next time I’m caught speeding.’
‘Forget it, the fines are an even more important source of revenue.’ She placed her empty glass on the window sill. ‘So, do you play poker … Gareth?’
‘I’m an entrepreneur, that’s what entrepreneurs do. To do well, you have to gamble. Business is all about taking risks. As I keep telling my esteemed chairman.’
‘I hear you used to be a racing driver.’
He grinned. ‘Your sources are impeccable, as I’d expect of Cumbria’s finest. I’m afraid I never made Formula One. In my youth I totalled a Porsche and a Ferrari in quick succession and walked away without a scratch, but that kind of luck doesn’t last for ever. Ask Bryan, he never drove so much as an open-top sports car, but when he drove into a tree years back, he nearly died. Can you wonder that we settled for life as businessmen? Not so much fun as racing cars, but you live to draw your pension.’
Purdey arrived bearing drinks. Despite the crush at the bar, she’d managed to get served in record time; no doubt she’d inherited her father’s savoir faire. With her snub nose and long chin, she might not be a raving beauty, but her skin was fresh and her legs slim, and what was that line of Greg Wharf’s – there’s no such thing as an ugly heiress?
Gareth helped himself to the champagne. ‘I think your uncle had better go easy, don’t you?’
‘Cheeky whippersnapper,’ Bryan brayed.
Purdey’s eyes misted over. ‘I can’t believe it, really.’
‘What’s that, sweetheart?’ her father asked.
‘Here we are, out enjoying ourselves, and yet poor Orla …’
Bryan said, ‘Orla’s death is an utter tragedy, but quite frankly, she inherited her mother’s weakness. The poor girl couldn’t hold her liquor, that’s the top and bottom of it.’ He turned to Hannah. ‘Lauren tells me that you’ve heard about this dreadful business?’
Hannah nodded. She’d briefed the ACC about Orla’s calls to the Cold Case Review Team, and her family connection with Madsen’s. It was the last thing Lauren wanted to hear, as a prelude to schmoozing wealthy captains of industry, but she found a crumb of comfort in Gaby Malcolm’s confidence that the IPCC wouldn’t be looking askance at the handling of the phone calls.
‘She rang me two days ago,’ Hannah said. ‘While I was out yesterday, she tried to contact me again.’
Bryan stiffened. ‘Good Lord. Not wanting you to reopen enquiries into her brother’s disappearance, for goodness’ sake?’
‘Had she discussed what happened to Callum with you?’
Before Bryan could reply, a jovial fat man from Commerce in Cumbria slapped him on the back and asked how the hell he was doing. As Bryan disengaged himself, Gareth checked his watch.
‘Come on, we’ve done our duty here. Why don’t we say cheerio to the mayor and then nip round to Mancini’s? It will be quieter, and there will be more oxygen.’
‘Good plan.’ Bryan was in avuncular mode. ‘If you like, Lauren, we could talk some more about whether we can find a way to contribute to these DNA-testing costs.’
Hannah opened her mouth, about to make her excuses, but Lauren was having none of it. ‘We’d love to join you, wouldn’t we, Hannah?’
The ACC smiled at Bryan, and he beamed back at her. Hannah cringed inwardly. Easy to guess what was going through Lauren’s mind.
Don’t get your hopes up, chum. It’s not your body she’s after, it’s your wallet.
CHAPTER FIVE
Mancini’s was tucked away in a courtyard off Kirkland. It called itself a jazz bar, and a lonely saxophone wailed from hidden speakers. The walls were adorned with moody photographs from films noirs, and Gareth Madsen made straight for a table beneath a shot of Lana Turner making eyes at John Garfield in The Postman Always Rings Twice. Hannah recalled watching it on a movie channel late one night with Marc. Realising that the two of them would never see another film together gave her an unexpected pang of
‘Forget it, the fines are an even more important source of revenue.’ She placed her empty glass on the window sill. ‘So, do you play poker … Gareth?’
‘I’m an entrepreneur, that’s what entrepreneurs do. To do well, you have to gamble. Business is all about taking risks. As I keep telling my esteemed chairman.’
‘I hear you used to be a racing driver.’
He grinned. ‘Your sources are impeccable, as I’d expect of Cumbria’s finest. I’m afraid I never made Formula One. In my youth I totalled a Porsche and a Ferrari in quick succession and walked away without a scratch, but that kind of luck doesn’t last for ever. Ask Bryan, he never drove so much as an open-top sports car, but when he drove into a tree years back, he nearly died. Can you wonder that we settled for life as businessmen? Not so much fun as racing cars, but you live to draw your pension.’
Purdey arrived bearing drinks. Despite the crush at the bar, she’d managed to get served in record time; no doubt she’d inherited her father’s savoir faire. With her snub nose and long chin, she might not be a raving beauty, but her skin was fresh and her legs slim, and what was that line of Greg Wharf’s – there’s no such thing as an ugly heiress?
Gareth helped himself to the champagne. ‘I think your uncle had better go easy, don’t you?’
‘Cheeky whippersnapper,’ Bryan brayed.
Purdey’s eyes misted over. ‘I can’t believe it, really.’
‘What’s that, sweetheart?’ her father asked.
‘Here we are, out enjoying ourselves, and yet poor Orla …’
Bryan said, ‘Orla’s death is an utter tragedy, but quite frankly, she inherited her mother’s weakness. The poor girl couldn’t hold her liquor, that’s the top and bottom of it.’ He turned to Hannah. ‘Lauren tells me that you’ve heard about this dreadful business?’
Hannah nodded. She’d briefed the ACC about Orla’s calls to the Cold Case Review Team, and her family connection with Madsen’s. It was the last thing Lauren wanted to hear, as a prelude to schmoozing wealthy captains of industry, but she found a crumb of comfort in Gaby Malcolm’s confidence that the IPCC wouldn’t be looking askance at the handling of the phone calls.
‘She rang me two days ago,’ Hannah said. ‘While I was out yesterday, she tried to contact me again.’
Bryan stiffened. ‘Good Lord. Not wanting you to reopen enquiries into her brother’s disappearance, for goodness’ sake?’
‘Had she discussed what happened to Callum with you?’
Before Bryan could reply, a jovial fat man from Commerce in Cumbria slapped him on the back and asked how the hell he was doing. As Bryan disengaged himself, Gareth checked his watch.
‘Come on, we’ve done our duty here. Why don’t we say cheerio to the mayor and then nip round to Mancini’s? It will be quieter, and there will be more oxygen.’
‘Good plan.’ Bryan was in avuncular mode. ‘If you like, Lauren, we could talk some more about whether we can find a way to contribute to these DNA-testing costs.’
Hannah opened her mouth, about to make her excuses, but Lauren was having none of it. ‘We’d love to join you, wouldn’t we, Hannah?’
The ACC smiled at Bryan, and he beamed back at her. Hannah cringed inwardly. Easy to guess what was going through Lauren’s mind.
Don’t get your hopes up, chum. It’s not your body she’s after, it’s your wallet.
CHAPTER FIVE
Mancini’s was tucked away in a courtyard off Kirkland. It called itself a jazz bar, and a lonely saxophone wailed from hidden speakers. The walls were adorned with moody photographs from films noirs, and Gareth Madsen made straight for a table beneath a shot of Lana Turner making eyes at John Garfield in The Postman Always Rings Twice. Hannah recalled watching it on a movie channel late one night with Marc. Realising that the two of them would never see another film together gave her an unexpected pang of
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