Page 77 of The Family Remains

‘You don’t know where she is?’

‘Not a clue. Maybe she’s shopping?’

‘Yes. Maybe she is. Where does she shop?’

‘I have absolutely no clue. Waitrose, probably.’

I narrow my eyes at Dido Rhodes, wondering why she seems to dislike me so. I wonder if maybe she is a racist. But I think it is more likely that she dislikes me because she is scared that I am going to hurt Libby in some way. Which is, of course, entirely possible.

‘Well, please, Miss Rhodes—’

‘Ms.’

‘My apologies. Ms Rhodes. If you hear from her, please will you let her know that DI Owusu and DS Muir would like very much to talk to her at her earliest possible convenience?’

‘What about, exactly? Didn’t she already tell you everything she knows? Which is, of course, precisely nothing.’

I inhale and arrange my face into a pleasant smile. ‘Yes. It appeared on Tuesday that she knew nothing, but further investigations have proved that she may know more than she thought and, in fact, Ms Rhodes – you are a very close friend of Miss Jones, are you not?’

‘Yes, I am.’

‘In which case, if she had somehow made a connection with her long-lost siblings, she would have told you?’

‘I suppose so,’ she replies, her tone more guarded now.

‘Has she ever mentioned to you a person by the name of Phineas? Phineas Thomson?’

I spin the business card on its axis between my thumb and finger while I watch Dido’s response and as I watch I realise quickly that she is about to lie. For such a cool customer she hassome very pronounced tics. Here they show up in the way her gaze finally detaches itself from me and reaches for the ceiling, one shoulder rolls slightly forward to the right, her hips to the left. I see a tiny indent in her cheek as she clenches her teeth before she speaks.

‘No. Never heard of him.’

‘OK. Well, then, thank you anyway.’

I look once more around the dazzling showroom, an unexpected need for shiny new things opening up in me that is stupid and yet quite thrilling. Then I nod my head at Dido Rhodes and we leave.

‘Where to, boss?’

‘To Dido’s house,’ I say.

‘Seriously?’

‘Yes. Of course. Where else would she be?’

‘Do we have an address?’

I flash Donal a smile. ‘We do. It is right here on this business card.’

I give Donal the postcode and we leave.

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