Page 119 of Worse Than Murder
‘Maybe she didn’t want to notice,’ Boyd says, a dark tone to his voice.
Adele shakes her head. ‘I don’t like people who turn a blind eye to abuse.’
‘Me neither. In my experience, people who turn a blind eye do so for two reasons. One, they don’t want to acknowledge it exists, or two, they’re complicit in the abuse themselves.’
Adele suddenly feels very sick.
The restaurant is quiet. I stand in front of the Gaggia and I’m almost thinking about trying again to make myself a strong Americano when I hear the crunching of gravel outside. I recognise the sound of the whistling brakes and look out of the window to see Sally pulling into her usual space. From this angle, I can just about see that Philip is in the front passenger seat.
‘How are you feeling?’ I ask as I run down the steps to greet him. He looks fine; his normal self, dressed in jeans and a creased long-sleeve polo shirt. His eyes are droopy from lack of sleep and his thinning hair could do with a brush, but apart from that, he looks well.
‘I’m okay,’ he smiles. ‘You?’
‘I’m fine. Are you sure you’re all right?’
‘As I’ve told Sally every two minutes since leaving hospital, I’m absolutely fine.’
‘The ward sister said he was the worst patient she’s seen in her twenty-year career,’ Sally adds.
‘Let me guess: you were complaining about the food?’
Philip rolls his eyes. ‘The toast was yellow and clock-cold. I’ve no idea what animal the meat I was given for lunch yesterday came from, but I don’t think it was meant to be for human consumption.’
I pull a face. ‘Eww.’
‘By the way, I’ve ordered some new cameras for the restaurant. I never really wanted those cages up. They’d look too institutional. These ones are more sophisticated and can be hidden. Nobody will know they’re there.’
‘Shouldn’t you have been resting?’
‘That’s what I was telling him,’ Sally says scathingly, as she takes his overnight bag from the boot.
Philip makes his way up the steps to the restaurant.
‘I’ve ordered them on a rush delivery. I want to find out who is trying to sabotage my restaurant,’ he says.
I hold back from following, and look to Sally. ‘Are you sure he’s all right?’
‘Oh, he’s fine, physically. I’m just worried he’s going to turn this place into Fort Knox. I’m expecting him to start interviewing for armed guards on the door any day now.’
‘Has he thought about a metal detector in the doorway like they have at airports for customers to walk through?’
‘I haven’t lost my hearing, you know,’ Philip calls out. ‘Sarky mares.’
We follow him into the restaurant and find him at the coffee machine.
‘Matilda, would you like a cup?’
‘Silly question,’ Sally mutters as she heads for the stairs to take Philip’s bag up to the bedroom.
‘Have the police said anything useful?’ Philip asks.
I pull out a stool and sit at the bar which runs along the back wall of the restaurant.
‘No. Typical. You know what police are like.’
‘You do realise you are still one of them, when you’ve finished pulling them to bits?’
‘My team excluded, obviously.’ I’m still calling them my team, I notice. ‘Anyway, forensics came out and did their usual thing. No prints were left behind. No footprints or tyre tracks outside. CCTV didn’t reveal anything either.’
