Millie's Game Plan (27 page)

‘Shit!’

I rifled through my handbag, fingers trembling as I looked for Rupert’s business card. I was so
frantic, it took me three attempts to dial the number correctly.

Voicemail.

‘Rupert, it’s Millie Carmichael. Please, please call me.’

Whilst I couldn’t positively identify this as the guy who had grabbed me in the church, I was pretty certain he was the one I’d seen at the wedding – the one who’d given me the evil eye while I was taking pictures. But, where did Marcus fit in? If he was involved, then Sacha and I were living with the enemy. I snatched up the phone and rang her. ‘How long will Marcus be in
Cyprus?’ I asked, hoping to sound nonchalant.

‘He’s gone for a week. Why?’

Paranoia returned. What if I told her and she told Marcus? ‘Oh, I just want to plan a girls’ night out before he comes back, that’s all.’ I said, brightly.

‘Oh. Okay. Where are you?’

Increased paranoia. ‘Still in London. On business.’

‘Till now?’

‘Thought I’d do a bit of late night shopping.’
This was crazy. I was lying to my best friend.

‘Millie…you’ve not had a sneaky rendez-vous with the holy drug baron, have you?’

‘Of course I haven’t. In any case, he wouldn’t dream of breaking the conditions of his bail. He isn’t like that.’

‘Alright, keep your wimple on.’

I managed a laugh. ‘Catch you later.’

After making three disk copies of the photos, I put one into an envelope addressed to me at Mum’s, another to Rupert’s office and the third into my handbag. Finally, I locked up the office and headed to Marshalhampton. There was another hour till the pub closed and, with any
luck, someone might tell me where Nick Ryan lived.

It was ten-thirty and lights were still on in Nick’s house. I rang the doorbell and waited, heart thumping and mouth dry. Nick answered. I hesitated on the doorstep but he smiled and beckoned me in.

‘I’m sorry to come round so late, but I might have something that could help Josh’s case.’

‘I guessed as much. Come into the kitchen. Tea? Coffee?’

‘Coffee
please.’

As Nick filled the kettle, his wife tapped on the door before entering. I recognised her from the village fete. ‘Hello, there,’ she said in a broad
Lancashire accent. ‘I’m Sara. Don’t worry, I’m not going to interfere, just wanted to say hello before I nod off.’

‘I’m sorry. I can come back tomorrow.’

‘Not at all.’ She insisted. ‘Nick’s a night owl anyway. I don’t suppose you’d be here unless it was to help our Josh.’

‘I hope so.’

‘Right. Well, I’ll leave you to it, then.’ She went over to Nick. ‘Night, love,’ she said, putting her face up to kiss him.

‘God bless,’ he said, kissing her briefly and smiling down into her eyes.

‘You too.’

After making coffee, Nick indicated we sit by the breakfast bar but before his backside hit the seat, I was already rattling through my findings and flapping the disk under his nose. He made no comment until I said, ‘This must mean something, mustn’t it?’ I was pressing him for confirmation of Josh’s innocence, which of course, he couldn’t give.

He rubbed his chin with his hand. ‘You’re basing a lot of this on the fact that Charles was lying about visiting the village. Are you sure he wasn’t mistaking it for Romwick or Churchill?’

‘What? When his business partner lives here?’

‘Hmmm.’

‘You think I’m clutching at straws, don’t you?’

‘It’s quite flimsy, that’s all. Especially with the Marshals being pretty important people, round here. What affects Charles Crowe affects Lex Marshal.’

‘Surely, justice is justice – whoever the perpetrator is. And if Charles has a gripe with Josh, it might have nothing to do with Lex. Although…Lex actually told me he thought Josh’s days at the church were numbered. What if they’re hoping to scare the congregation away and discredit Josh so they can turn the church into a wine bar?’

Nick smiled. ‘I think you’ve seen too many episodes of Scooby-doo.’ Put like that, even I could see I was clutching at straws. ‘Believe me, Millie, if Marshal and Crowe are behind all this, there’s no-one keener to see them go down for it than me. Josh is a good man, a very good man but it’s not as simple as that.’

‘Why not?’

He leaned back on his stool and turned his mug round a few times. ‘Everybody around here knows that the Marshals are well connected. They’re very thick with the Chief Constable and the Lord Lieutenant of the county.’

‘So you’re saying
, we can’t make this stick?’

‘I’m saying
, we need more than this to swing the finger of suspicion away from Josh.’

‘What if I say I’m certain I saw this tall, skinny guy at the wedding, and the guy who attacked me was at least six-foot-two?’

‘Was that in your initial statement?’

‘Not exactly…’

He shrugged.

‘Could you at least put his photo into the system and see if his features match up with anyone already on record?’

‘This isn’t
Minority Report
, you know. It’s not as simple as that.’

Did he mean to be so obstructive? Perhaps there was a Marshalhampton conspiracy. All kinds of dodgy things go on under cover of sleepy villages – I’ve seen
Straw Dogs
.

‘Are you saying I shouldn’t report this?’

‘No. You should definitely report it. Just don’t expect results too quickly. There’s a nice, tidy case stacking up against Josh. Building another one, on such nebulous evidence, is much harder to do. That’s all.’ He pulled a resigned face. Then he placed a hand on my arm and steadied me with his gaze. ‘But I wouldn’t go telling anybody else about what you’ve discovered. It gives people a chance to scarper. So keep this under your hat, okay? Don’t tell anyone but the police and the lawyer, understand?’

I nodded. I could keep a secret – especially if it meant saving Josh’s neck. Then Nick leaned back and glanced at the clock above the kitchen door, which I took as my cue to leave.

I drove out of Marshalhampton, past the lane leading to the vicarage, on past the gates to Vonnie’s home. Lex Marshal. Everything I’d felt for him had been physical; lust confused with love because I’d been obsessed with his wealth and position, and if Sacha was right, because I thought all men were like my dad. What I felt for Josh was…was…well, it was trust, wasn’t it? If I was trying to help him, I must trust him. I felt my imagination drifting back to our walk around Poplar Crescent, and the warm, melting feeling began again. No. I mustn’t let this attraction to him confuse things. Yes, he was a good-looking guy with a nice personality but he was a vicar, for heaven’s sake. He spent his weekends at the one place I had avoided for as long as I’d had freedom of choice – church.

My mind replayed moments in the crypt. We’d sung
an a cappella version of
Why Do Fools Fall in Love?
– not with any significance, other than I was boasting about the time the youth group had performed it. I’d begun and he’d joined in, busking a harmony and beating a syncopated rhythm with his hands on the floor. Why
do
fools fall in love, I thought, and is it only fools? Maybe people, like S.S. Ostler and Letch Marshal had it right. Although, on reflection, Ostler was probably in love with himself.

But I was NOT in love with Josh. My mother would have a field day. ‘I told you so,’ she’d crow.
‘God knows best,’ along with a subtext, ‘so does your mother’.

Rupert called me early the following morning, waking me from a Spritzah! Party with Scooby-doo.

‘Don’t worry too much about what your policeman friend says. He’ll be concerned about his position – especially if the Chief Constable is a friend of the Marshals. You need to pass this information on to the police, making it quite clear why you’re surprised to find Charles Crowe in the picture, and I’ll see what pressure I can put on from this side. Leave it with me.’

Detective Gowring was seated opposite me. He slid his notepad aside and peered at the department’s computer screen. I guess not all cops go to sleep in crumpled jackets, like you see on the telly, because he was wearing a surprisingly neat blue blazer, grey trousers, white shirt and red tie, although it didn’t quite hide his middle-aged paunch. I’d given him as much information as I could about Charles Crowe and, if I’m honest, was rather hoping for a smile, a pat on the back or even a ‘Well spotted, Millie’. Instead he narrowed his gimlet eyes in my direction and steepled his fingers. They were chunky fingers and scattered with freckles.

‘Tell me, again, about how you know Josh Warwick.’

What? This was about Charles Crowe and the creepy-looking yob in the picture. But Gowring had picked up his pen and repositioned the notebook, so he was obviously hoping for something tasty. I launched into my story of the cricket match and was just at the smashed ball-in-palm scene when he interjected. ‘How often have you visited his
London
home?’

‘Never.’

‘Do you
know
where he lives in London?’ He was like a Top Gear presenter, putting unnecessary emphasis on random words.

‘No. No idea.’

‘What about his
family
. Have you
met
any of them?’

‘No. I’ve only met Josh half a dozen times, I think.’

‘Really?’

I counted them off on my fingers, ‘First time was at the cricket match; then the following week I went back to show them the photos.’ Just saying it made me blush, I
thought telling the police I was only there to check out the talent might earmark me as Category-A social menace. ‘Next was at Dominic’s divorce party…’

‘Dominic…?’

‘I don’t know his surname. I was a guest of Lex Marshal. They were all at university together.’

He scribbled something illegible on his pad. ‘Next?’

I ran through the village fete, his visit to our Hamlets production, and my mother’s dinner party.

‘And that’s the last time you saw him?’

‘No. He came with me to see a girl from Hamlets.’

‘Why would he do
that
?’

‘Because he knew I was worried about seeing her on my own. She has a bit of a drink problem – she’s only fifteen.’

‘You were worried –
why
?’

I started to explain but the knotty subject of Josh’s drug history was waving from the back of my mind, and distracting me into talking gibberish. I wrapped the subject up quickly. ‘I thought, with his experience of dealing with homeless people, he’d know the right things to say.’

‘To a
fifteen
year old
alcoholic
?’

‘Oh – do you think that sounds unreasonable?’

‘I didn’t say it did. But a young woman who already
had
an addiction might be just the right candidate for someone with drugs to shift –
don’t you think
?’

There was an icy chill up my spine and my palms slipped together as I clasped them on my lap. I’d done nothing wrong so why did I imagine I might soon be feeling the cold slab of a detention cell beneath my backside?

More notes. ‘So, when you were in the
crypt
together, you said in your original statement that Josh had
concussion
…is that an educated guess or do you have
medical training
?’

‘He was lying on the floor, unconscious. It seemed the logical explanation.’

Gowring raised his eyebrows. ‘You were locked up,
together
, for a number of hours…’

‘Sixteen and a half hours.’

‘Very good. How much of that time was he unconscious?’

‘A few minutes at the beginning, and then he dozed off later, for an hour or so.’

‘I imagine you’d have plenty of time to chat during sixteen hours and thirty minutes –
minus
the dozing time. What did you talk about?’

‘All sorts of things.’

He raised his eyebrows, an invitation for me to elucidate.

‘I can’t believe you want chapter and verse of the entire night – is there something specific you want to know?’

‘You tell me. Is there something you think I
ought
to know? Something that
might
be relevant to this case.’

I found myself counting to ten. ‘Well, he never mentioned anything about
Malaga, if that’s what you mean.’

He nodded slowly, but I just knew
he
knew
I
knew about Josh’s history with drugs. Finally, I caved in and began relating all Josh had told me about running away from home, meeting Lucas and getting himself back on track. I was betraying Josh’s confidence and exposing his troubled past to this cold and unsympathetic detective. To my utter embarrassment, I ended up snivelling and running with tears. Gowring didn’t have any tissues. He just looked at me like he’d had a heart bypass...of the emotional variety.

‘Now…and this is
very
important, Miss Carmichael…can you remember any of the details he gave you about the drugs he took, his suppliers, how
long
he was involved?’

‘No. He only told me about it because I asked how he became a vicar.’

Gowring drew a long, noisy breath through his nostrils. ‘So he didn’t mention the squat he stayed in was
notorious
for dealing?’

‘No. Look, I know this is a very serious case but truly, Josh came across as a really genuine person. He didn’t give the slightest impression he was shady or callous. I find it so hard to believe he could have been responsible for the crime. It doesn’t make sense. Why not just fake a burglary, offload the silver and call the police?’

‘And he didn’t mention his aunt was a
drug addict
, did a few years in Holloway?’

I struggled to swallow. ‘No.’

‘Yes. His aunt dealt on a much
smaller
scale. Probably still does, for all I know. So you see, he’s not quite the blue-eyed innocent, is
he
?’

My fingers were clutching at the metal framework beneath the table. If I’d thought the news of Josh’s arrest had been a low point, I hadn’t bargained for the slump of
realisation that hit me with this news. Of course, Rupert wouldn’t have passed on this nugget of sleaze, would he – Josh’s aunt, a drug dealer?

‘And what about you…Millie…do you have any history with drugs?’

‘I smoked cigarettes for a bit, when I was a student. Nothing stronger. I was too terrified of the consequences. My mother would’ve killed me.’ Gowring glanced up. ‘I’m speaking metaphorically. She’s not a murderer.’

He started asking about my childhood, my school, my student days, how long I’d lived around here. Wasn’t it true that my mother was Spanish?

I nearly choked. ‘Yes but she hasn’t been back for years. You surely don’t think I’ve got something to do with it, do you?’ He tapped his pen on the notepad. I could hear the scrape of a door bolt – my cell door, probably. ‘Are you going to arrest me?’ I was amazed by the wobble in my voice.

For the first time, Gowring’s lip twitched in what I can only describe as a sadistic smile. What happened to the police being on our side? ‘Not today, Miss Carmichael. But you must understand
, we will have to continue making
inquiries
. Despite your faith in Josh Warwick, there’s no clear evidence to suggest he was
not
involved. We’re talking about a serious stash of drugs here, and a
lot of money
. Which suggests a whole network of accomplices, and it’s my job to find out who they might be.’

‘But what about the photo?
Charles Crowe lied to me. And the other guy, I swear he was outside the church the day of the attack. What about them?’

‘Don’t
worry, we’ll be looking into that as well. They could all be part of the same cartel. So this could be very
useful
.’ He slid his chair back. ‘Right, you’re free to go – for now.’

He opened the door and it took all my energy to heave myself off the chair and walk. When I stepped out onto the street, the summer sun had disappeared and in its place, near-purple clouds filled the sky. Within moments, great fat drops of rain began to fall, splattering my head and soaking the thirsty pavement.