“In exchange for the arcade?”
Wardle nodded and topped up their cups from the teapot.
“Well, it wasn’t making any money according to the books, so it seemed like a good idea to Eric. To be honest, anything that kept the alcohol flowing looked good to Eric by that time.”
“And then, surprise, surprise, the arcade starts making money.”
“Exactly. Even Eric could see that he’d been conned, but there was nothing he could do, it was all legal.”
“It must have devastated him.”
“Drank himself to death within a few months. All very sad. You know, we can all criticise Claybourne for what he did, but the outcome was always going to be the same for Eric Furnow once he won that money.”
They sat in silence for a few moments, drinking their tea and thinking about a life so comprehensively destroyed by coming into money and meeting an unscrupulous man.
Chapter 23
When Callie looked at the photograph that Lisa had emailed to her, she was amazed. She was looking at the picture of a young boy, eleven or twelve years old, but she could still recognise him as the man he had grown into. She didn’t know how Lisa had done it, but the end result was stunning. Callie just hoped that it was recognisable and that she could persuade Miller to give it to the press. Perhaps a family would finally know what happened to their little boy.
“Hi, Nigel?” she said when the incident room phone was finally answered. “I’ve just sent you a reworked photo of body number nine as a young boy that the forensic lab has been working on.” She hoped no one checked whether or not it was officially their work, rather than a side-project of Lisa’s. “I was wondering if you could show it to DI Miller and see if he would be willing to run it in the press?”
“Erm, he’s a bit busy at the moment, Dr Hughes.”
“Well, can someone else do it?”
“Not really.”
Callie could almost hear Nigel squirming and blushing at the other end of the phone.
“Don’t worry, I’ll come in and speak to him myself.”
“No! Not just now,” DC Nugent blurted out in a panic and Callie suddenly realised she could hear shouting in the background. It was hard to work out exactly what was being said by the woman doing the shouting, but she did not sound calm. The voice got louder as the woman presumably got closer to Nigel’s desk.
“So, you can just go back to your whore−”
“Lizzie, look−”
“And don’t think I’m coming back!”
There was the sound of the door slamming and a few moments’ silence. Callie had been hoping that Steve Miller would have managed to convince his wife Lizzie that the compromising photos of him had been sent to her by someone trying to discredit him by now, but it seemed that he hadn’t been successful if the very public argument she had heard was anything to go by.
“So, um, I don’t think now is a good time,” DC Nugent said quickly, and Callie had to agree. There was no way Miller would be in the mood to discuss anything with her after that. He would be way too embarrassed and angry. Callie would need to wait until he had calmed down, at least a little.
“Oh, Dr Hughes?” DC Nugent said in little more than a whisper. “I have a message for you. Just a moment while I find it.”
She waited as he sorted through what she knew was likely to be hundreds of message slips on his desk.
“Ah, yes, here it is. Mr Savage’s assistant called and asked you to give her a ring. I have the number here.”
Callie made a note of the number as she wondered why on earth Mrs Savage might want her to call. There was only one way to find out.
“Hello? Mrs Savage? It’s Dr Hughes here, I had a message to call you.”
“Oh, yes, Dr Hughes.” If Mrs Savage was pleased to hear from Callie, she hid it well. “My husband thought you might be interested in a meeting he’s holding tonight, to discuss the important topic of immigration and those trying to cross illegally from France. It’s at the Broomgrove Community Centre in Ore, seven-thirty.”
“Oh, that’s very kind of him, and you, to think of me.” Callie thought about it for a moment. “Yes, I would be interested.”
“Good, I’ll see you there tonight, Dr Hughes, goodbye.” She ended the call.
Callie was surprised, she had thought that the MP, and his wife, would happily never see her again. Perhaps he was determined to win her over, unlikely as that was, but the opportunity to hear more of his views on the dead migrants was one she did not want to miss.
* * *
The community centre was modern and purpose-built and clean. There were quite a few cars in the carpark, including the little red one she had seen at Ted Savage’s office, so Callie was hopeful that the meeting would be well-attended.
She went to the reception desk and saw that there were a number of events taking place, there were posters for slimming clubs, Pilates and even a reading group. Callie asked where she would find her meeting and was directed to a small room, with a couple of dozen plastic chairs set out in preparation. There was a table at the front, with three more chairs, and a jug of water and two glasses. Clearly one of the speakers was not expected to want a drink.
Callie glanced at her watch. It was five
