Page 17 of A Game of Lies

FIVE

TUESDAY | DS LEO BRADY

When a detective sergeant job came up in Cheshire’s Criminal Investigation Department, Leo jumped ship from Major Crime. He missed the cut-and-thrust of a murder incident room, but he was working with great people, and he no longer had to face the obnoxious DI Crouch every day. Leo’s strategy had been to pretend the detective inspector’s constant jibes didn’t matter – he’d even laughed along when he could bring himself to – but, inside, it had hurt. It was Ffion who had changed everything. ‘Maybe it doesn’t botheryou,’ she’d said. ‘But what about the next poor sod Crouch picks on?’ So Leo had stood up to Crouch, and kept standing up to him until the bigoted jokes had stopped. For a while, the two men had co-existed on Major Crime, but even if Simon Crouch no longer said what he was thinking, Leo had known he was still thinking it. When he saw the job advert for CID, it felt like a fresh start. The clincher was the final line of the ad.

Flexible working requests welcomed.

Twice a week, Leo leaves work early. He picks up Harris from school, together with an overnight bag and whatever instructions Allie has included (the most recent note reminded Leo to wash out Harris’s lunchbox before repacking it for the morning –itsmelled distinctly fishy last time) before heading home for what has become their favourite activity. Leo and Harris are learning to cook.

Leo can manage the basics – he’s not a complete idiot – but he spent married life being shooed out of the kitchen (later, in the divorce, this was reframed asrefuses to contribute to domestic duties) and never progressed much beyond spaghetti bolognese and chilli con carne, which even Leo knows is just mince in different outfits.

Each week, Leo and Harris pick a different country, and Leo downloads a recipe from the internet. They’ve had varying degrees of success (their Andorran stew resulted in an emergency Deliveroo), but both agree they’ve nailed jollof rice.

This week it’s Italy, and, since Leo can already rustle up a spag bol, they’re making pizza. Leo did the base yesterday and left it chilling in the fridge, and now Harris has stretched it into something resembling a circle and has spread tomato sauce in a careful circle. He throws on handfuls of grated cheese, scattering a liberal helping on the floor.

Leo turns up the music. ‘Great job, mate. Ham or chicken?’

‘I’m vegetarian now.’

‘Oh, are you?’ Leo contemplates his son, who wolfed down a roast dinner at the weekend, and whose sandwich crusts from lunch carried traces of tuna. ‘No worries. How about tomato?’

Leo’s phone buzzes, and he checks the screen then lets the call go to voicemail. For the past month, Leo has been seeing a woman he met online. To be more accurate, he has had three dates, and isn’t entirely certain he’d like a fourth. Gayle’s LinkedIn declares her to be aproject manager who gets results, and Gayle is making it increasingly clear what results she’d like from Project Leo Brady.

‘Yes!’ Harris considers the plates of toppings Leo has laid out. ‘And some of those crispy bacon bits.’

‘Gotcha.’ Leo tears off a piece of mozzarella and puts it in his mouth.

‘What else?’ Harris peruses the table.

‘I don’t think there’s room for anything else, mate.’ Leo slides Harris’s creation on to a baking sheet. As he’s putting it in the fridge ready for this evening, his phone rings again. It isn’t Gayle this time, so he hits accept, pressing a finger to his ear to block out the music as he answers. ‘DS Leo Brady.’ He mimes to Harris to turn down the music, only for the boy to turn it up, laughing hysterically at his mischief.

‘Hey. It’s me.’

Leo can barely hear himself think, let alone someone else talk. He grabs the remote and turns off the music, rolling his eyes at Harris in mock admonishment. ‘Sorry, which me? I don’t have this number saved.’

There’s a silence so long, then, that Leo thinks the call’s dropped out. He’s about to hang up when the woman speaks again, and Leo would know that voice anywhere.

‘This is DC Ffion Morgan,’ she says, and her voice is clipped and crisp. ‘North Wales Police.’

‘Ffion! Sorry about that, I was—’

‘This is just a courtesy call. There’s a high-risk MisPer coming your way from the TV showExposure.’ Ffion’s voice is businesslike.

Acourtesy call?Her tone reminds him of Allie, who conducted divorce proceedings as though Leo had leprosy.

‘How are you?’ Leo keeps his voice casual, but his heart is pounding.Ffion. He’d spent far too long hoping she’d call, and far too many evenings hovering over her name in his phone, contemplating sending her another message. He deleted her number in the end, for his own sanity.

‘Helicopter’s up, and search-and-rescue are mobilising now.’

‘It’s good to hear—’

‘Our duty DI will talk to yours to agree jurisdiction.’

‘—from you,’ Leo finishes. But Ffion has gone. Leo leans against the living room door and lets out a breath. His phone buzzes and he snatches at the hope that it’s Ffion, following up her abruptness with an explanation. Maybe her boss was listening? Although when did Ffion ever care about what anyone else thought?

Hey gorgeous! Are you free on Saturday? We could take Harris to Chester Zoo! Xxx

Gayle.

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