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I must tell you it has been formatted as I’m sure you wouldn’t want to keep the images you witnessed. I just thought I’d ask about that.’ She pointed to his drone. ‘Since this case I have to admit to being fascinated by them.’

‘This is a cheap one. I’d love one of the new models but since mother passed and with losing my job, it would definitely be a luxury I can’t afford.’

‘My condolences, I’m sorry for your loss.’

‘They were kind at work and kept me on but I felt I was a drain and a burden so I quit before I was pushed. Like life really. I was just putting some coloured decorative film on the drone, makes it more personal. You can get all sorts of patterns now and it’s cheaper than a new one.’

Skeeter stood and studied the patterned design on part of the machine. A craft knife sat nearby and she felt the hairs on her arms rise.

‘You’ll certainly see that coming!’

‘They’re so hard to see when they’re against foliage so I thought I’d try this.’ He picked it up. ‘Weighs nothing but will travel at twenty-five miles per hour. Hover at the same spot unaided until the battery fades and then it will return home – to the spot it started from. If only the camera was better.’

She recalled Steve saying the same thing.

‘You could set that to hover and go off for a coffee, and when you returned it would still be sitting there at the height you set?’

‘More or less. Seventeen satellites control it. The newer ones are even better.’

‘Where do you fly, Mr Thomas?’

‘Usually where there are no people. That spot near Southport was wonderful. The countryside is lovely too.’

‘Have you ever flown near Midge Mill Lane?’

There was an immediate sense of tension as Thomas looked away. ‘No, no. Where’s that?’

Skeeter explained where it was but he informed her he had not flown there. He quickly changed the subject.

‘I see you have three dead now. It was in the news, on constantly, but now? It’s as if they never existed. Like mum. At first, she was always in my head. This place was beautiful when she was alive, she lived for the garden. Nature soon takes it back.’ He moved to the window and lifted the net curtain. The carapace of what appeared to be a large spider dropped onto the sill to add to the collection. ‘All that hard work. This was beautiful all year round. You can ask anyone on here. But now she’s gone, it’s gone with her. It’s as if she was never here sometimes and that’s what I find hard. I still have all her things and I’ve not touched her room. Just haven’t got the will or the inclination. Have you ever lost someone close?’

Skeeter knew not to get involved; she was neither a social worker nor did she really care enough to enter into conversation involving personal matters. The neighbour had made her aware of his mental instability and from this brief exchange with him it was clear he was treading a personal tightrope of frustration and guilt. She was not a psychologist but she knew confusion and resentment were often the traits seen in both victims and perpetrators. She had discovered what she had come for but her curiosity demanded more time.

‘You could garden, surely. The fresh air would do you good, and you’d see the benefits of your labour.’

He turned dropping the curtain, disturbing the dead flies and insects yet again, in some cases enshrouding them in yellowing netting. ‘It’s dead time gardening, I told her that.’

‘And what did she say?’ Skeeter laughed as if to make light of the situation. The mood was changing.

His facial expression did not alter.

‘She said I was just like my father.’

‘Was that wrong?’

‘No, he never did much other than watch TV and go to football. She used to say I needed to find the love of a good woman too but …’

‘Do you have a lady friend, Mr Tomas?’

‘Thank you for the micro SD card.’ It was his turn to change the subject.

‘One last thing. Do you own a car?’

‘Used to when mother was alive. Took her on trips, shopping, and I used it for work. It’s unnecessary now.’

As she left and walked down the short drive, she felt again as though she were being watched. Approaching her car, she turned. Now the curtains in both houses had taken on a pulse of their own and twitched almost in harmony.

Craufurd’s inquisitorial expression made him look angry. Red blotches had appeared on parts of his neck. ‘What did you say about Carla and me?’

Taylor laughed out loud. ‘That’s what this is about. That’s why you’re so hot under the collar. I told them what I saw, I told them about seeing you both in the restaurant in Formby. Was that wrong of me?’

‘It’s what else you’ve told them that causes me distress.’

‘I mentioned nothing. That, sir, will remain between the two of us. Let’s say we had a gentleman’s agreement. I wouldn’t tell, if I didn’t pay the rest of the rent. It was as simple as that. Am I in danger of losing my life in a carpark in Liverpool, Craufurd? Did you kill them?’

The transparent beads of sweat mimicked the gloss on the picture, reflecting both natural and artificial light as Gaskell leaned against the car. ‘No,’ he turned to Taylor. ‘I didn’t.’

‘I know that’s the truth. Now, shall we do business? You know your sordid secret’s safe with me. How much?’

Chapter 20

‘Bloody hell. What do they say? Takes all kinds to make a world. He’s definitely one mixed up young man. My mother would say spoiled rotten but …’ Skeeter grumbled as she leaned on the door frame to April’s office.

April looked up from the files she had been studying whilst cross-referencing the facts she had on screen. ‘And who’s that?’ She placed both elbows on the table whilst resting her chin

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