.’
She tilted her head to one side. ‘Talent. What talent?’
‘You haven’t seen it in action.’ He gave a belly laugh. ‘You’re in for a treat in that case.’
‘Tell me.’
He did a zip motion across his lips. ‘Not up to me.’
‘Oh, you mean his HSAM,’ she said suddenly remembering.
‘The very thing. You seem rather underwhelmed by it. Maybe you haven’t seen him at his best.’
‘He rattled off some bank transactions without having them in front of him.’
‘That he can do in his sleep. He can be much more impressive when the circumstances demand.’
Interesting.
‘Okay, what else can you tell me? Is he married? Or has he been married? Or does he have a girlfriend …’
‘Birdie, stop. He’s my friend and I’m not going to start blabbing to you. Ask Seb yourself if you want to know anything.’
‘Know what?’
Shit. She hadn’t seen Seb walk over to the table. Oh well, no point in lying.
‘I was pumping Rob for info about you, but he won’t tell.’ She stuck out her bottom lip.
‘Thanks,’ Seb said, grinning at his friend. ‘You’re more than welcome to ask me anything you like. I won’t guarantee to answer though.’
‘I’ll remember that. Except it’s much more fun when you find out from someone else, and you get the true stuff,’ she said, smirking.
‘What do you want to know?’
‘Nothing,’ she said, waving a hand. She couldn’t ask now, without appearing like a nosy parker.
‘Tell me more about the case and Witherspoon’s death,’ Rob said.
‘My cousin Sarah, who I mentioned, isn’t convinced by the suicide verdict and believes that he was forced to write his suicide note. She said he left clues in there that only she would recognise.’
‘If it’s not suicide, it most likely would be murder. What are your views so far?’ Rob asked.
‘I’m not yet convinced by her view. Yes, there are some inconsistencies but they can be explained. We’ll see where the investigation takes us.’
‘Are you enjoying the case?’
‘I am, but that doesn’t mean I want to become a PI if that’s what you’re suggesting.’
‘Why not? I’m sure you’d be really good at it with your memory,’ Rob said.
‘I haven’t yet decided what I’m going to do next.’
‘I suppose it won’t hurt to wait a while longer if you’ve got enough money to keep you going.’
‘I can manage for the time being.’
‘Lucky you have a family who can help out,’ she quipped. He arched an eyebrow. ‘Sorry, that was out of order.’
She kept quiet after that and enjoyed listening to the banter between Seb and Rob during which she got to see a more relaxed and jokey side of him.
After lunch they said their goodbyes and went across London to catch the train. Was he annoyed with her for nosing into his life, and then what she’d said about his family? It was difficult to tell. She didn’t want to bring it up in case he’d forgotten.
‘What’s puzzling me the most is, if Donald was murdered, then what was the motive? Surely it can’t be because he’d stopped making payments to clients because as soon as he was dead, they’d definitely not get their money. It doesn’t make sense,’ Birdie said.
‘I agree, which points to it not being murder and was, in fact, suicide.’
‘But that doesn’t sit right either based on what we know from Sarah. Maybe he borrowed money from loan sharks and couldn’t pay it back so they came after him.’
‘That’s also a possibility, except they don’t usually kill because then they wouldn’t get their money back either. If anything, they might have threatened the family but Sarah hasn’t mentioned it and I’m sure she would have.’
‘What about his children, could they have been involved?’
‘They have twin boys who are both at university. I don’t want to interview them because they’re far too fragile at the moment. You know, despite there being some questions surrounding it, the verdict of suicide might be correct and we’re looking for evidence which doesn’t exist. Sarah could be wrong.’
‘Are you saying you want to end the investigation? Earlier you decided we were going to do some more investigating into Donald and the other investors.’
‘I’m going to think about it overnight. Let’s meet up tomorrow to discuss it,’ Seb said.
‘I’m working during the day. Meet me in town at six forty-five in the Diablos bar. We’ll have a drink and talk it through.’
Chapter 21
15 May
Birdie had aimed to leave work dead on six and she almost made it. Almost. She drove home, quickly showered and changed and went to meet Seb for a drink at Diablos. She’d decided to walk so that she didn’t have to worry about driving, and when she arrived, she glanced at her phone.
Seven-twenty. Not bad for her.
She walked in and scanned the room. Seb was sitting at a table by the wall with a pint in front of him. She stopped at the bar, ordered half a cider and a bag of crisps, and went to join him.
‘Been here long?’ she asked, sitting down and placing her glass on the table. She opened her crisps and took out a handful.
‘You were meant to be here at six forty-five,’ he said, drumming his fingers on the table impatiently.
‘Come on, Seb, I’m only thirty-five minutes late. That’s nothing for me. I made a real effort to get here on time and didn’t even have anything to eat. Hence these.’ She picked up the bag and shook them in front of him. ‘Want one?’
‘I couldn’t deprive you of your food,’ he said, a wry smile tugging at his lips.
‘Wise man, because I’m not a pretty sight when hungry. Did you come to a decision regarding the investigation?’
She hoped he wanted to continue, although it wouldn’t surprise her if he didn’t, based on what they had so far. Although she’d never admit it out loud, she’d really enjoyed the time they’d spent together working. He’d have made an awesome partner. Nothing against Twiggy and the others, who were great, too. But this had been different.
‘So far nothing has persuaded me that the police and coroner’s verdicts were incorrect. Donald might have acted out of character in his suicide note, but that’s not unusual for someone in his frame of mind. We have to accept that if he wasn’t of sound mind, and in my view he wasn’t, then it was suicide. Irrational thinking might have led him to not consider Sarah and what would happen after his death. We know that he wanted to be liked and admired, and that went hand in hand with having a successful business. He was depressed at his failure and couldn’t face the consequences, both socially and economically. He saw ending his life as his only way out. An alternative to incarceration which he most surely would have got.’ Seb picked up his glass and took a
drink.
‘He could have gone bankrupt, and then he wouldn’t have been charged.’
‘He would because the Ponzi scheme was illegal. Most definitely he would have ended up in prison.’
‘Like that chap from America. What’s his name?’
‘You mean Bernie Madoff?’
‘Yeah, that’s the one. So you think that Donald committed suicide to avoid prison. What about the insurance policy?’
‘All I can deduce is that he either forgot about the exclusion period or thought it was twelve months, which many policies are.’
‘That makes sense, especially if he was depressed and not thinking straight. He might have got muddled about it.’
‘Yes, that’s what I believe happened,’ Seb said.
‘Which means Sarah really is left with nothing apart from the massive big house.’
She’d love to visit and take a look around. She’d gone onto Google Maps and checked it out, but it wasn’t the same as seeing it in real life.
‘Yes.’
‘Does this mean you’re going to call it a day on the investigation?’ Her heart sank at the prospect. The last ten days it had given her a sense of purpose which she’d missed.
‘We’ve done all the research we can, bearing in mind it was a stab in the dark. It would have been impossible to interview every single one of his clients, and we’ve spoken to those who stood out. All that’s left now is to inform Sarah of our progress. Or lack of.’
‘Are you going to leave Market Harborough and return to London after you’ve spoken to Sarah?’
‘There’s nothing to keep me here.’
‘Why not stay for a few days and have a holiday? You like it here, don’t you?’
‘It’s not a good time as I have my future to sort out.’
‘Relaxing away from home in a different place might be perfect for making a decision about what to do next,’ she suggested, noting the indecision in his eyes.
‘It’s not practical. I’ve got a flat in London that I need to get back to.’
Chapter 22
15 May
Seb glanced at his phone. It was already nine-thirty. ‘I’d better go. I don’t want to leave Elsa on her own for too much longer.’
‘Are you sure you don’t want one more drink as you’re not driving?’ Birdie asked, holding up her empty glass. ‘Are you?’
‘No, I walked here, but two pints are enough for me. My book’s calling.’
‘I’d hate to keep you from Harlan Coben, although I could think of better things to be doing on a Saturday night, but each to their own. When are you going to see Sarah?’
‘Tomorrow, then I’ll leave for London first thing Monday.’
Her eyes widened. ‘I didn’t think you’d be leaving so soon. Does that mean I won’t see you again? I suppose it does,’ she said before he could answer. ‘Well, it’s been an experience, that’s for sure.’
‘Likewise. Although maybe not in the same way?’
‘What’s that meant to mean?’ she asked, narrowing her eyes.
‘Only joking,’ he said, hoping he hadn’t hurt her feelings. ‘Usually I’m happier working alone, but you’ve added a certain je ne sais quoi to the whole proceedings.’
‘Hmm, if you say so. Anyway, thanks for giving me something to take my mind off my current boring existence at work. It’s a shame we didn’t discover that Donald was murdered though, because that would certainly have livened things up, and I might have been allowed to work on the case.’
He frowned. ‘I’m not sure that livening things up is what’s best for Sarah. At least now she can put it to rest and try to get on with her life.’
‘When you put it that way, you’re right. Sorry, I didn’t think about Sarah.’
‘Shall I walk you back home?’ he offered.
‘No, thanks. I’m staying in town. I’ve arranged to meet my friends in an hour or so. Saturday night is clubbing night.’ She did a dance move in her chair.
‘What are you going to do in the interim, stay here on your own?’
‘Don’t worry about me, there are some people in here I know who won’t mind me hanging out with them for a while.’
Worry about her was one thing he wouldn’t do. He had no doubt of her ability to take care of herself in whatever situation she found herself. He was half tempted to stay a while longer, then remembered Elsa, so reluctantly stood.
‘I’ve enjoyed making your acquaintance,’ he said, holding out his hand.
‘I think we know each other better than that by now,’ she said, jumping up and standing on tiptoe to give him a hug. ‘Next time you’re in Market Harborough, make sure to look me up. You’ve got my number. We’ll have a night out on the town.’ She smirked. ‘Or sit quietly in the pub talking about books, like other old people do.’
‘I keep telling you, late-thirties isn’t old. And ditto to you if you ever find yourself in London.’
He headed for the door, turning before he exited the pub and returning Birdie’s wave. He walked along High Street, humming to himself, until reaching The Square where the church and old grammar school, an historic building which had been built to educate the poor in the 17th century, were situated. The museum had been temporarily closed, which was a shame as he’d have liked to visit before leaving town.
Shuddering as a gust of wind whistled around him, he zipped up his jacket and pushed his hands into his pockets. The stars were non-existent as the dark clouds blanketed the night sky.
He turned onto Church Street, where not a soul was in sight. It was eerily silent and so different from where he lived in London, where twenty-four-seven there were people milling around. As he continued walking, he heard a sound a few yards behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, no one was there. He must have been mistaken.
A little further along, after turning onto King Street, he definitely heard the sound of footsteps. They were from more than one person and were keeping in time with his own.
The hairs rose on the back of his neck and he clenched his fists in anticipation of being accosted.
He spun around.
Nothing.
No one.
Maybe they’d gone into one of the houses. He was being paranoid. Why? This was Market Harborough, not the back streets of London.
Relaxing a little, he turned left onto Doddridge Road, continuing until turning the corner onto Heygate Street.
He started. A steady pounding of footsteps on the pavement got louder and louder. Reverberating. Echoing.
He turned.
A man in dark clothing was hurtling towards him.
His heart pumped hard in his chest and he stepped to the side to get out of the way, but there was someone else there and as he attempted to move his legs were taken out from under him. Pain shot through his shin as he fell to the floor.
He tried to get up but a boot kicked him in the side of his face.
‘Arrgghh’ he groaned, clutching at his head.
He drew his legs up to his chest as a foot connected with his ribs. Again. And again.
Through slits in his eyes, he made out two men both wearing hoodies, one of whom was swinging a baseball bat. He sucked in a breath as it smashed into his head.
Blood splattered everywhere and as it dripped into his mouth, he spat it out onto the ground.
He rolled over on the pavement, and tried shouting for help, but the words stuck in his throat. A dark shadow loomed over him as the baseball bat was lifted and swung towards him, this time landing squarely on his back.
Pain ricocheted through his body.
Was he going to die?
‘That’s enough,’ one of the attackers growled. ‘He’d have got the message to back off by now.’
Message?
‘I’ll grab his wallet.’
Seb lay motionless while one of his attackers found the wallet in his back pocket, and the other one stood a few feet away. Out of the corner of Seb’s eye he spied a tattoo of an eagle on his attacker’
s hand, between his thumb and forefinger.
They ran off and Seb tried to stand but fell back down. His whole body throbbed. All he could do was reach into his jacket pocket for his phone and call 999.
Then he lost consciousness.
Seb’s head pounded as they wheeled him from radiology to accident and emergency and took him back to the cubicle he’d been in since the ambulance had brought him to the hospital.
Every part of him hurt.
‘You’re back,’ the nurse who’d been looking after him said. ‘We’re waiting for a bed to come available, and you’ll be moved to a ward. Sorry, I don’t know how long that will be, Saturday night is always chaotic.’
‘I’ve got to go. My dog’s on her own.’ His voice was hoarse and brittle.
He attempted to sit up and then dropped back down on the bed after only moving a few inches.
‘You’re not going anywhere tonight, so don’t even try. You’ve taken a severe beating and have concussion. We need to keep an eye on you. The doctor will see you once the X-rays have come back and we can see if anything’s broken.’
He didn’t think he could get out of bed, anyway. He’d have to call Birdie, and ask if she could help as Elsa couldn’t be left alone all night.
‘What time is it?’
‘Ten forty-five.’
‘I need to contact someone. Where’s my phone?’
‘We put all your belongings in a bag at the bottom of your bed.’ She opened it, pulled out his phone and handed it to him.
He hit the speed dial for Birdie.
‘Missing me already? What do you want?’ Her cheerful voice echoed in his ear, causing him to flinch.
‘I’m in hospital. I was attacked.’
She gasped. ‘What? Which hospital?’
He glanced at the nurse. ‘Where am I?’
‘Leicester Royal Infirmary.’
‘I heard that,’ Birdie said. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I’m alive.’