Disordered Minds

Best, Jon

*27*

SPICER & HARDY'S OFFICES, WEST LONDON

WEDNESDAY, JULY 23, 2003, 2:30 P.M.

Jonathan waited for George to take a seat, then dropped into the spare visitor's chair and surveyed his friend with amusement. 'You look like the cat that's got the cream,' he said. 'Let me guess. You've managed to double the advance?'

'Bugger off,' said Andrew.

'Don't tease,' said George as she settled herself in the other chair.

Jonathan's eyes gleamed wickedly. 'Then it must be the clash of the Titans. Tall, glamorous actor-stud with full head of hair loses out to short, fat, bald bloke with embarrassing parents.'

George wagged a finger at him. 'Embarrassing friends more like. I don't recall you rushing to talk about your love life.'

'Mine's nonexistent.'

'That's not what I've heard,' said Andrew. 'Who's this Mongolian bareback rider that George keeps talking about?'

'Oh, for goodness sake!' said George crossly. 'You're like a couple of children.'

Andrew dropped her a wink. 'How's the radiotherapy going?'

'Fine,' she said, 'apart from Jon's chauffeuring skills. I'm not at all convinced his license is genuine. We spend most of our time reversing.'

'It's worse than driving Miss Daisy,' groaned Jonathan. 'Yack, yack, yack from the backseat-and me expected to tug my forelock so the nurses'll treat her like royalty. I wouldn't mind if we weren't using that miserable old rust bucket of hers.' He leveled his forefinger at Andrew. 'I'm not just the official chauffeur, you know, I'm also the resident gigolo. The neighbors are having a field day.'

George's eyes sparkled. 'That's such a lie. He's told everyone he's my son.'

'Except they don't believe it. They're much happier thinking their upright local councillor has moved a black toyboy into her mock-Tudor semi. It's doing her reputation no end of good.' He pulled a face, as if living with George had taught him to ape her mannerisms. 'It's like sharing a house with a Mexican bean. She gets zapped with X-rays in the morning and bounces around all afternoon. When she's not on the phone, tracking down witnesses, she forces me onto the streets to get a sense of location. It's wearing me out.'

Andrew watched spots of pleased color brighten George's cheeks. 'I can't let you do everything,' she protested. 'I have to earn my fifty percent.'

'Less Andrew's ten,' Jonathan reminded her, 'which he seems to think he earned by entertaining a mad woman for half an hour ... and swallowing everything she told him hook, line and sinker, not to mention being charmed out of his socks.'

Andrew grinned. 'Some of it was true.'

'Such as?'

'There was blood on Grace's windows by the Tuesday evening.'

'There's only her word for that. Roy Trent denies it.'

'The police believe her. Otherwise he wouldn't have been charged.'

Jonathan bared his teeth. 'I'd rather believe Roy. At the moment Louise looks like she's washing her hands of both murders.'

Andrew looked inquiringly at George. 'She's squeaky clean,' she agreed with a sigh. 'All she's admitted to is persuading Grace to unlock her door on Monday, then running away once the boys gained entry. Roy's been under the microscope since they found poor Cill's skeleton with the remains of the balled gag still in her mouth. They're being very cagey about the chances of recovering any DNA off it-probably vanished now-but it supports the version that Louise gave.'

'Then perhaps she's innocent,' said Andrew. 'It makes sense that she went back to Grace's house on the Tuesday to check that everything was all right ... and only started throwing fits and fainting when she realized it wasn't.'

'It's not credible,' said Jonathan irritably. 'Why would Roy and his friends want to murder Grace? Even Louise says they were hiding behind the shed-so there's no evidence Grace ever saw them. Louise is the one with the problem, because she took Cill out of the house.'

'I'm playing devil's advocate,' said Andrew mildly. ''However much you dislike Louise, you must at least weigh her innocence in the balance. You're the one who'll be complaining when Jeremy Crossley accuses you of 'flawed analysis.' ' He tapped his forefingers together. 'How does Louise explain it?'

'By playing the abused-child card. She was a damaged thirteen-year-old with rectal bleeding ... confused about why Cill hadn't returned home ... turned to her only friends, the boys, who told her the police would give them another grilling if they didn't persuade Grace to keep her mouth shut as well. Of course she worried that they'd killed her when she saw the blood on the window ... but then Howard was arrested and she realized they couldn't have done.' He arched a sardonic eyebrow. 'The DS in charge finds her very convincing.'

'What's Fred Lovatt's view?' Andrew asked George.