‘Yes, but you’re not proposing sending a card, are you. No … you’re trekking halfway up the country on your own to see a murderer you haven’t seen in forty years.’
Gus had witnessed this type of scene play out many times throughout his childhood and he was in no way expecting his mum to capitulate. However, for his dad’s peace of mind, Gus was aware that his old man had to make a fuss. It was how the two of them worked and in many ways, Gus envied their easy relationship.
His mind had flashed back to Sadia and the relationship they’d shared. He’d hoped it would develop into something long lasting, something as solid as his parents’. Focussing on the ongoing manoeuvring of his parents, Gus waited until, in the end, as expected, his mum played her trump card, placing him in the role of responsible person. ‘Anyway, I don’t know why you’re making such a fuss. Don’t you trust Angus to look after me?’
Stuck between offending his son and his reluctance to capitulate, Fergus McGuire was in a bad place. This was Gus’s cue to step in. ‘I’ll look after her, dad. You know I will. And Professor Carlton will be there too. Between us, she’ll be perfectly safe.’
Fergus harrumphed, rather like a horse. ‘That silly little psychologist? What the hell use is he going to be? Good job you’ve got your wits about you, Angus.’
And with that the matter was settled.
Now, Gus had been summoned to his parents’ house for a final ‘planning meeting’. Unsure why his mum found yet another planning meeting necessary for an overnight trip to Scotland, he had given in and agreed to come for afternoon coffee – glad that he’d managed to avoid the offer of lunch by pleading that he had to interview a suspect in the Erica Smedley investigation. That particular investigation was going nowhere fast and the neighbour he’d interviewed – an obnoxious man who the other residents of the cul-de-sac maintained was violent towards his wife – had an alibi – he had been shagging his best friend’s girlfriend while his friend was working away from home. Much as Gus would have loved to bang the man up, he had to let him go.
Glad to escape Carlton’s over enthusiastic witterings about ‘going on a road trip’ and ‘riding shotgun’ as well as his rendition of that song about riding shotgun, that Gus couldn’t get out of his head now, Gus left The Fort. The next two days were going to be two of the longest ever.
Entering into his parents’ drive, the security gates swishing closed behind him, he noticed another vehicle parked up close to the house. Hopefully his mum hadn’t double booked him. Assuming the visitor would leave when Gus arrived, he parked beside the vehicle rather than behind it and walked over to the house.
He had a key, but the door was unlocked, and Gus made a mental note to chastise his mum for that. Just because the periphery of the house was secure, didn’t mean that somebody couldn’t get into the grounds. His mother had been abducted from the front of the house a few years ago, hence the extensive security, but she had a dreadful habit of assuming that the external security made the need for locking doors redundant.
Opening the door, he heard voices coming from the kitchen and made his way along the hallway. He was greeted enthusiastically by his parent’s two dogs. After fussing over them for a few moments, they disappeared to lie in the sun that shone through the conservatory window.
‘Angus, is that you?’
‘You left the door unlocked again, Mum, so it’s a bloody good job it’s…’ Gus’s voice trailed off as he entered the kitchen and saw who was sitting by the breakfast bar. His frowning gaze went from his mum – who stood by the sink, wringing her hands, with an anxious over-bright smile on her lips – back to the woman who kept her gaze firmly on him.
Anger flooded over him – anger, that his mum had somehow contrived to put him and Sadia in the same room. Why would she do this?
‘Sit down, Angus, the coffee’s ready and I baked buns. I’ve packed extra for you to take back for Compo, I know he loves the chocolate chip ones.’
As his mother fussed about, talking nineteen to the dozen, Gus, resigning himself to an uncomfortable half hour, moved forward and settled on a stool opposite Sadia. Keeping his expression neutral, he gave a sniffy nod in her direction, refusing to be the first to look away. ‘Sadia. Fancy meeting you here.’
‘Hi, Gus. I thought it best we meet before tomorrow’s trip. Don’t want to make things any more awkward than they’ll already be.’
Gus frowned. He was missing something here – what trip? What was she talking about? He flicked a glance at his mum, who was studiously pouring coffee, her cheeks flushed a deep red. It sank in. ‘For God’s sake, Mum. Why the hell did you ask her to come with us? We’re not going on our bloody jollies, you know?’
His mum replaced the coffee carafe on the breakfast bar and straightened, her eyes lasering into him, making him falter. ‘Her, is Sadia and you’re in my house, so you will be polite to my guest.’
Wishing this whole nightmare would be over, Gus grabbed his mug, slopped in a glug of milk, and took a slurp, refusing to grimace when the too-hot liquid scalded the roof of his mouth. His mother wasn’t finished. She’d drawn herself up to her full five foot one. ‘I told you I consulted with someone from Police Scotland when the first sketch arrived, didn’t I?’
Gus nodded, Taffy had summarised the report from the Scottish detective for them, they’d not been able to connect with Rory and it had been a redundant exercise. Gus didn’t know what that had to do
