The Stranger, Mark Ayre [microsoft ebook reader .TXT] 📗

"Did she confess to his murder?"

"She said Danny's death had nothing to do with Francis, herself, or anyone connected to them. She claimed not to know what had happened."

"Lying bitch," Eddie hissed. His free fist clenched even tighter, and he pulled his other hand from Jess, who did not admonish him, though worry had crept into her expression. How far would Eddie go to avenge his brother's murder?

"And the money?" pushed Abbie.

"She said if we could pay it back this year, there would be no interest. That was their way of showing they understand we were not to blame for the theft. But they needed to see movement immediately. Leona told us she hoped we would find the money by the end of tomorrow. If not, she expected us to meet with an estate agent by the end of Monday and that there should be a for sale sign up by the end of next week. We would have three months to sell the house and pass anything we made to Francis and Leona."

There were tears in Jess's eyes. Her hand was circling her belly faster than ever. Eddie's face was blank. Just beneath the surface was a tornado of barely repressed rage.

"We only bought this place a year ago," said Jess. "We put everything into it. When we sell, we'll be lucky to get out ten grand. And from next month, they want a grand a month until we've paid them off. Where are we supposed to find a grand a month while raising a child and paying rent and bills? We told Leona it wasn't possible. She told us we would make it possible or find the money Danny lost. Those were our choices. She didn't need to tell us what would happen if we could make neither work."

Jess' voice rose as she spoke. While Eddie hovered on the brink of fury, his wife slid towards despondency. They had told Abbie everything they knew. Even if Abbie suspected there was more to learn, now was not the time to press for answers.

"You don't yet fully trust me," Abbie said. "So this might mean little, but I want to say it anyway. I am going to do everything I can to help you. If I can, I'll find the money Danny lost so you can pay back Francis. If I can't, we'll sort something else."

Abbie prayed neither Jess nor Eddie would ask her to estimate the chance of finding the money. Abbie would try, but if Danny had revealed its location to someone in the bar on the night of his last binge, Abbie could see no way to find out who that might have been. Especially a week later. Much more likely was scenario B—her finding another way to help them. What would that way be? Difficult to say. In short, whatever it needed to be.

Neither Jess nor Eddie asked the dreaded question. Neither of them spoke. Jess surprised Abbie by struggling to her feet, rushing across the room and swinging her arms around Abbie's neck, pulling the woman she had mistrusted in for a tight hug.

The mum-to-be tried to speak but choked on her emotion and sobbed instead. Didn't matter. The hug said everything. Abbie tried to respond but found she could not speak either. Jess' bump pressed against Abbie's abdomen. Abbie could feel kicking, the almost-here-baby, and recalled her own baby's kicks days before it was due, so many years ago. Waves of nausea overtook her, and she had to ease Jess away.

"I'm going to see what I can do," she said, her words rushed, garbled. "I'll be back in touch as soon as I can be. I promise."

Before either of them could say anything else, Abbie had rushed from the house. Eddie caught up to her as she was opening her car door.

"We need to talk," he said.

"Is that not what we just did?"

"No. Later. Please. Jess thinks I'm just saying goodbye, so you have to say now. Will you meet me at midnight, where you found Danny and me fighting. There are things we need to discuss."

"The money?" asked Abbie.

"I think I can find it. I need your help."

Jess appeared at the door. Abbie would have liked to take the time to ask a few more questions, but there was none. If Jess came out, Eddie would clam up. He might change his mind about meeting her later, and if he had valuable information, she needed to hear it.

Dropping into her car, she said, "I'll be there."

Closing the window, she held up a hand to wave at Jess, started the car, and drove away.

Fifteen

Returning to the hotel, Abbie hoped she would find Bobby behind the counter. Not because she wanted to resume with him a conversation that might end in a date—or not just because of that—but because she suspected Glenda would not be happy that Bobby had given her another room for the night after Abbie had left such a mess in her first. If Glenda was already unhappy, how would she react when Abbie revealed she had no key to her room and needed to borrow a spare?

Stepping through the door into the lobby, Abbie expected to see Bobby or no one. If Bobby was absent, Abbie expected to press the bell and wait an agonising minute for Glenda to appear, regard Abbie with disdain and mistrust, then possibly disappear back into her room.

Her expectations were subverted when she found Bobby absent but the desk occupied. Glenda stood there, hands on her hips, looking towards the door as though she had been there for some time, waiting for Abbie to show.

“Afternoon,” Glenda said. Her voice was flat, containing none of the infectious warmth it had last night when Abbie had rung at near enough three in the morning. Clearly, that tone was reserved for people who did not invite strange men and, inadvertently or not, killers up to their room.

“Glenda,” Abbie said. “I wanted to apologise for last night.”

“Is that a