Hit and Run, Maria Frankland [books like harry potter txt] 📗

to an ongoing investigation with Bracken Furniture.”

“But what has all this got to do with my son-in-law’s death?” Dad looks baffled.

“That’s what we’re looking into. I’m sorry to be hazy but we’re at the early stages of an ongoing inquiry.” DI Green puts her cup down. “Thanks for that. We don’t normally get offered a drink when we do home visits.” She straightens herself up. “Looking at accounts is just one line of enquiry we are pursuing.”

“Do you know someone called James Turner?” PC Robinson looks at me. “We believe he’s the JT in your husband’s phone.”

Momentarily, I feel relieved that I don’t have another woman to worry about. That he’s been having anything to do with Bryony is bad enough. “I don’t think so. Why?”

“Could he be a friend of your husband’s?”

“His name rings a bell.” James Turner. James Turner. I turn the name over in my mind. “Why? What’s he got to do with anything?”

“If and when we can tell you more, we will,” DI Green says. “At this stage, we’re just asking you whether you know him.”

Dad stands. “If you will not be clearer with your line of questioning, I suggest you get on with finding out who killed my son-in-law, and in the meantime, leave my daughter to grieve and get on with helping my grandson cope with all he’s going through.”

DI Green and PC Robinson also stand.

“I’m sorry we can’t tell you much.” She gives me a look I don’t like, “but I promise you, we’re following some substantial leads and conducting a thorough CCTV investigation. It‘s only a matter of time before we get to the bottom of what has happened.”

“I’ll see you out.” Dad heads towards the lounge door.

* * *

The story is riding high in the media.

But soon,

it will be yesterday’s news.

Just a couple more days,

and then I’ll be able to breathe again.

Chapter 17

My head is killing me. I open a window, watching as the police car turns in the cul-de-sac and drives away.

“You’ve said nothing about money troubles.” Dad sits back in the chair, spreading the newspaper across his lap.

“We haven’t got money troubles.”

“What’s happened to the money my mother left you?”

“Dad, that was nine years ago.”

“It was over half a million.”

“Money doesn’t go anywhere these days. Besides, that’s why we were investing.”

“Investing in what?”

“Well, that’s what I need to look into. Rob’s had some of my money which he said would be returned ten times over.”

“Do the police know about this?”

“Of course they do. They’ve been through all of Rob’s text messages and bank accounts. I hate all this. All this poking into my private life.”

“If you’ve nothing to hide…”

Dad’s getting on my nerves today. He’s always got to be the voice of bloody reason. “I haven’t.”

“How much did you give him?” He folds the newspaper into quarters.

I sigh. “Thirty grand.” It sounds like a lot of money said out loud.

“With no idea of what Rob was doing with it?”

“Not entirely. There were two things. But you know me, Dad – financial stuff goes over my head.”

“So what did he tell you?” Dad folds his arms and peers over the top of his glasses at me. “Go on. I’m interested.”

“One investment was with a company of property developers. All I know is that it was something to do with a new shopping centre in Harrogate on some very sought after land. They had been granted preliminary planning permission, Rob said it was a go-er.”

“That shouldn’t be too difficult to find out more about.” Dad raises his feet onto the pouffe. He always wears socks with a diamond pattern on. I’ve often bought him novelty socks for Father’s Day or his birthday, but have never seen him wear them. “What about the other one?”

“That one’s more complicated. It’s a Chinese company. Some sort of data miner that diverts to other operations. It’s financial technology.”

“Like a block chain?”

“I don’t know.”

“Can you find out?”

“I’m going to poke about in Rob’s office. You can help me if…” I avert my attention to a crunching sound as Mum’s car arrives on the gravelled driveway.

“Were you expecting her?” Dad appears to pale beneath his beard as he puts his newspaper down.

“No,” I reply. “She made it perfectly clear to me she was staying in Devon.” I stand to let her in, but she is already standing in the lounge doorway. Dad must have left the porch door unlocked after seeing the police out.

“We weren’t expecting to see you Mum,” I try to keep my voice light. I’m relieved that I tidied up on Sunday. She’s one of those people who run their finger along surfaces to check for dust, even in someone else’s house. Although that’s the least of my worries amongst everything else.

“I thought I’d better come back. Help you out.”

“There’s no need,” Dad looks at the floor. “Like I said on the phone, I’m taking care of them. You might as well go back to where you came from.”

“Don’t be like that love,” she replies, without looking at him. “I’m here now, anyway.”

“I’ll leave you to it.” I start towards the door. I can do without being piggy in the middle of their domestics. I make a coffee and carry it through to the conservatory, keen to escape their raised voices. I remember I opened the lounge window and regret it – the whole neighbourhood will hear them. I slide the conservatory door behind me, relieved that it muffles them out. They must sort it for themselves. I haven’t got the energy to get involved. All I know is that if I was in Dad’s shoes …

The conservatory is my favourite room in the house. I turn the fan on and settle on the wicker sofa with my coffee. Everything around me looks familiar and unchanged. But my life has been rocked to its core. It all feels out of control and I’ve no idea what’s going to come next. The cat slinks from under the sofa and lands in my lap.