Justice Mirror

by Simon Hall

  ‘I haven’t, don’t worry. What’s the use? There’s not a particle of proof. And Templar won’t say anything. He’s too old fashioned and gallant to cause trouble for you. Besides, he wants his trial to be all about what justice in this country really means. Bringing you into it would only muddle the message. I just wanted to let you know that one person, at least, worked it out.’

  ‘Interesting,’ she mused. ‘Because I know what you did too.’

  And so a conversation which, according to Dan’s plan ended here, diverted rapidly from the script.

  ‘What I did?’ he queried.

  ‘That night in the bar. When I asked you what heterochromia iridis was, to see whether you deserved to spend the night with me. When you went to the toilets to “think about it”, as you said. You looked it up on your mobile, didn’t you?’

  Dan let a couple of seconds pass. ‘When are you going back to London?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I’m only interested.’

  ‘Does it make your life harder, or easier?’

  ‘Just – different.’

  They began saying goodbye but Dan noticed a final scrawl on his notepad.

  ‘Katrina, one more thing?’

  ‘It’s three hours by train, another ten minutes on the tube and five minutes’ walk after that.’

  ‘What is?’

  ‘The distance from Plymouth to my flat.’

  ‘It wasn’t that.’

  ‘Really?’

  Dan closed his eyes. In the darkness of his thoughts all he could see were her eyes, and those unique colours.

  ‘Really,’ he managed.

  ‘What was it then?’

  ‘Why the Ankh? The breath of life sign. Your tattoo?’

  A smile warmed the line. ‘Think about it. You’re not that dense, however much you might sometimes play the fool. Bye bye – for now.’

  ***

  The night was slipping ever onwards, the time coming up for ten o’clock. Rutherford yawned, and Dan did the same.

  ‘Maybe it’s time for bed, eh dog? But I don’t think there’s much hope of sleep yet.’

  He walked over to one of the bookcases and found some paper and a pen.

  ‘Anyway, there’s one more task for tonight. I’ve got to write to Roger Newman. I want to apologise for thinking he killed the Edwards and try to do something to make amends. I was wondering if I could help with the foundation he was talking about setting up in Annette’s memory. Maybe I could give some career talks or mentor young people who might be interested in the media.’

  Dan tried drafting a few lines, but the words wouldn’t come. He paced around the lounge, tidying the odd book and plumping the cushions on the sofa. In the kitchen, he put away a line of plates and tried to scrub a stain from the cooker. The effort resulted in the mark becoming worse.

  Dan headed to the bedroom, thought about changing the sheets, but took no more than a second to decide against it. Such a chore was always one for tomorrow. In the bathroom he wiped the sink and watered the spider plant on the windowsill. Rutherford dutifully followed the path of the domestic odyssey.

  ‘I just can’t settle,’ Dan muttered. ‘But I’ve got an idea. How do you feel about an unusual night out?’

  As ever, Rutherford didn’t argue, which is one of the great benefits of the ever-loyal creatures that are dogs. Dan filled a container with water, took the duvet, a blanket and the whisky bottle and ushered Rutherford through the rain and into the car.

  The streets were quiet. It was a drive of only five minutes to the city centre and the multi-storey car park in the corner of the plaza. Slowly, one by one, Dan drove up the levels until they reached the roof. There were cars on the lower floors but this high it was deserted.

  Dan parked in the corner where Annette and Roger Newman had jumped. He switched off the engine, cuddled Rutherford to him, and together they watched the storm.

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  Acknowledgments

  Thanks to the police, fire and ambulance services, for the privilege of working so closely with such brave public servants, and for the insights into their remarkable lives which has made this book such a pleasure to write.

  To Jess and Niamh, for all their love, support and encouragement, and not minding (or just tolerating) my strange ways.

  And to Devon, my home and my heart, for inspiring, sustaining and nourishing me every day of my blessed residency.

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  Connecting independent readers to independent writers.

  Did you love Justice Mirror? Then you should read When The Killing Starts by RC Bridgestock!

  Crime is a way of life for the Devlin brothers. Groomed at an early age and trained as criminals by local gangsters, the Devlin brothers get their thrill out of creating fear among their victims. They have a macabre pact; not to be arrested or caged.

  Brutality hits the town of Harrowfield when the scourge of the community is found dead, his companion slaughtered. The locals react with praise for the killers.

  The same day firefighters respond to a fire but lose the fight to save Merton Manor. Amongst the debris two bodies are discovered; executed.

  As Dylan struggles to cope with the pressure, armed officers await his judgement call.

  Can he remain professional or will he release his anger?

  Read more at RC Bridgestock’s site.