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

and let him pass. I’ve been driving for around twenty minutes and am about a mile from the motorway. I can’t recall getting here. If someone were to ask me, I wouldn’t be able to tell them which way I’ve travelled. It’s almost as if I’ve zoned out. My breathing comes in rapid blasts now. At least the adrenaline rush means I’ll be fully alert for the motorway.

* * *

I’m grateful

for the moments when my mind

escorts me away from reality.

Chapter 36

I park a couple of doors down from the house, my heart hammering. There it is, the modest terrace with an equally modest front garden. The pebbled drive is long enough to squeeze the Klippers Dog Grooming van onto. A battered Volkswagen golf is pulled up onto the kerbside bordering the garden wall. A sign shows the way to the dog grooming shed in the back garden. I take a deep breath and walk towards the front door, hesitating before I knock on the peeling paint. I should not be here but what choice do I have?

“James Turner?” I square up and look him straight in the eye. He’s even more balding and paunchy in the flesh. He’s got stains on his t-shirt and a hole in his sock. No way is this some hot shot businessman. “I’m Fiona Matherson. I’d like a word with you, please.”

“You can’t turn up at my house unannounced.”

“I just did.”

“Well, you can bloody well turn around again.”

“You didn’t really leave me a lot of option Mr Turner.” His name sticks in my throat. “You wouldn’t speak to me on the phone.”

“My dealings were with your husband, not you.” I’m absolutely sick of people looking at me and speaking to me like a piece of shit. Maybe I’d punch him or put his windows through if I wasn’t already on bail.

“You admit to having dealings with him, at least?” I will make him talk, even if I have to squeeze the words out of him through his gonads.

“I’ve already said, I’m not telling you anything.”

“Have the police spoken to you yet?”

“I’ve told them everything they need to know.”

“Where’s our money?”

He looks thoughtful for a few seconds, then his shoulders seem to sag. “OK, Rob and I had an investment opportunity, but we lost out on this one, unfortunately. You win some, you lose some in this game. That’s the way it goes. It’s a gamble. You must know that. There is no money. Sorry.”

“Don’t give me that crap.” I look up at his house and across at their car. “Where are the trappings you emailed Rob? All those pictures of - the house, the Porsche, the wife? The wife I’ve seen through Facebook is nothing like the woman you sent us a photograph of.”

He steps from the door and pulls it behind him. “I’m just a salesman when all’s said and done. I sell a dream. Sometimes it wins. Sometimes it doesn’t.”

“Well, if it hasn’t won, I need proof of that.”

“What you need is to keep your beak well out of my business.”

I swallow. “Look, I’m not here to cause trouble. I just want my money back.”

“It was a transaction between me and Rob. And like I said. It’s gone.”

“Gone where.”

“Gone from your account.” The skin of his lip drags across the top of his teeth in his attempt at a thin smile. “I’ll enjoy it properly, when all this shit has blown over. All you need to know is, like I said, you win some, you lose some.”

“You can’t do that to us – you can’t take our money.”

He lowers his voice. “Look here you thick bitch, I already have. It was your stupid husband who was gullible enough to go along with my suggestions. I didn’t force him to transfer me the money.”

I glance around, hoping to see one or two of his neighbours around. I’m in a strange city at the home of a man who is obviously a nasty piece of work. It’s too late to acknowledge how vulnerable I’ve made myself. “He trusted you. He thought you were friends.”

“More fool him then.” He folds his arms across his fat chest. “There’s no room for conscience in business. It’s every man for himself.”

I want to cry. This shit is real. He’s robbed all our money. “You will not get away with this. I’ll make sure of that. I’ll…”

“What will you do? I don’t like threats, as your husband found out.”

I stare at his pudgy face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Look love. I don’t want you here. I don’t want the police here. Deepest condolences about your husband, and all that, but really, I want leaving alone. By the lot of you.”

“Do you know how much trouble I’m in because of you? I’m getting accused of killing him, fraud, and everything. Do you know how much money he stole from his employers?”

He grins. I want to slap him. “Of course I do. I helped him set it all up. I knew I was on to a winner, didn’t I?”

“What went wrong? What changed?”

“Nothing. I picked out a couple of companies to invest in. I just decided not to invest in them.”

“But they’re blaming me for it all. If you think I’m going down without a fight.”

“You can’t prove a thing.”

“Watch me. You’ve fleeced us out of three hundred and seventy-five grand. I will make sure you get what’s coming to you.” I stare at him, the shock at his cheek, momentarily crowding out my anger. I glance at his dirty fingernails and faded jeans. He’s a far cry from the man in the photographs.

“The police have accepted that I invested in legit companies, I’ve proven it to them, so you’ve no reason to be here.”

“But you didn’t even invest it, did you? You’ve admitted to that. You’ve just put our money in your pocket.” My voice rings out into the quiet garden. His wife can’t possibly be here – I’m sure she’d have been out by now