Road Kill

She eyed me for a moment. “So you don’t believe that he was knocking off that blonde tart?” she asked, her voice suddenly more uncertain.

I bit my tongue and shook my head, reasoning that a smack in the mouth was not designed to make Tess more forthcoming.

“Not for a moment,” I said. She looked so relieved I didn’t add that my certainty was more down to belief in Clare’s good taste than in the morals of a man who made an alley cat look positively choosy.

“You’re about the only one here who don’t believe it,” Tess said gloomily, twisting at the rings she was wearing. She had them just about to the first joint on every finger. “God knows what I’m goin’ to tell Ashley.”

The daughter, I remembered belatedly. Well, if she hadn’t wanted the little girl exposed to malicious gossip, I considered, she should have left her with a baby-sitter or a grandparent rather than bringing her to a biker’s wake.

“And now I know,” Tess said, her breath gushing out on a long sigh, “I can’t tell ’em.”

“What do you mean?”

She glanced at me, still looking miserable. “I found out tonight that Slick was just giving your mate a lift up to Devil’s Bridge. He wasn’t the one she was—”

She broke off, uncomfortable, giving me a sideways flicker of her eyes.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

It was my turn to sigh. “Just spit it out, Tess,” I said tiredly. “I don’t believe Clare would ever cheat on Jacob, so just say your piece and get it over with.”

Her chin came up, defiant, like I’d asked for it. “Don’t think of it as cheatin’, so much,” she said and there was something a little sly about her now. “Think of it as tradin’ him in for a younger model . . .”

It took a beat before that one went in but it rocked me when it did.

“Jamie? You’ve got to be joking!” I managed. “Who the hell told you that.”

Tess didn’t reply directly but her eyes slid over towards the field where the wake had been held and I knew instantly who she meant.

Jamie himself.

I remembered her anger, which had turned to relief when he’d come over to speak to her earlier. Had he admitted that Slick was just playing taxi driver on his behalf?

Other smaller facts crowded in on me, jostling for position. Jamie’s familiarity with a house he hadn’t lived in for more than five years. The way the dogs hadn’t barked at him when he’d broken in in the middle of the night, like he was still a regular visitor despite his denials. Clare’s desperation for me to protect him in Ireland. Her lies about the day of the accident.

I saw again a picture of Jamie standing by the fire, toasting Slick as a friend and looking very like Jacob must have done when he was a young man. And I could well believe that anyone, even Clare, might have fallen for those good looks and that easygoing charm.

I glanced back at Tess and found her watching me speculatively.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I asked around about you,” she said. “You’ve got a name for gettin’ your teeth into something and not lettin’ go.” She moved in, put a hand on the sleeve of my jacket. “I’m just warnin’ you, friendly like, that you do that this time and you might not like what you find.”

***

I was tired enough not to bother trying to avoid the driveway alarm when I got back to Jacob and Clare’s place. The Suzuki had run like it was on its last legs, but it got me there. As I rolled down the driveway I leaned down and patted the crumpled side of its tank. Even if it died on me now, I could still coast into the yard.

When I put my feet down on the forecourt and cut the engine I half-expected Sean to have heard it and be waiting for me, but only silence greeted my arrival. Not even the usual frantic barking of the dogs. The house seemed to be in shadowed solitude and for a moment I was assailed by unformed fears.

Sean hadn’t been happy that I was intending to go to the wake with Sam, and Sam hadn’t helped by his gloating attitude when he’d turned up earlier. Sean had retreated into the cool, icily civil shell in the face of it. It was either that or deck him. Sam might not have crowed about it quite so much if he’d realised the fact.

I’d hurried Sam out of the house and tried not to worry about what I’d have to deal with when I got back. If it wasn’t for the Shogun still parked outside, I might almost have wondered if Sean had packed his bags and headed back down to King’s Langley. Almost. But Sean didn’t like quitting.

Even when the army had tried to lever him out of his career after the scandal of our affair had surfaced, he’d clung on with a tenacity that must have surprised them. It had taken a couple of years of shitty postings and near- suicidal operations before he’d finally bowed to the inevitable and got out while he could still do it on his feet.

And even then, he hadn’t let them beat him. Driven to succeed, he’d built up the close protection agency to its current level just by being better than the competition. I knew Sean hadn’t offered me a job for any other reason than because he believed I could meet his standards. I suppose events in Florida – however much a baptism of fire that had turned out to be – had proved I was up to it.

Now, as I put the bike away in the coach house and went inside, I was aware of a tightening in my shoulders. And it had very little to do with the prospect of explaining what had happened at the wake.

I found Sean slouched on the sofa in the living room, watching one of the satellite news channels. The reason for the lack of noise from the dogs became immediately apparent. The terrier was asleep on his lap and Bonneville, not to be outdone, was stretched out alongside him on the cushions with her head resting on his thigh. She was too old and arthritic to jump onto the sofa any more, so I knew Sean must have lifted her up there.