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‘You’re hoping that happens to Sue.’
‘Yes. And if it does, I’m going to tell her in detail every nasty little thing I did to my girls, so that she will die knowing that it’s all her fault.’
This time Paul gets the reaction he wants. His venom chills me and I feel myself pale. For the first time, I have met the real Paul. I want to ask what he means, but before I can, he turns his backon me and exits the pub, and I watch from the window as his van pulls away.
I should be feeling jubilant, like I’ve got one over on him. But he’s left me cold and on edge. I may have won this round, but until Gwen’s money is sitting in my bank account, our game is far from over.
CHAPTER 45
CONNIE
Where the hell is he? I pick my phone up and scroll through my messages again. Nothing. I check the phone isn’t on silent before going through my missed calls list. Nothing. I even check my emails and junk folder. Nothing. Three days have passed since my confrontation with Paul and I haven’t heard a peep from him.
How long does it take to engage a lawyer and sign everything over to me? More than seventy-two hours, I know that. But if the wheels are in motion, then why hasn’t Paul messaged me with an update? It’s in his best interests to keep me sweet, as I hold all the cards. I guess there’s also the chance he might be calling my bluff to see if I really will go to the police with my evidence. But hoping they’ll side with him over me is a big gamble for him to take. And Paul doesn’t strike me as a gambling man. To pull off what he has takes research, planning and skill. Not risk. I think back to my own scams over the years, and for the most part, I’ve been one step ahead of the people I’m conning. At least to begin with. But Paul has been so many steps ahead of me that he’s often too far in thedistance for me to even focus on. Until now. Perhaps I should send him a photograph of what I have, as a reminder of who’s in charge.
I look around the village pub and check I haven’t missed anything. Walter recommended me to Tracy, the landlady of the Horse & Hatchet, so I have a new job cleaning here each morning. It’s three hours’ work, seven days a week, and I can fit it in around my dog walks and ironing. What I earn here is cash in hand and barely minimum wage and it won’t keep the wolves from the door forever. But until the ownership of Gwen’s estate is resolved with Paul, it’ll put food in my mouth.
I put the mop and bucket in the storeroom and let myself out through the back. I check my phone again as I make my way home, but there’s still nothing from Paul.
A car door opens ahead of me and I flinch. It’s parked by the verge in front of my bungalow, and as the driver steps out, she looks straight at me. It takes me a second before it registers who she is.
‘Hi Connie,’ she says. ‘How are you?’
And I don’t have a good feeling about why she is here.
CHAPTER 46
DS KRISHA AHUJA
I catch sight of Connie in my wing mirror as I’m switching off the engine. A few months have passed since I last saw her. Gwen Wright’s case remains in my memory, as you don’t always get a successful outcome with a story like hers. And when I say ‘successful’, I mean her returning home alive. Not what happened next. Connie clocks me as I leave the car. I wave a static hand at her and her pace slows. I struggle to translate what she’s thinking. It hangs somewhere between surprise and alarm.
‘Hi Connie,’ I say. ‘How are you?’
‘Krisha,’ she says as she looks me up and down with caution. She is wearing an apron and carrying a caddy packed with cleaning products. Her hair is tied up above her head with a red scrunchie. She has lost weight and there are dark rings under her eyes. ‘Keeping busy, I see,’ and I point to the caddy.
‘Needs must,’ she replies and begins to move it behind her as if she’s embarrassed. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I need a word,’ I say. ‘Can we go inside?’
Connie hesitates for a beat too long before replying. ‘Sure.’
I remove my bag from the rear seats, lock the doors and follow her up the path and into her house. When Gwen vanished, the team and I were based at Gwen’s house, so it’s the first time I’ve had reason to be inside Connie’s. I don’t know what I was expecting but it wasn’t this. It’s very small, there’s a smell of stale cigarette smoke and an attempt to disguise it with lavender-scented room freshener. It reminds me of my police college digs.
It’s me who asks if we can sit, and she mutters an apology for not offering sooner. She guides me to a two-seater sofa and keeps her distance in an adjacent armchair. She struggles to settle, crossing and uncrossing her legs.
‘Is there a problem?’ Connie asks as I place my bag by my feet. ‘Is it about Mum? I assume you know that she’s passed?’
‘Yes,’ I reply. ‘And I was sorry to hear that. But let’s start as we mean to go on, shall we? I know that Gwen Wright wasn’t your mother. At least not biologically.’ Connie opens her mouth as if about to protest but thinks better of it. ‘I am a little disappointed you kept that from me when she went missing. Along with your birth name. Would you prefer me to call you Connie or Rachel?’
‘Either is fine,’ she says quietly. ‘And for the record, I loved Gwen like a mum.’
‘I’m not here to question that now. We have recently received a complaint about you regarding something else that we need to discuss.’
‘About me?’ she asks, perplexed. ‘From whom?’
‘Mrs Wright’s husband, Paul Michael.’
‘Paul?’ she says. ‘Heis complaining aboutme?’
