with weary resignation.
“So, Miss Leigh, how do you feel now about a failed restauranteur with convictions for health violation, GBH, arson, and resisting arrest?
Because, barring miracles, that’s what I’ll be in three weeks.”
Her eyes gleamed above her wine glass.
“Horny.”
He gave an involuntary chuckle. It was the same gleam in the pictured eyes of Alice.
“You look just like your daughter.” He stirred the photographs again.
“You should have them all around the room to remind yourself of how beautiful she was.
I would if she’d been mine.” He heard Roz’s indrawn breath and glanced at her.
“Sorry. That was insensitive.”
“Don’t be an oaf,” she said.
“I’ve just remembered where I’ve seen that man before. I knew I knew him. It’s one of Mr. Hayes’s sons. You know, the old man who lived next door to the Martins.
He had photographs of the family on his sideboard.” She clapped her hands.
“Is that a miracle, Hawksley, or is it a miracle? Sister Bridget’s prayers must be working.”
She sat at her kitchen table and watched Hal work his magic on the meagre contents of her fridge. He had sloughed off his frustration like a used-up skin and was humming contentedly to himself as he interleaved bacon between thin slices of chicken breast and sprinkled them with parsley.
“You’re not planning to stick my hat ping into Mr. Hayes, are you?” she asked him.
“I’m sure he hasn’t a clue what his beastly son’s been up to. He’s a dear old thing.”
Hal was amused.
“I shouldn’t think so.” He covered the dish with silver foil and put it in the oven.
“But I’m damned if I can see at the moment how the jigsaw fits together. Why did Hayes Junior suddenly up the pressure on me if all he had to do was sit tight and wait for my prosecution?”
“Have him arrested and find out,” said Roz reasonably.
“If it was me, I’d have driven straight down, demanded an address off his father, and sent in the fuzz.”
“And you’d have got precisely nowhere.” He thought for a moment.
“You said you made a tape of your conversation with the old man. I’d like to listen to it. I can’t believe it’s coincidence. There has to be a stronger link. Why did they all get so twitched suddenly and start wielding baseball bats? It doesn’t make sense.”
“You can listen to it now.” She brought her briefcase in from the hallway, located the tape, and set the recorder running on the table.
“We were talking about Amber’s illegitimate son,” she explained as the old man’s voice quavered out.
“He knew all about him, even down to the child’s adopted name and what country he’s in. Robert Martin’s entire estate is his if they can find him.”
Hal listened with rapt attention.
“Brown?” he queried at the end.
“And living in Australia? How do you know he’s right?”
“Because Olive’s shitty solicitor threatened me with injunctions when I let on I knew.” She frowned.
“Mind you. I’ve no idea how Mr. Hayes found out. Crew won’t even give Olive the child’s name. He’s paranoid about keeping it secret.”
Hal removed a saucepan of rice from the cooker and drained it.
“How much did Robert Martin leave?”
“Half a million.”
“Christ!” He gave a low whistle.
“Christ!” he said again.
“And it’s all on deposit waiting for the child’s appearance?”
“Presumably.”
“Who’s the executor?”
“The solicitor, Peter Crew.”
Hal spooned the rice into a bowl.
“So what did he say when you tackled him about it? Did he admit they were on the child’s track?”
“No. He just kept threatening me with injunctions.” She shrugged.
“But he wrote to Olive and told her the chances were minimal. There’s a time limit, apparently, and if the child
