Page 90 of Don't Believe A Word

CONNOR: ‘It’s almost certain George Symmonds-Browne will have the answers, so if you know where he is, or how we can get hold of him, please contact us through the usual channels and be assured that any information you can give us will be treated in the strictest confidence.’

CRISTY: ‘That’s it from us for now. Thank you for listening and if you’d like to see the photographs referred to in this episode you’ll find them on our website.’

As the recording of Connor reeling off the closing credits began he faded the sound out and checked the time. ‘If that doesn’t set the cat amongst the pigeons,’ he said, starting to pack up for the day, ‘then I don’t know what will.’

‘We’re going to be flooded with sightings,’ Clover groaned. ‘I’ll lay money that everyone and their granny will know where Symmonds-Browne is. And his posh family aren’t going to like it one bit.’

Not doubting that for a minute, Cristy said, ‘It had to be done, and let’s try to stay optimistic that someone, somewhere, who knows the truth will decide to come forward.’

‘You mean before or after the criminal gang?’ CloveR queried.

As they had no plans for their usual after-party this evening – Meena and Harry were in Italy skiing, Iz was in London doing Iz-things and Connor wanted to hurry home because the baby was unwell – Cristy decided to send CloveR and Jacks off into the night on expenses to make up for no party, while she made a final check of her messages before setting off for home herself.

She guessed only time would tell if they were prepared for what this latest episode might bring down on them. However, the email she found from Frances Rush of the Organized Crime Unit threw a different sort of light on things.

My interpretation of you being told that Symmonds-Browne ‘cannot be a person of interest for you at this time’ is that you’re either being subtly warned off, or there’s a chance he’s in witness protection. I can try to look into it, but it’s notoriously difficult to get info out of UKPPS and that’s presuming he’s in this jurisdiction. If he’s overseas, say Europe or the US, I can’t help you at all. Frances.

After forwarding the message to the rest of the team, Cristy turned to the whiteboard where printouts of the photos of Symmonds-Browne, Lottie and Janina were now posted. She tried to imagine again what they could have been discussing, where they’d been at the time, had gone after, and what had happened in the days and weeks that had followed. Had Symmonds-Browne used the shots to force more money out of Lottie? Why else would he have wanted them taken? How else would they have ended up with her?

Sighing with exasperation, she began stuffing everything into her capacious tote bag and checked her phone as a text arrived.

Aiden and I at Clifton Sausage. Would love you to join us.

In spite of feeling tempted, she’d have to call an Uber to get there and actually she was keen to go home.Maybe next time. Any news from your guy at Interpol?

Strangely no. He’s usually pretty quick at getting back to me. I’ll give it another day and chase him. Aiden’s talking about a pancake-party next week (Shrove Tuesday). Everyone invited after the drop. We can do it at the house if you like.

Cristy stiffened. She hadn’t set foot in their family home since leaving it five years ago and she had no intention of going there again. Those days, those cherished memories of how happy they’d once been were behind them, and she sure as hell wasn’t interested in seeing what changes Marley might have made during the time she’d been there.

A text arrived from Aiden.Dad is chief tosser, which has nothing to do with pancakes and everything to do with what a knob he is for getting everything wrong. Can we do it at yours?

Cristy texted back,Of course. I’ll let everyone know.

Dropping the phone into her bag, she followed her usual route down to the waterfront and turned away from the SSGreat Britaintowards the M Shed. As she went, stepping around puddles and avoiding other late commuters, her mind was so full of Symmonds-Browne and where he might be now that it took her a while to pick up on the sense of being followed. She turned quickly, half-expecting someone to bump into her, or duck into the shadows, but no one was there – or no one who seemed interested in her.

She walked on, alert for the sound of footsteps or the feel of someone closing in. On Prince Street Bridge a couple of joggers overtook her, and a cyclist barely missed her arm as he sped by. She crossed the cobbled street to pass the Mud Dock and headed along The Grove towards her end of the harbourside. She wasn’t sure about being followed now, couldn’t make up her mind if she was freaking herself out, or if someone really did have her in their sights.

At the Riverstation she took a quick decision to go inside rather than risk leading someone right to her door.

Finding the downstairs bar unusually quiet, she accepted the offer of a window booth overlooking the water and ordered herself a gin and tonic. From here she could see who was coming and going, and if anyone suspicious did appear she could always call Matthew and Aiden and ask them to meet her when they’d finished their meal. She might not relish the idea of having to explain herself, but better that than try to deal with some sort of stalker alone.

*

‘I’m not sure I’m liking the sound of this,’ David commented when he rang later to ask what sort of feedback they’d had so far to the latest episode. She was home now, safely inside with doorsand windows locked. The kindly neighbour who’d found her at the Riverstation and walked her back was on standby upstairs if she needed him. ‘Did you actually see anyone?’

‘Without really knowing who I was looking for, other than Symmonds-Browne,’ she replied, ‘it’s hard to answer that – and I don’t actually think he’d be following me in person if he did have anything to do with it. Anyway, it could have all been in my head. It was dark, and I guess I was feeling spooked by the attempted burglary …’

‘Have you contacted the police about that?’

‘There’s nothing they can do, so we’ll just have to be extra careful about who could be watching us, or who gets in touch with possible leads.’ Going to refill her wine glass, she said, ‘It’s been suggested by a reliable source that Symmonds-Browne could be in witness protection. If that’s the case then it’s possible others are looking for him.’

‘And now, thanks to the pod, they’re hoping you might lead them to him?’

‘Maybe, but surely no one thinks I’m hiding him at home or in the office.’

‘No, but I’m thinking you could consider getting yourselves some sort of security,’ he said gravely.

She smiled as she sank down onto the sofa and rested her feet on the coffee table. ‘I survived quite a lot of intimidation when I was working on your story,’ she reminded him. ‘In fact, even you sent me anonymous emails at the beginning.’

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