face.’
Narey was about to press him further but stopped as she saw Heneghan’s eyes were fixed over her shoulder. She turned her head, following the man’s gaze and saw Dick Johnson standing inside the door of The Waverley. The old gardener was shaking a dusting of snow from his shoulders and staring angrily ahead – at her.
CHAPTER 9
‘I remembered who your father was after you left,’ Johnson snapped at her. ‘I don’t think you were being completely honest with me, young lady.’
Heneghan looked from one of them to the other, clearly confused.
‘Dick? What’s going on? I don’t understand.’
‘What’s she been asking you, Bobby? About finding the girl’s body?’
Heneghan’s confusion turned to anger. ‘Aye. Aye, she has.’
‘I thought so. She was noseying around the hotel doing the same. Making out she doesn’t know anything about it. But she does. Her father was the policeman in charge of the investigation.’
Heneghan’s mouth fell open and his lip trembled again. Narey knew arguing was a waste of time now.
‘I’m sorry, Mr Johnson. I didn’t mean to mislead you but I’m keen to find out anything I can about what happened.’
‘You lied to me,’ the old man complained.
‘Not entirely,’ she excused herself. ‘I just didn’t tell you the whole truth.’
‘Well, you certainly lied to me,’ Heneghan burst in indignantly and loudly, his eyes anxiously jumping from one to the other. ‘You told me you were a counsellor.’
‘No, I didn’t,’ she said gently. ‘You assumed that’s what I meant. I said that I talked to people who had been through traumatic events.’
‘What is that supposed to . . .’
‘How did you know I’d be here, Mr Johnson?’ she interrupted.
The old gardener glared at her, his simmering anger obvious in his voice.
‘When I remembered who your father was, I knew you’d been stringing me along. I had a feeling you might come out here to talk to Bobby. Didn’t expect to see you when I walked in here, right enough. Thought I might get here before you – to warn him.’
‘Why would he need to be warned?’ Narey asked, becoming acutely aware that the raised voices were drawing a crowd, including the two Neanderthal farmers who had stood either side of her at the bar.
‘Bobby’s a good friend of mine,’ Johnson told her. ‘But he’s . . . well, sorry Bob, but you’re a nervous sort these days – not that I blame him. Never been quite right since he found that poor girl, you see. It’s been nineteen years but I don’t think that day’s ever left him. I knew how he’d react if he knew someone was poking around, asking questions after all this time.’
‘I’m only trying to find out what happened, Dick.’
‘Why?’ The old man was shouting now. ‘Why after all this time?’
She ignored his question and asked one of her own.
‘What about you, Dick? Where were you when it happened?’
‘Home in front of the fire because . . . Wait a minute. How dare you ask me that? What are you suggesting?’
‘Nothing. I just need . . .’
Kenny and Dazza were suddenly standing over Narey, glowering down at her.
‘What’s going on here?’ Dazza shouted. ‘Why are you asking all these questions, upsetting folk?’
The man’s ruddy face was red with anger now, having no doubt eventually managed to work out that she had been lying to him too. He was leaning in aggressively towards her, his burly frame just inches from her much slighter figure.
‘Yeah, who are you?’ Kenny joined in, his beery breath in her face. ‘Making out you didn’t know about the murder. Were you taking the piss out of us?’
Narey took a step back, trying to put a bit of distance between herself and the belligerent, half-drunk pair. Suddenly, the space between her and them was filled with another body – Tony.
‘Back up,’ he ordered Kenny and Dazza, his hands up in front of them. ‘What’s going on here?’
‘Get out of the road before I move
Narey was about to press him further but stopped as she saw Heneghan’s eyes were fixed over her shoulder. She turned her head, following the man’s gaze and saw Dick Johnson standing inside the door of The Waverley. The old gardener was shaking a dusting of snow from his shoulders and staring angrily ahead – at her.
CHAPTER 9
‘I remembered who your father was after you left,’ Johnson snapped at her. ‘I don’t think you were being completely honest with me, young lady.’
Heneghan looked from one of them to the other, clearly confused.
‘Dick? What’s going on? I don’t understand.’
‘What’s she been asking you, Bobby? About finding the girl’s body?’
Heneghan’s confusion turned to anger. ‘Aye. Aye, she has.’
‘I thought so. She was noseying around the hotel doing the same. Making out she doesn’t know anything about it. But she does. Her father was the policeman in charge of the investigation.’
Heneghan’s mouth fell open and his lip trembled again. Narey knew arguing was a waste of time now.
‘I’m sorry, Mr Johnson. I didn’t mean to mislead you but I’m keen to find out anything I can about what happened.’
‘You lied to me,’ the old man complained.
‘Not entirely,’ she excused herself. ‘I just didn’t tell you the whole truth.’
‘Well, you certainly lied to me,’ Heneghan burst in indignantly and loudly, his eyes anxiously jumping from one to the other. ‘You told me you were a counsellor.’
‘No, I didn’t,’ she said gently. ‘You assumed that’s what I meant. I said that I talked to people who had been through traumatic events.’
‘What is that supposed to . . .’
‘How did you know I’d be here, Mr Johnson?’ she interrupted.
The old gardener glared at her, his simmering anger obvious in his voice.
‘When I remembered who your father was, I knew you’d been stringing me along. I had a feeling you might come out here to talk to Bobby. Didn’t expect to see you when I walked in here, right enough. Thought I might get here before you – to warn him.’
‘Why would he need to be warned?’ Narey asked, becoming acutely aware that the raised voices were drawing a crowd, including the two Neanderthal farmers who had stood either side of her at the bar.
‘Bobby’s a good friend of mine,’ Johnson told her. ‘But he’s . . . well, sorry Bob, but you’re a nervous sort these days – not that I blame him. Never been quite right since he found that poor girl, you see. It’s been nineteen years but I don’t think that day’s ever left him. I knew how he’d react if he knew someone was poking around, asking questions after all this time.’
‘I’m only trying to find out what happened, Dick.’
‘Why?’ The old man was shouting now. ‘Why after all this time?’
She ignored his question and asked one of her own.
‘What about you, Dick? Where were you when it happened?’
‘Home in front of the fire because . . . Wait a minute. How dare you ask me that? What are you suggesting?’
‘Nothing. I just need . . .’
Kenny and Dazza were suddenly standing over Narey, glowering down at her.
‘What’s going on here?’ Dazza shouted. ‘Why are you asking all these questions, upsetting folk?’
The man’s ruddy face was red with anger now, having no doubt eventually managed to work out that she had been lying to him too. He was leaning in aggressively towards her, his burly frame just inches from her much slighter figure.
‘Yeah, who are you?’ Kenny joined in, his beery breath in her face. ‘Making out you didn’t know about the murder. Were you taking the piss out of us?’
Narey took a step back, trying to put a bit of distance between herself and the belligerent, half-drunk pair. Suddenly, the space between her and them was filled with another body – Tony.
‘Back up,’ he ordered Kenny and Dazza, his hands up in front of them. ‘What’s going on here?’
‘Get out of the road before I move
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