Page 70 of Final Betrayal

‘She never tried to better herself. I mean, come on. Stealing from her employer. That was a bit of a cheek. Especially since Amy had got her the job.’

‘But despite their differences, they still got on well?’

‘I suppose they did. Opposites attract, so they say.’

Kirby was sure she’d fluttered her eyelashes at him, but her face was unmoving. He must have imagined it. He pushed his plate away and finished his tea. ‘What did Mr Whyte think of his daughter being friends with the likes of Penny Brogan?’

‘I couldn’t comment on that.’

‘Why not?’

‘You’d have to ask Richard. I don’t want to gossip.’

Reading between the lines, Kirby guessed there was some animosity over Penny. He would have to see if that had any bearing on the murders. But no matter which way he looked at it, he couldn’t imagine the councillor murdering his own daughter.

‘Right, so,’ he said. ‘I better get back to work.’

He paid the bill, ignoring Megan’s pleas to let her go halves.

‘It’s only a few euros,’ he said as he helped her slip her arms into the sleeves of her coat. He could have sworn she let her hand linger on his. No, he didn’t want that. It was too soon.

He couldn’t wait to get back to work.

THIRTY-FIVE

There was no answer when Lottie and Boyd called to Cyril Gill’s home, so they headed to the building site at the courthouse.

He had just pulled onto the site before them. Boyd parked on the footpath outside the hoarding and Lottie jumped out of the car.

‘Mr Gill? Can I have a word?’

He dismissed the man he was talking to and turned to her.

‘Have you come with news about Louise?’

‘Can we talk inside?’ Lottie said.

She watched as the high colour that had flamed his cheeks slipped down his face.

‘No,’ he groaned. ‘Please. Not bad news.’

Lottie took him by the elbow and steered him past the open-mouthed man at the office door.

‘Sit down,’ she said.

He obeyed, and she wheeled a chair across and sat in front of him. Boyd entered and closed the door. The air immediately warmed up and the stench of mud and damp caught at the back of Lottie’s throat. There was no easy way to do this. In fact, she thought, each time became distinctly harder. She hoped she was never on the receiving end of such news about any of her children.

‘Mr Gill, I’m afraid to tell you that we do indeed have very bad news. It?—’

She didn’t get any further before he crumbled, hands clutching at the roots of his hair.

‘No. No. Don’t do this to me. Not my Louise. She’s all I have left.’ Then, as if he’d just remembered he had a wife, ‘This will kill her mother.’

‘I’m sorry—’ Lottie began again.

‘Sorry?’ He raised his head, anger flashing in his eyes. ‘Don’t tell me you’re sorry. I don’t want to hear it. But I do want to know what happened to my princess.’

‘It’s the early stages of our investigation …’

---