‘Who is it?’
‘It’s me. Terry. Your son. You feeling all right?’
‘I’m tired.’
‘Aren’t you sleeping well?’
‘Not that kind of tired.’
Terry bit his bottom lip and dropped his gaze. He quickly changed the subject. Living in denial of the inevitable wasn’t easy but ignorance really was bliss at times. ‘Dad, do you remember me telling you about Dominic Griffiths being released last year?’
‘Bastard,’ he spat.
‘Dad, he’s dead. Someone killed him.’
Ian turned to look at his son. The sparkle in his eyes was back. ‘Dead? Someone murdered him?’ Terry nodded. Ian clapped his hands together and let out a hearty laugh. ‘Excellent. That’s wonderful news.’
‘Dad!’ Terry admonished.
‘Oh, come on, Terry, the man was a killer. There are very few people who witnessed first-hand what he actually did. I was one of them. I had to pick Stephanie’s body parts out of bin bags. Do you really expect me to mourn that evil bastard?’
‘No. No, I don’t,’ Terry said, taking his father’s hand.
‘Who did it?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Are you investigating?’
‘I am.’
‘Don’t bother.’
‘What?’
‘Leave it. His killer doesn’t need putting away; he deserves an OBE. Tell your boss you’ve hit a dead end. He won’t even care.’
‘Dad, I can’t do that.’ Terry was shocked. He was surprised his father was even suggesting it.
‘Of course you can. He deserved everything he got. I hope he rots in hell. Have you told Harry and…?’ He struggled to find Barbara’s name in his memory. Terry didn’t help him. His dad liked to remember himself rather than be reminded. ‘Barbara. Barbara. Have you told them?’
‘I have.’
‘I bet they were elated, weren’t they?’ he asked, with a grin.
‘No, Dad, they weren’t.’
Ian looked at his son suspiciously. ‘Hmm. I bet when you left, they were dancing around the living room. Oh, Terry, that’s the best news I’ve heard in a long time. Stephanie can finally rest in peace now that fucker’s dead and gone.’
‘There are people mourning him. He’s got a daughter. I told you, remember?’
‘Harry has a daughter?’
When Ian became confused, his eyes changed. It was as if a fog had descended. He was looking at Terry, but he wasn’t seeing him. Terry knew not to push the conversation. If Ian couldn’t remember, it would only make him more agitated. Terry stood up.
‘Where are you going?’ Ian asked.
‘I’m going to check your bathroom, see what you need.’