Page 125 of Joker in the Pack

“That’s a key!” I said, leaning forward for a closer look. “But what to? I didn’t find anything that was locked.”

Test-tube donned a fresh pair of latex gloves and carefully sliced open one end. “I’m hoping the letter with it will tell us.”

The bubble-wrap lining had kept the paper reasonably dry, and when Test-tube gently removed the sheet and unfolded it, the flowing script was still legible.

Thank goodness.

Once an assistant had taken photographs with a fancy camera, we all gathered around to read.

Mam,

If you’re reading this letter, it means I’ve gone to prison. I didn’t give it to you before the trial because I knew you’d worry. Tempting fate, you’d say.

I’m sorry I messed up. I shouldn’t have walloped Henry, but if you asked whether I’d do it again, the answer would have to be yes. The bastard deserved it. Anyway, I’ll be away for a bit, so I made sure you’d be set up financially before I went.

A couple of months ago, I did a job, and I saw something I wasn’t supposed to see. That night you gave me the alibi for, remember? A man did something he shouldn’t have, and I found him disposing of the evidence.

I thought about going to the police, but they haven’t been too kind to me lately. Me and Graham hadn’t seen eye to eye since he clipped me around the ear in Mr. Bright’s garden. How old was I then? Nine? Ten? The old git’s never got any friendlier.

So, I gave the man a choice.

I sent him an anonymous letter, telling him what I’d seen and how I’d kept a key piece of evidence, one that could send him to jail in a heartbeat. Either he paid two grand a month, or I’d go to the police with the details.

He chose the first option. I knew he would.

The payments have been coming in steady for a few months now, into an account on your favourite poker site. Easy to clean. The username is “WilyFox” and the password is Grandma’s middle name.

Mam, as long as the money keeps rolling in, take it and keep your mouth shut. We’ll be set up for life, as long as he doesn’t find out who’s behind this.

I’ve written out a statement of what I saw that night and left it with the evidence in a safe deposit box in Metro Bank. The branch opposite the supermarket. Box twenty-two, your lucky number.

If the payments stop, send the contents to the police. He deserves it.

Ronnie.

So near, yet so far. At least we knew what we were looking for and where it was, but we couldn’t get at it until Monday morning.

“Do you think it was Larry who Ronnie saw?” I asked Nye.

“Maybe. He’s been acting like a pervert since his teenage years, and when Ronnie got banged up he’d have been, what, thirty-five? His behaviour would have been well-established by that point.”

“Perhaps Ronnie caught him hiding in someone’s house? Like that time he got caught in the girl’s bathroom?”

“Whatever he did, it won’t be long before we find out. We’ll be first in line when the bank opens.”

“But it’s Sunday tomorrow. That means we’ve got a whole day to wait.”

Nye made a face. “Yeah, and it’d be difficult to get the bank to open up early without a warrant.”

“Could you get one?”

“At the speed the cops move? Sure, for about next Thursday. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you well away from Upper Foxford until Monday.” A mischievous smile replaced his black look. “I’m sure we can find something to keep ourselves occupied.”

Wonderful, but where? I’d been left homeless and everything else-less. I didn’t even have a change of clothes to replace my torn outfit.

“Can we stay here tonight? You said you slept overnight once.”

“My office has glass walls. Unless that sort of thing floats your boat, you might find my apartment more comfortable.”

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