‘No, nothing like that. It’s just for me.’ As Luke spoke the words, he hoped against hope that they would turn out to be true. That Gerry would send back the right answer, that he could forget all about what Eric had told him when under the influence, and that he could go on to achieve worldwide adoration with Midas, or whatever new name Eric wanted, with Eric behind him all the way.

  ‘Then, sure. No problem,’ Gerry said.

  Luke ended the call and then searched, online, for the photo which had accompanied the article on page 7 of today’s Times newspaper, about Elizabeth Sullivan’s murder. Surprisingly, given his secular upbringing, he found himself whispering a prayer to himself as he located the image and forwarded it on to Gerry, for confirmation of his worst fears.

  37

  Tom was seated at his desk, laptop open, when David entered, fresh from rugby practice, his cheeks flushed, his hair tangled, his legs coated in mud. He grabbed his towel from behind the door and then stopped and closed the door behind him.

  ‘Hey mate. What’s up?’

  No reply.

  ‘Mr Jenkins said you might stay out with your aunt, but I’m pleased you’re back.’

  Still no reply.

  ‘And he said I could come with you tomorrow, if you like. You know I won’t say anything to anyone.’

  David sat down on the edge of Tom’s bed in his dirty shorts. This usually provoked a ferocious response, but today, nothing. Then Tom began to speak.

  ‘They say the dead can’t hurt you. Did you know that?’ he began.

  ‘Yeah, I suppose so,’ David replied. ‘Is it the trial? I was thinking. You don’t have to go. Mr Jenkins could go and let you know what’s said, or your aunt Eve. If it’s too much.’

  ‘I’m not talking about the trial,’ Tom said.

  ‘Oh.’

  Tom touched his keyboard and his screen flashed into life.

  ‘Read this,’ he said, his voice trembling around the edges.

  David stood up, leaned over Tom’s shoulder and read the message to himself, his lips moving as they travelled over and deciphered the words:

  ‘Hey Sully. When we made you the offer to join our team, we didn’t know about your family background. We’ve now been informed that your late mother, Dr Elizabeth Sullivan, was the author of various publications critical of the Esports industry and, in particular, of manufacturers of online games. In the circumstances, we hope you’ll understand if we withdraw the offer to join us. We have to think about the team as a whole and how people will fit in. You are clearly talented, so we’re sure you will find a place somewhere else. Wishing you the best of luck.

  Yours, Stephen Turner

  Team Co-ordinator, The Wanderers’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ David said.

  ‘It’s all I’ve wanted to do, for so long,’ Tom mumbled.

  ‘It’s just stupid.’

  ‘Loads of people have parents who do crazy things. It’s not our fault. We can’t control them. Why can’t they see that? I’m not my mother.’

  ‘It’s probably just ’cos of the trial. It’ll settle down in a couple of weeks.’

  ‘You think?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘I bet some idiot rival told them. There’s this kid I’ve been battling all week and I keep beating him. He started messaging, asking me personal stuff. I didn’t reply, but I bet it was him. He wants my place on the team.’

  ‘Could be. Or they might have worked it out themselves. Maybe your aunt said something? You said they had to contact her, for her to agree stuff.’

  ‘She wouldn’t. Aunt Eve is cool with it all. She knows how it’s all I’ve got. She wouldn’t.’

  ‘It was probably this kid after your place then, like you said. I’m going to grab a shower. What do you say? After that, you come down and get dinner with me, in the hall? It’s fried chicken tonight. Your favourite. Then, in a few days, you try again, once the trial’s over.’

  Tom closed his laptop and then looked at David.

  ‘I’d like that,’ he said.

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Don’t be too long in the shower. I’m starving.’

  David grinned at Tom, pulled off his socks and then raced off down the corridor, punching the air as he ran.

  ***

  Constance took a taxi back to Judith’s flat later that evening. It was a rare luxury for her, but she had already been soaked that day and covered a fair amount of ground travelling. She had called ahead and asked Greg to meet her there too. When she arrived, Greg opened the door.

  ‘She let you in?’ Constance whispered.

  ‘You know I was here yesterday,’ he whispered in return.

  ‘That was when you took her by surprise…and you brought dinner,’ Constance laughed. ‘Where is she?’

  ‘Just finishing a shower. Coffee?’ Greg led the way to the kitchen.

  ‘Have you talked to her about anything yet?’

  ‘She said she was desperate to get clean. That it could wait five minutes till you arrived.’

  ‘That’s not like her.’

  ‘I think she’s pretty tired, actually. Won’t admit it, but she needs to clear her head.’

  ‘That makes two of us.’

  Greg poured water from the kettle into the larger of Judith’s cafetières.

  ‘Have you…have you talked, at all, about why you split up?’ Constance tried hard to keep her face neutral, matter-of-fact, but it collapsed into a mass of wrinkles and creases.

  Greg shook his head.

  ‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea. You know what she’s like. The personification of “never look back”.’

  ‘Then how will you know what you did wrong?... I mean, what you did which she thinks was wrong. I know you wouldn’t have done anything intentionally.’

  ‘Just leave it for now,’ Greg said. ‘None of us needs those kind of distractions. I’ll talk to her, later on, after the trial…if we’re still speaking.’

  ‘Don’t let her bully you,’ Constance said, but regretted her words immediately, as Greg’s cheeks flushed red. It must have been hard for him to swallow his pride and return, after Judith dismissed him so abruptly last time around. He didn’t need reminding of how much more he might have to abase himself before Judith might be willing to open up to him.

  ‘What’s that you two are saying about me?’ Judith wafted in, her damp hair clipped up tightly on the top of her head, trailing the scent of coconut.

  ‘Just surprised you’re pampering yourself at a time like this,’ Constance said, forcing her tired limbs to project her into the living room, towards the work they needed to cover before any of them could retire for the night.

  ‘I will treat that comment with the scant respect it deserves. OK, Council of War time. Who’s going first?’ Judith announced, placing the coffee in the centre of the table, with three mugs around it.

  ‘Would you like to know who Dr Sullivan was messaging the evening she died? Dawson has sent everything through,’ Constance began.

  ‘Yes please.’

  She nodded to Greg and he opened up a file on his laptop.

  ‘None other than the eminent Dr Williams or “Tony” as she called him,’ Greg began.

  ‘All right. Not too suspicious. They were colleagues,’ Judith said.

  ‘Except that would be another thing he neglected to tell us,’ Constance added.

  ‘That’s true. Can you read them out, the messages?’

  ‘Nothing would give me more pleasure,’ Greg said. ‘Here we go. “5.55 Are we still on for tonight?” That’s Liz. “Yes. I’ll be round about 8.” That’s Tony. “Can you make it after 9 please?” She sends that later; not sent till 7pm.’

  ‘That’s because Jaden’s there. She doesn’t want them to meet. Hm. Go on.’

  ‘That’s it for the 1st November.’

  ‘All right. So, Dr Williams lied about when he last saw Liz. Dirty rotten scoundrel. Why?’ Judith was up and pacing the room.

  ‘Is he married? Were they having an affair?’ Greg asked.

  ‘We’ve debated that at length,’ Judith said.

  ‘He is married, but Sandy, Liz’s friend, was adamant there was no affair. She implied he was too boring for her,’ Constance added.

  ‘From what I’ve seen on her phone, I would agree. I’ve looked back a fair few days and the messages between them are not romantic – more like between colleagues or friends. I’m going to keep going through what Inspector Dawson sent over to Connie, but I thought you should get the headline.’

  ‘Thank you Greg. That’s wonderful,’ Judith said, and Constance knew she meant it. ‘So Dr Williams might have been the last one to see Liz alive. What about Tom?’

  ‘No messages from Tom that night. If he did come over, it was unannounced.’

  ‘There is someone else she’s messaging though,’ Greg added, ‘and that does sound a bit more serious.’

  ‘Someone else?’

  ‘She’s saved him as “Eric Valiant” in her contacts. Looks like they met up a few times, nothing too over the top, but these messages do end with an X.’

  ‘Eric Valiant? Has anyone else mentioned him?’

  ‘Never heard of him. So Liz might have been romantically involved with Dr Williams, Eric Valiant and Jaden?’

  ‘I’m not sure how much romance there was with Jaden, even by his own admission. Leaving that aside, maybe one of the other two found out and killed her?’

  ‘My money’s still on Dr Williams,’ Constance said.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Because he’s a doctor, so he would know best how to cover it up.’

  ‘And he didn’t tell us Liz knew Jaden until we got into court. Wait a minute. Connie. Look up “Valiant”, quickly.’

  ‘She doesn’t need to; they’re a gaming company,’ Greg said. ‘If you’d have let me get a word in, I would have said earlier. Making quite a lot of noise recently with a couple of their offerings.’

  Constance opened Valiant’s homepage and shared it with Judith.

  ‘Valiant also gave evidence to the government committee. That’s where I’ve heard the name before,’ Judith added. ‘Although they’re one of the organisations who insisted on keeping their interview private. What a woman. She must have been pursuing Valiant too. If the government wouldn’t take action, then she was going to tell Valiant exactly what she thought.’

  ‘If that was what she was up to, she kept it well-hidden,’ Greg said. ‘Like I said, the messages are very friendly.’

  ‘Look, I hate to break up the party, but there are some things I need to share with you, urgently, maybe more important than this Valiant stuff.’ Constance had been patient with her news, but now she was almost bursting.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Judith said. ‘I was getting carried away with conjecture and Liz’s bravado. Go ahead,’ she said.

  ‘I have someone else for tomorrow, a replacement for Nathaniel.’

  ‘OK?’

  ‘What’s happened to Nathaniel?’ Greg asked. Both women ignored him.

  ‘Who is it?’ Judith asked.

  ‘His name’s Nick Marsh. He was one of Liz’s patients.’

  ‘Are either of you going to tell me what’s happened to Nathaniel?’ Greg persisted.

  ‘Nathaniel stole Liz’s handbag.’ Judith said.

  ‘He says he found it, but we don’t believe him,’ Constance continued.

  ‘Found it?’ Greg asked.

  ‘He went over to Liz’s flat when JD was there. He says JD wasn’t answering his phone and he wanted to remind him to get back in time for the show.’

  ‘JD doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who needs Nathaniel as a babysitter.’

  ‘Either he was jealous that Liz had invited JD in and not him, or just plain nosy. Mr Mason – that’s their old teacher – he knew the boys quite well. He says Nathaniel was always in JD’s shadow. Either way, Nathaniel accepts that he went over there, the front door wasn’t locked. He went in and took Liz’s bag, containing her mobile and purse, says he couldn’t help himself when he saw it lying there. JD and Liz were otherwise engaged in the bedroom.’

  ‘And then what?’

  ‘He used the credit card to buy the shoes – the ones the police found – then he had a pang of conscience, so he went to put the bag back, but he saw Jaden coming out of the flat, so he hid it instead; thought he would return it the next morning. Then the police were all over and Liz was dead. He disposed of the wallet and keys, kept the phone and the bag took a trip to NW3, where it was thrown in some bushes.’

  ‘You believe him, that he’s not just saying it to get JD off?’ Greg asked.

  ‘Nathaniel has form,’ Constance said. ‘Jaden kept him on the straight and narrow, even took the rap for something similar Nathaniel did at school.’

  ‘So, why isn’t Nathaniel giving evidence tomorrow then, saying he stole the credit card. He can say he found it if he likes, can’t he?’

  Judith shrugged. ‘You may as well tell him the rest,’ she said.

  ‘Jaden won’t let him testify,’ Constance said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Jaden says Nathaniel is lying to protect him, just like you said, and has forbidden us to allow him to give evidence.’

  ‘Oh.’

  Greg looked at both women. ‘So that’s it?’

  ‘We can’t put forward a defence, on JD’s behalf, that Nathaniel stole the credit card, if JD doesn’t agree. And we can’t call Nathaniel to the stand, knowing he is going to say something contrary to JD’s case.’

  ‘But you could tell Dawson?’

  ‘Not without JD’s instructions we can’t.’

  ‘Right.’ Greg poured himself some more coffee, a puzzled look on his face.

  ‘Ok, tell me all about this Nick Marsh,’ Judith asked Constance.

  Constance took out her phone and showed Judith and Greg the photo of the four men she had found at Liz’s flat.

  ‘He’s one of Liz’s former patients. He’s the one on the far left in this photo, from Liz’s fridge. I’d been showing it around, but no one knew who they were. Then he, Nick, turned up a couple of hours ago – followed me home.’

  Judith scanned the image and looked hard at Constance.

  ‘He’s willing to give evidence about a secret study Liz asked him to take part in.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘A study where she watched him, and the others, gaming and recorded the results.’

  ‘Why was it secret?’

  ‘No one’s done it before, got gamers to actually play games. They’re always asking them these random questions. Nick got the impression she wanted to make a name for herself, being the first to conduct this kind of research.’

  ‘Look, I hate to burst the bubble.’ Greg said, ‘but how is any of this connected to Liz’s death?’

  ‘Connie. Do you remember that study Liz referenced in one of her earlier papers, all about brain imaging? Can you find that one for me?’ Judith was beginning to smile to herself and Constance was hurriedly flicking through the screens on her laptop.

  ‘You’re not going to tell me?’ Greg asked.

  ‘Here it is,’ Constance replied. ‘I’ll send it to you again. And I’ll also send over the paper from the public study Nick participated in. It’s one of her big ones. He’s player A. You’ll see his results at the end of the paper.’

  Judith began to read the academic papers on her screen, at some speed, Greg drinking his coffee and watching her.

  ‘I see. I’m only good for cracking passwords and fixing the boiler,’ he said, with feigned annoyance.

  Constance looked over at the radiator, then at Judith. She had forgotten Judith’s comments about how cold her flat was, as, whatever the problem previously, it was certainly warm this evening, perhaps even too warm. Taking the hint from her guest, Judith shoved the window open three inches and took some deep breaths of the fresh air. ‘I am appreciative; you know that,’ she said to Greg. Then she strode across the room to the thermostat in the hall, frowned at it and fiddled with it for a few moments before returning to the table and reading some more.

  Then, ‘Nicholas Marsh. Was that his name?’ she said to Constance.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Nicholas Marsh, Player A, wherever you are tonight, I love you,’ Judith announced.

  ‘Not far from here, actually,’ Constance answered.

  ‘Don’t take it personally, Greg,’ Judith spared him a quick glance. ‘I’m not quite there yet, but we are on the cusp of answering your very important question. Tell me everything Nick Marsh told you; don’t leave out any detail,’ Judith directed her comments to Constance. ‘And we’ll want Tony Williams back. Can you arrange for that?’

  ‘Straight after Nick?’

  ‘Yes. That would be best. That way the delightful Sylvie doesn’t have a chance to get her claws into Jaden.’

  ***

  Constance’s phone rang out and she pulled it from her bag. ‘Dawson,’ she announced, as she marched to the kitchen and listened to his call, returning a minute later.

  ‘What did he want?’ Judith asked.

  ‘You’re never going to believe it.’

  ‘Try us.’

  ‘They have a man at the police station; claims his boss killed Elizabeth Sullivan. They’re interviewing him now.’

  ‘What? Who is he?’

  ‘They don’t know. But Dawson told me the boss’s first name. He’s called Eric.’

  38

  Judith and Constance arrived at Hackney police station at 8am the following morning.

  ‘This is such a dreary place,’ Judith said, louder than she had intended, as they deposited themselves in the public waiting area. The desk sergeant looked up at her and frowned, before continuing to write notes in a ledger.

  ‘It’s a police station. What would you like? Velvet cushions?’ Constance replied.