‘Where would she even get a gun from?’

‘It might not have been hers. Perhaps it was Wayne’s. There could have been an argument, a scuffle and the thing went off accidentally. But I’ll tell you something, she looked white as a sheet when we turned up at the flat this evening.’

‘Lots of people are nervous of the police. It doesn’t necessarily mean anything. And it must have been a difficult day for her with the funeral.’

‘It was more than that. Her body language… She was tense, defensive. It was all wrong. I’ve got a feeling she’s hiding something. I’m sure she is. I just can’t figure out what. And then there’s all this business with Nathan Stone. I told you about him, didn’t I?’

‘The man who works for Terry Street, the one she was supposed to have gone to the dogs with?’

‘That’s him. So she claims they’ve never met, that she’s never heard of him, but one of McCloud’s men saw them talking in the Fox last night. When I pulled her up on it she said he was a complete stranger who came up to her in the pub to express his condolences over Eddie.’

‘But you don’t believe her.’

Gerald shook his head. ‘I’d swear on it. She knows him all right. So why is she lying?’

‘Well, if there was… is something between the two of them she’s hardly going to admit to it in front of her boyfriend.’

‘She could have come down to the station at any time, talked to me in confidence. Better that, surely, than being a suspect in a murder case.’

Nina, who felt that part of her job in these exchanges was to try and put the opposing point of view, chipped in with, ‘True, but why would they even talk to each other in the pub? If they are involved, wouldn’t they be more likely to keep their distance?’

‘Maybe he had something important to tell her, something that couldn’t wait. Maybe he’s not very smart. Or maybe he’s so arrogant that he thinks he can do whatever he likes and get away with it.’ Gerald drummed the fingers of his free hand on the arm of the chair. ‘Cowan Road had a tail on him – that’s how they knew about him seeing Sadie Wise – but he gave them the slip this morning. Disappeared for hours and didn’t turn up on the radar again until the early afternoon.’

‘So he could have been involved in the shooting. What’s Ian McCloud’s take on all this?’

Gerald swirled the whisky and lemon around in the glass and gave a weary sigh as he thought about his former colleague. ‘I think he’s leaning more towards the gangland idea, some kind of feud that’s got out of hand, an eye for an eye and all that. He can’t see any real motive for Sadie Wise wanting her husband dead.’

‘There doesn’t seem to be one – on the surface. I guess you just have to follow your instincts. I mean, McCloud’s never spoken to her, has he? He hasn’t seen what you’ve seen.’

Gerald was quiet for a moment, pondering. ‘Peter Royston’s got his suspicions too. He’s been sniffing around, looking for an angle.’

‘I don’t like that man. He’s a scandalmonger… and a creep.’

‘Doesn’t mean he’s wrong, though. The guy’s got a nose for a good story.’

Nina bent and kissed the top of his head. ‘Well, I’ll leave you to it. I’m going to have a bath and go to bed. You won’t stay up too late, will you?’

‘I won’t. Goodnight, love.’

Gerald finished off the whisky while he slowly perused the contents of the file. He checked out Sharon Gissing’s statement again, trying to read between the lines. She claimed that after the burial Sadie Wise had left the graveyard while Wayne had gone to collect the car. The other two, Kelly and her mother, had decided to walk to the Fox and so she’d stayed and waited for Wayne alone. She had heard the shot as she was walking towards the main gates but presumed it was just a car backfiring.

Gerald flipped over the page and continued reading. After a while, when Wayne still hadn’t come back, Sharon had started heading up the main path. She could just about make out the red Capri at the far end, but was short-sighted and couldn’t tell if Wayne was actually inside or not. It was only when she reached the car that she discovered he’d been shot and was lying in front of the bonnet. She hadn’t wanted to waste time by calling for an ambulance and instead had driven him straight to A&E.

Gerald raised his eyes to the ceiling and gave a snort. It was nonsense, the whole damn lot of it, but impossible to prove. A cock-and-bull story invented to prevent the police from discovering who the real assailant was.

Wayne’s statement naturally tallied with Sharon’s except for the embellishment of his three black muggers. Petra and Kelly Gissing had nothing useful to add; they had left with Eddie’s family and didn’t know anything about what had happened next. The statements from the two plain-clothed officers, sent to keep an eye on proceedings, were next to useless too. They had gone to stand just outside the gates, but were unable to confirm or deny that Sadie Wise had left when she said she had. Within a minute or two a brawl had broken out in the street and by the time it had been broken up the mourners had dispersed.

Gerald frowned. A deliberate ploy or an unfortunate coincidence? The former, he decided. Whoever put a bullet into Wayne Gissing had made sure that the police would be distracted at the time of the assault. And, standing on the street with the sound of the traffic and the shouting of the brawlers, the officers would have been less likely to hear the gunshot.

Leaning his head against the back of the chair, Gerald yawned. His eyes felt sore and scratchy. He knew he should go to bed and try to get some sleep, but too much was going through his mind. He thought about the cut on Sadie Wise’s hand and wondered if it meant anything. He thought about her face, pale and pinched and drawn. It was true to say that bad things happened when she was around.

Gerald moved his head and looked down at the file again. He flicked over a few more pages until he came to a photograph of Nathan Stone. He stared long and hard at the picture. With some villains you could read their personalities in their features – the cocky smile, the hard eyes or the mocking mouth – but this was a harder face to fathom. There was something closed about it, something impenetrable. Nathan Stone was a man who, according to McCloud’s notes, had probably murdered his wife. And Sadie Wise was a girl who might have had her husband killed. Perhaps the two of them had more in common than he’d originally thought.

42

Peter Royston ate the last of his chips while he stared out at the grey stormy sea. He had taken shelter from the rain in one of the covered benches on the front but the wind still whipped around his ankles, causing the bottom of his trousers to flap and a chill to gather in his toes. He checked his watch again and saw that he still had five minutes to wait. The graveyard shift didn’t start until ten.

The promenade was virtually empty. It was too late for the dog walkers and too early for the pubs to be kicking out their customers. The sky above was starless, full of clouds, but there was plenty of light from the streetlamps. He watched the waves smash their way on to the sand, rushing up the shore before quickly retreating again.

At this time on a Friday night he’d usually be in the White Swan, sipping on a pint and keeping his ears pricked for any local gossip. Still, he’d easily make last orders if his bit of business ran smoothly. And even if he didn’t make it, it would be worth the sacrifice if he managed, eventually, to dig the dirt on Sadie Wise.

Royston scratched his chin and grinned. The chances of a scoop in a place like Haverlea were few and far between and he wasn’t about to let this opportunity slip through his fingers. There could be big bucks to be made by selling the story on to the nationals, but that wasn’t the only reason he wanted it so much. For years he’d had to put up with the likes of Frank Hunter and his cronies poking their noses in where they weren’t wanted and dictating what could or couldn’t be printed in the local paper. Middle-class, conservative and influential, they yielded an excess of power and even had his spineless editor in their pocket. Thatcher’s puppets, the whole bloody lot of them. Just for once he’d like to wipe those smug smiles off their faces – and what better way of doing it than exposing Frank Hunter’s future daughter-in-law as a murderer.