The Wrong Kind of Clouds

by Amanda Fleet

  ‘Fine. Take me off. Officially.’

  ‘What do you mean, officially? What are you playing at?’

  ‘Nothing,’ lied LB. ‘Take me off the case if it’ll make you happier. I’m supposed to be on holiday.’

  ‘It won’t just make me happier, it’ll make the boss a lot happier too.’

  ‘Okay. Fine.’ LB pulled on a jacket and juggled his phone. ‘Whatever you want. If I find anything out, unofficially, I’ll let you know.’

  ‘What are you up to?’

  ‘I have to go. I’ll call you later.’ LB ended the call abruptly, and dialled Summer.

  ‘Hey, Summer, any chance you can make me some toast?’

  ‘Sure. What’s up? Why do you sound so stressed?’

  ‘Turn the radio on. See you in five.’ He snapped his phone shut, slammed the door behind him, and jogged to his car.

  Summer was waiting on the doorstep when he pulled up at the kerb, clutching her bag and a cup of coffee. She climbed in and handed him two slices of toast.

  ‘Glasses?’

  ‘Up late. I normally wear contacts. Thanks for the toast.’

  ‘You always this grumpy in a morning?’

  ‘I’m always this grumpy when I’m late.’

  She laughed. He put the two slices of toast buttered side together, jammed them in his mouth and drove off, driving one-handed until the toast was gone.

  ‘Thanks. Nice bread.’ He looked properly at her. ‘You okay? You look tired.’

  ‘Didn’t sleep much.’

  He reached over and squeezed her hand. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t let you stay.’

  ‘It’s okay. I understand. I shouldn’t have put you in that position.’ She slid her hand away from his. ‘What the hell’s happening with Kate Hampton?’

  ‘I don’t know any more than you. And I’m now off the case.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because it’s easier for Edinburgh? Yesterday afternoon I questioned Kate Hampton and yesterday evening she took an overdose.’

  ‘Are the two connected?’ said Summer, humour ringing through her words.

  ‘Andy Watson thinks so. He rang me just before I rang you. Personally, I wonder whether her actions paint her as guilty as sin. And unofficially, I’m still helping. Hence us still going to see Helen Wright.’

  He concentrated on the road for a few minutes, giving Summer a chance to drink her coffee. She sipped carefully, staring out of the window.

  ‘Why do you think Kate Hampton’s done that? Really?’

  ‘People take overdoses because it’s a cry for help or because they really want to end it all. Since she called Paul, it was either a cry for help or she had second thoughts. My instinct is that it was the former. She’s lost a lot—career, status, respect, husband, lover—and perhaps she thought that making the grand gesture was the right thing to do.’

  ‘Risky. The news said she was serious but stable.’

  ‘They always say that. Any of that coffee left?’

  She passed him the cup and he took a deep drink from it before handing it back.

  ‘You make good coffee as well as good bread.’

  ‘Yeah. I know.’

  He smiled. ‘Okay, let’s go through the questions we talked about last night. What might Helen be able to tell me? Patrick’s financial situation; whether the beating was linked to him owing money… what else?’

  ‘You? Not us? I thought I was being allowed in with you when you went to see Helen?’

  ‘Allowed in. Not allowed to question.’

  ‘Oh.’

  LB looked across. ‘I thought you’d rather be dead than a copper so why so pissed off?’

  ‘I thought I was trusted enough to help. I was obviously mistaken.’

  LB sighed. ‘I’m not having this fight with you again. You might not have any rules governing your life and work, but I do.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘It’s not supposed to mean anything. It means I have to work within boundaries. You’re a freelance photographer with your own business—you don’t have a boss breathing down your neck or threatening to haul you over the coals for not following procedure. I do. Please? It doesn’t mean I don’t want you there. Or that I don’t respect you.’

  She scowled but he knew he’d won the argument.

  ‘Money, beating… pregnancy… what else? Did she know about Kate Hampton? Before the papers broke the news.’

  ‘Indeed. I can’t think of anything else.’ Summer turned to stare out of the window.

  LB sighed. He might have won the argument but he hadn’t won her over. They lapsed into silence. After a few minutes, LB cleared his throat. ‘What’s wrong?’

  Summer snapped out of her reverie. ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Last night… we seemed like we were… close. But today you’re back to being edgy around me. What have I done?’

  ‘Nothing. I just like you better when you’re not a cop.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Oh?’ she mocked.

  ‘Just oh… I am a cop.’

  ‘I know. I wish you weren’t.’

  He looked at the road, letting out a deep breath.

  ‘I mean, I’m glad you’re helping. I just don’t have a great rapport with cops. And I know I’m being unfair. I’m just being honest.’

  He bit his lips, his eyes narrowing. She was as prickly as a porcupine and infuriating with it, but despite all that, he found he wanted something more than mere acquaintance with her. Maybe a lot more.

  ‘Tell me what happened? When you were young?’

  She stared out of the windscreen at the raindrops that were starting to muster against the glass. ‘My parents were distinctive. Are distinctive. Although less so now, I guess. Anyway, they stood out. Didn’t conform. Not enough rules and certainly too few observations of convention.’ Her mouth twisted then she swallowed. ‘They were an easy target. My childhood memories are peppered with policemen bursting into the house, tearing it up, smashing things, spoiling everything. As soon as we straightened the place out, they would be back to tear it apart again. There was no point trying to have nice things because they’d just be damaged. The first time they came, they found a tobacco tin with probably less than half an ounce of dope in it and charged my parents for possession. They were determined Dad was a dealer. They searched, time after time, and when that didn’t uncover anything, they threatened us. And when that didn’t work, they planted evidence.’

  ‘What did they plant?’

  ‘A shoebox with bags in it and a list of alleged customers. The case fell apart when no one on the list could be called for questioning. All the names were made up. But Mum and Dad were labelled for life. They were shunned in the street, my mother was called names, people refused to serve her in shops… we ended up moving. Fresh start where we had no history dragging us down. So I guess they won in the end.’

  LB flicked the indicator on making her finally look across at him. He parked and held her hands, his eyes searching hers.

  ‘Summer, trust me. I hate that kind of policeman as much as you do. What they did to you and your family is unforgivable and I understand why you’re so angry. But it wasn’t me. I would never do that. And if I ever came across a copper who did, I’d blow the whistle on them, get them removed from the force. Please believe me?’

  He reached across and pressed his palm against her cheek. She smiled faintly and he leaned in to kiss her tenderly. She hesitated before kissing him back.

  ‘I know.’ She pulled away, stroking his jaw. ‘But you have a hell of a lot of bad memories to overcome.’

  ‘I get that.’ He kissed her again, then moved back, squeezing her hands. ‘Let me try?’ His eyes locked on hers.

  She stared for a moment, silent. Then she nodded.

  ‘Thank you.’

  He drew her towards him again, his mouth brushing hers. She smiled as he eased back, letting him believe that she might eventually see him as more than just a cop.

&
nbsp; He pulled back on to the road and they drove in silence until they were in Edinburgh.

  Eventually, Wright Interiors loomed into view. The roads around were choc-a-bloc with cars, forcing LB to park several streets away. He grabbed his briefcase, checking the notes from the previous night were easy to access.

  ‘So what’s the plan?’ asked Summer.

  ‘Helen has never seen you? In person?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Okay. Since I’m not officially helping with the case any more and you shouldn’t really be there either, you’ll have to look like a customer but only if you’re sure she won’t recognise you. Not from an advert or that article or anything?’

  Summer hesitated. ‘Possible. Though in the photo of me in the article I’m wearing a hat.’

  LB sucked his teeth and screwed one side of his mouth up. A hat was no disguise for those eyes.

  ‘If there’s ever an issue, we wouldn’t be able to write it off as coincidence since I drove you here.’

  ‘Well, I need to look for wallpaper anyway. It’s not my fault that you want to talk to the woman selling it.’

  Summer pointed out the shop and strode off purposefully. LB smiled ruefully, shook his head and hurried after her.

  He waited a few moments before following her. A bell jangled above his head and a slim, smiling woman approached him. He scanned the room rapidly, matching her smile. Summer was tucked in a corner, sitting on a chaise longue, leafing through books. She flashed him an okay sign from behind Helen’s back.

  ‘Ms Wright? Hello. I’m DS Stewart. We spoke on the phone yesterday.’

  ‘Oh yes, of course. Come in. Um… I have a customer who’s looking at samples at the moment. Perhaps we could talk in the back?’

  LB dropped into step behind Helen, thinking quickly. He glanced at Summer and flashed his phone at her. Hopefully she would realise he was calling her and would keep quiet but follow the conversation with Helen.

  Helen led LB through to a tiny office off the main part of the shop and waved her hand at a chair. Next to the chair was an antique desk with a computer and some neat paperwork on it. A shelf of folders sat above the desk, a modern filing cabinet next to the desk. LB sat, placing his phone face down on the desk to hide the fact it was active and looked up at Helen, waiting for her to sit on the other chair.

  ‘Thank you for agreeing to meet me this morning and I’m sorry it’s under such difficult circumstances.’

  She glanced away. ‘Oh. Yes. Er, coffee?’

  ‘No, thank you. I need to ask you some questions about Patrick Forrester. To get some background information and so on.’

  Helen nodded, looking miserable. LB found his notes and uncapped a pen.

  ‘Could I ask you how long you’ve known Patrick Forrester?’

  ‘I met him at a New Year’s party, but we only started seeing each other a couple of weeks later.’

  LB jotted a note, wondering how Summer would take the confirmation of her suspicion that she and Helen had overlapped in Patrick’s bed.

  ‘You said yesterday that you and he broke up a few weeks ago. Could you tell me when you last saw him?’

  ‘Hang on.’ She pulled a leather organiser towards her and unsnapped the fastener. She leafed through the pages rapidly and looked up.

  ‘We broke up on March thirty-first but I did see him again, on April the sixth.’

  She looked up, and LB saw that her eyes had lost their earlier sparkle and were flinty.

  ‘Ms Wright. I realise this is a difficult and private thing to talk about but we’re investigating Mr Forrester’s disappearance. Could you tell me why you broke up and what happened at your subsequent meeting please?’

  Helen breathed in sharply, turning her head away. ‘I haven’t spoken to Patrick since that day. I had no idea he was missing until you told me.’

  ‘I understand that and I really am sorry to be asking these questions. I need to get as much background information as possible from those who know him.’

  She fiddled with the catch of her organiser and then nodded.

  ‘Er. Well. We broke up for a number of reasons, really. The main one is that I’m pregnant and Patrick was not supportive. He would have preferred me to get rid of the baby.’ She paused again, her focus on the desk.

  ‘And the other reasons?’ prompted LB after a few minutes.

  ‘He owed me money. He’d borrowed from me and couldn’t pay me back. And I realised he was also involved with someone else. But you’ll have seen all that in the papers.’ She jutted her chin at a copy of The Scotsman on her desk.

  ‘Could I ask how you found out that Patrick was involved with Kate Hampton?’

  She ran her fingertip over the corner of her organiser. ‘I saw them together. Coming out of a hotel…’ She ground to a halt.

  ‘They could have been attending a meeting,’ suggested LB. ‘What made you believe there was anything going on?’

  ‘I read his emails. And her emails to him.’

  ‘Was it you who told the papers about Mr Forrester and Mrs Hampton?’

  Helen shifted in her seat. ‘No.’

  She snatched her gaze down to the surface of her desk. LB waited. She looked back up after a few moments.

  ‘No. Not the papers. But I did tell Kate Hampton’s husband,’ she said quietly, looking up at LB’s questioning gaze. ‘I thought that she—Mrs Hampton—was why Patrick was reluctant to support me over the baby. I guess I was wrong about that.’ Her bitterness reverberated around the room.

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Because he still didn’t come back. I’m still pregnant, out of pocket and single. He hasn’t returned my calls since we met up again.’

  ‘And what happened at that meeting?’

  ‘I told him that I knew about him and Kate Hampton and asked him if she was the reason he didn’t want the baby. He said he didn’t want the baby because he couldn’t afford one and that it had never been his plan to become a father. He said that if I’d got myself pregnant, then it was my problem.’

  ‘That’s not a very nice response.’

  ‘No.’

  LB glanced down at his notes. ‘You’ve said that Mr Forrester owed you money and that he said he couldn’t afford a child. Do you know if he’d borrowed money from anyone else?’

  ‘Yes. Not sure of his name. Ken? Kevin? Something like that.’

  ‘Keir Bevan?’ hazarded LB, thinking that if Patrick had crossed Bevan, he should start trawling the Forth now.

  ‘Mmm. That’s the name. I think.’

  LB worked hard at keeping his face neutral. ‘We know that Mr Forrester arrived at work about a month ago looking like he’d been beaten up. Do you know anything about what happened?’

  ‘That was his first warning, as they called it. It was to do with the loan repayments and the fact that Patrick was behind with the money. It’s why I said it didn’t matter about the money he owed me.’ She stared at LB for a moment. ‘Is that why he’s gone missing? Because he owes this guy money?’

  LB shrugged. ‘We don’t know. That’s why we’re making these inquiries. On the message you left on his phone, you said you were sorry for what you had done and that you would have helped him, but with the baby coming, you couldn’t.’

  She nodded cautiously.

  ‘Could you explain what you did and what the help was?’

  She sucked in a deep breath. ‘What I did was to tell Paul Hampton about his wife and Patrick. And I would have tried to help with the loan repayments except I can’t afford to with a baby on the way.’

  ‘Do you know if there’s anyone else who might have had a grudge against Mr Forrester?’

  Helen laughed lightly. ‘I expect there’s quite a queue! I can’t imagine Mr Hampton was all that happy but I don’t know him personally. I doubt Kate Hampton will want to be a bosom pal any more.’ She tailed away, obviously thinking of something else, and smiled. ‘I guess lots of other people like him.’

  ‘Why do people
like him so much? He seems to have treated you quite badly, if you don’t mind me saying.’

  Helen’s lips thinned. ‘Well. I suppose so. But he was a lot of fun to be around. Until I told him about the baby, he was very loving and generous. He made people feel welcome and at ease. I think the timing with the baby wasn’t great for him. He said he felt backed into a corner and that he was struggling with everything when I last saw him.’ Her hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh God. You don’t think he’s done something stupid, do you?’

  ‘There’s absolutely no evidence to suggest that,’ said LB soothingly.

  Helen nodded, her fingers twisting together. LB glanced over his notes.

  ‘Is there anyone else who might have a grudge against Patrick? Other than the Hamptons?’

  She fidgeted for a moment. ‘I guess my brother was quite angry,’ she finally ventured. ‘When I told him about the baby and Patrick’s reaction.’

  LB nodded encouragingly.

  ‘But I can’t imagine he would do anything,’ she said hurriedly.

  ‘Where is your brother at the moment?’

  ‘Er. Skye. He’s doing up a house for a friend.’

  ‘Do you know where he was in the week?’

  She paled. ‘Rob wouldn’t…’

  LB waited.

  ‘Er. On Monday, he was decorating a bathroom in Livingstone—he works for me sometimes. On Tuesday, he went to do a job in Edinburgh, but they hadn’t cleared the space so he left. He said he’d gone over to the west to go fishing with a friend when I spoke to him on Tuesday night, but then he said he’d given up on that and was off to do up Archie’s place in Skye.’

  ‘When did you last see your brother?’

  ‘Tuesday at breakfast. He’s been staying with me. He’s been over in the west since then.’

  ‘With Archie?’

  ‘No. He said Archie was away. He could be staying at Archie’s but he could also still be staying with whoever he went fishing with.’

  ‘Do you know that friend’s name?’

  She shook her head. ‘Sorry. He didn’t say. I’m sure he’s got nothing to do with this though.’

  ‘We just want to be able to eliminate him from our enquiries.’

  She nodded. ‘Yes of course. Did you want me to ring him now?’