Page 81 of Glasshouses

“What about your car?”

“You can pick me up in the morning on your way in.” Vinny had just moved about five streets away from where I lived, which was both convenient and slightly worrisome.

“I’m not your chauffeur.” He pulled his car keys out and jangled them at me. “But because I feel sorry for you being locked in those toilets I’ll do this for you this occasion.”

“You owe me at least five lifts.” I stole his bag of fries with extra salt. “I’ll eat these in the car.”

I was back at Andrew Smith’s house for the second time that day after experiencing what it was like to sit next to someone who once had aspirations to be a Formula One driver yet again.

“Nice house,” Vinny said, appraising the garden and the neat front door.

“It’s stuck at least two decades ago.” I rang the bell. “It’s interesting.”

“That fits with The Holding, though,” Vinny said. “Not wasting for wasting’s sake – why update the furnishings if they’re still usable?”

The door opened, Andrew Smith stepping aside so we could both enter, looking surprised at Vinny being there.

“DS Vinny Leigh.” Vinny showed him his ID. “Thought I’d give DS McAllister a lift.”

“Come through then.” He showed us through to the front room again which looked no different to how it had this morning, even with the dints in the cushions.

I sat down in a different chair this time, Vinny taking the spot I had previously. Andrew Smith stayed standing, hovering near the bay window and glancing out from time to time, as if he was expecting someone else.

“What was it you wanted to tell us about?”

He stayed silent, his jaw clenching, his hand curled into a fist. “I’m not a bad man, detectives. I believe in what we’re doing at The Holding; that’s why I dedicated the best part of my life to it, an ideal where the land is supported by its people, and in turn we help each other. Life is simpler when it’s simple; fewer distractions, less things to go wrong, less things to worry about. And there’s something so satisfying about being able to support yourself, to be truly independent.”

I stayed quiet, waiting, as if this was Smith’s run up before he dived into whatever he was about to tell us.

“Amanda was a big part of The Holding, and I cannot tell you the grief I feel at her death. Micky was also a good friend, a man who believed in what we were doing. He wasn’t around when Roselea caught fire, so he never met Peter or the boys. He was lonely without his daughter being around, so he wanted the community, someone to be bothered if he wasn’t around. I feel terrible that they’re dead.” He sat down on his chair, hands clasped in front of him.

“If you weren’t responsible, why do you feel terrible?” Vinny’s world was often simple.

Andrew Smith looked at him rather than me. “Because Amanda stopped thinking that Lily started the fire. Your colleague told me this morning that Amanda was looking to bring about a wrongful conviction. I obviously already knew that.”

“When did you find out?” I asked, interested in how he was preferred directing his words at Vinny than me.

“A month or two ago. Amanda mentioned Stefan. It was the first time I’d heard his name in a few years; I’d thought everyone had forgotten about him.” He looked at his hands. “I only heard from him when he needed money, but that had stopped.” He looked up. “Stefan found his life’s calling a long time ago and followed his dreams. I was proud; he had a career and was happy. He didn’t need or want me anymore.”

“What was his job?”

“Something in the services. I was never quite sure.”

“Did Amanda think Stefan was involved in the fire?” Vinny asked, leaning forward, elbows on his thighs.

Andrew nodded. “She thought he was responsible, and she wanted to know why the fees I paid to his boarding school increased after the fire. I don’t know how far you’ve got in your investigation yet, Detective,” he looked over at me. “But the fees increase after the fire, quite substantially.”

“You moved him further away.”

“I did. He was getting into trouble at his school already and absconding to hang around here. He was friends with Lily; she would be with him when she could. I needed him out of the way.” He sat back in his chair, relaxed for the first time I’d seen.

“Did you think Stefan was involved in the Goodhew fire?” Heat spread from my feet to the rest of me, pieces clicking.

“He could’ve been. I didn’t know where he was that night, but my car was missing in the morning, and I found it near the church where Lily turned up. Stefan could drive and thought nothing of taking my car when he felt like it. He was a good driver though and managed not to get caught.” He paused. “The police were quite happy to look the other way, but I’ll let you find out why.”

“You let Lily take the blame?”

“You do what you can to protect your children, Detective, even when it’s the wrong thing to do. But he’s done well since, having a good career, keeping out of trouble.” He stood up again and walked back to the window. “I told him that Amanda was looking into Lily’s conviction. I shouldn’t have done that. No one was going to reopen the case; I was pretty sure of that.”