Page 26 of Vengeance is Mine

‘I can’t remember the full details. There was something about a woman in America who killed her husband while taking it, I think. You’d need to speak to Dominic’s solicitor about it. She knows all the information. I’ve got her card here somewhere. Would you like it?’

‘Please.’

Anthony struggled out of the comfortable armchair and went over to the sideboard. Walking, even a few steps, seemed to cause him pain.

‘Why would Dominic need a solicitor?’ I asked. That sounded false – I doubted I’d be nominated for a BAFTA anytime soon.

He found the card and handed it to me. Clare Delaney’s name was written in gold lettering on an embossed card. Very classy.

‘I didn’t agree with it. I told her all this, too. Nobody will thank her.’

‘Thank her for what?’

‘She was working on the theory that it wasn’t Dominic who killed Stephanie White, that it was this drug that made him do it. She was putting together a case to sue the makers of the drug and have the murder conviction quashed.’

‘I did read a couple of articles online where Dominic said he didn’t do it. He said it a number of times. Do you think that’s possible?’

‘No,’ he answered, without hesitation. ‘He’s guilty. I know it.’

‘Did he tell you so when you visited him in prison?’

‘I never visited him. Carole did. I didn’t. I couldn’t. I couldn’t believe what he’d done. He disgusted me.’

I felt bad for bringing up buried trauma and emotions. I could see the agony etched on Anthony’s face, the sorrow in his glassy eyes.

‘Dominic’s solicitor.’ I looked at the card. ‘This Clare Delaney. Does she believe in Dominic’s innocence?’

‘I’ve no idea what she believes. If you go to see her, look very closely at her eyes. She doesn’t have pupils – she has pound signs,’ he said, with a chuckle.

I smiled. ‘Should I not have come here this evening? I can tell I’ve upset you.’

‘Don’t be silly. I’m pleased you’ve come. You’re a lovely young woman and obviously a credit to your mother.’

‘That’s kind of you to say, thank you.’

‘Let me give you a piece of advice,’ he began, leaning forwards in his chair. ‘Forget all about who your father is. Don’t let him into your life. I don’t care what he says, and I don’t care what that solicitor says. He killed Stephanie White. I can feel it in here,’ he said, tapping his heart with gnarled fingers. ‘He cut her up, hid her in our attic, and he killed his mother, too. You don’t want someone like that in your life.’

I suddenly felt very cold. It couldn’t have been easy for a man to call his own son a killer. I felt such sympathy for him. I wanted to give him a hug, but having only just met him, it didn’t feel appropriate.

I looked back at the business card. A solicitor wouldn’t get involved in a case like this, if he was guilty, would she?

Chapter Eleven

Every Sunday, I went to Mum’s for lunch. I’d tried making my own Yorkshire puddings, but they just wouldn’t rise. I still have no idea what I’m doing wrong. Hollyhocks was closed on Sundays, and I didn’t work weekends, so we’d get together, and Mum would roast a chicken. It was a relaxed occasion and the conversation would flow freely. We’d always end up having a giggle.

That week I wasn’t looking forward to going. The subject of Dominic’s impending release was bound to come up, and I knew we would both be treading on eggshells, neither of us wanting to speak up first in case we hurt the other.

‘I went to see Anthony Griffiths yesterday,’ I said, within ten minutes of entering the house. I’d have got indigestion if I’d eaten with that knotted feeling inside me.

We’d already spoken about the weather: how cold it was and how my car was struggling in the minus temperatures. I had said how the cooking chicken smelled delicious and asked if Mum needed help peeling the vegetables. Our body language had been stiff and the lingering looks fraught with tension. In the end, I had got fed up with biting my tongue and decided I would just have to deal with any fallout.

‘Who?’ Mum asked, looking genuinely puzzled.

‘Anthony. Dominic’s father.’

‘Oh. I didn’t expect him to still be alive, for some reason.’

‘He’s in his early seventies. Maybe. He could be older. I’m not sure.’

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