‘You know, frankly, I don’t really care about that.’
‘About what?’ Kate said, walking back in with a bottle of wine.
The doorbell sounded.
‘That’ll be Tingley,’ I said.
Kate headed for the door. Gilchrist laughed for no reason and stood to usher me towards her bedroom. The moment we were in there she handed me a framed picture.
‘Is that Kate with her parents?’
It was a much younger Kate, and William didn’t have his goatee, but it was unmistakably the family. I nodded.
‘Then we need to talk,’ she said, striding back into the living room.
Kate was ushering Tingley in.
‘Was your meeting with the Godfather useful?’ Kate said to Tingley.
‘Hathaway? Not really. But he put me on to someone else who was much more interesting. And today Bob and I got a little tickle from an acquaintance of mine.’
Gilchrist looked from one to the other of us.
‘Oh, what – there’s some stuff only the boys should know?’
Tingley looked down.
‘Some of this information specifically affects Bob,’ he said. ‘I’m not trying to exclude anyone. If Bob wants to share it with you and Kate, fine.’
‘It’s fine with me,’ I said. ‘But Kate, it also specifically affects you because of your father.’
Kate shifted in her seat.
‘Tell me,’ she said.
‘Your father is behind some bad things,’ Tingley said, his voice unusually gentle.
‘Tell me something I don’t know,’ Kate said, barking a laugh that couldn’t quite conceal her… conceal her what? Dread? Alarm? Fear? There was something, but I didn’t know her well enough to know what she was feeling.
‘He could end up in prison for a very long time,’ I said quietly.
Kate looked at her glass of wine, picked it up and took the smallest of sips.
‘It was only a matter of time,’ she said tonelessly. She put her glass back down on the table, very precisely. I glanced at Gilchrist. She looked like she was about to burst.
‘Did you get anywhere else with Philippa?’ I said to her.
She took a breath. Exhaled.
‘I thought I had. Now I’m not so sure.’
I frowned, but she gave a slight shake of her head.
‘Finch killed Little Stevie,’ she said. ‘That’s the first thing she said.’
‘And the rest?’ I said.
She shrugged.
‘According to Tingley’s source,’ I said, ‘Little Stevie wasn’t the main target. It was the couple in bed.’
‘Who were?’
‘That we still don’t know specifically. Bosnian Serb gangster and his moll, apparently.’
‘Moll?’ Kate said. Then, after a pause: ‘How is my dad involved with Bosnian gangsters?’
‘We think his link is with Little Stevie,’ I said.
Kate reached for her glass but stopped, her hand still outstretched.
‘OK,’ she said. ‘OK.’
Gilchrist was looking at Kate.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said.
Kate grimaced.
‘As I said: long time coming.’
Gilchrist stood and nodded at me.
‘I think you and I should have another crack at Philippa Franks,’ she said.
‘If you think I can help. When?’
‘Now?’
They took Watts’s car. The moment they were in it, he turned to her:
‘What’s going on?’
‘I recognize Kate’s father,’ she said. ‘William Simpson. I couldn’t think where at first.’
‘You’ve probably seen him on the telly,’ Watts said. ‘He does a lot of broadcasting.’
‘No, from somewhere else. Somewhere here.’ She took a big breath. ‘I saw him having an argument with Philippa Franks in a cafe in Hove a few weeks ago.’
Watts was silent for a moment. Tingley murmured:
‘Bingo.’
‘Hence our need to get back to her,’ Watts said. He looked at Tingley in the rear-view mirror. ‘Do you want to come with us?’
‘You don’t need me. Let’s talk later.’
Watts dropped Tingley on the seafront opposite The Ship and drove on in silence.
‘I assumed it was a lover’s tiff,’ Gilchrist said.
‘It may have been. Even so, it’s heady stuff.’
Watts parked near the entrance to the block of flats and Gilchrist rang Franks’s doorbell.
‘It’s me again. Sarah.’
There was silence, then Franks buzzed them in. They took the lift. Watts seemed embarrassed by their proximity in the lift, but maybe Gilchrist was imagining that.
Franks’s door was ajar. They knocked then walked in. She was standing on her balcony looking out to sea. The noise of the traffic going by on the main drag below ricocheted into the confined space. She saw Gilchrist’s expression.
‘I’d always wanted a place overlooking the sea. Imagined myself sitting out on the balcony of an evening with a glass of wine, listening to my favourite music, watching the sun go down. But the traffic along the sea front – who knew that sound rises? The fact is I can’t hear the music because of the blare of the traffic and the sea frets usually obscure the sun.’ She lifted her glass. ‘At least there’s still the wine.’ She nodded at Watts. ‘Cheers, sir.’
‘Call me Bob,’ he said.
‘It won’t get you anywhere,’ she said.
‘How do you know William Simpson?’ Watts said.
Franks was startled. It was clear she was about to deny it, equally clear that she realized there was no point.
‘H-how did you…?’
‘The man I saw you with – that was him, wasn’t it?’ Gilchrist said.
Franks sighed.
‘It’s not easy meeting men when you work our hours and you have two kids.’
She sounded tipsy.
‘Is there anything you want to tell us about you and William Simpson with regard to the Milldean operation?’ Watts said.
Franks looked puzzled.
‘Nothing at all. Why?’
Gilchrist reached out to squeeze Franks’s arm.
‘We think that Simpson is somehow involved with what went wrong there and since you were involved with him…’
Franks’s eyes flashed.
‘You think he asked me to shoot somebody?’
‘What happened in that house?’ Watts said.
‘I’ve already told Sarah,’ Franks said. ‘Jesus. Let’s go inside.’
There were two big sofas in the sitting room. Franks took one, Gilchrist and Watts took the other.
