looking at her, not speaking. Vera could tell he was resentful about the disrupted routine, at being forced to unlock the prisoner, walk him here from the block, while all the other officers, his mates, were in the office, drinking tea, having a laugh. He moved outside, sat on an upright chair, stared into space. She shut the door, was aware of the smell of hot bodies, hoped it came from Davy and not from her. She took a packet of cigarettes from her bag, offered him one. He took it, lit it quickly, inhaled.
‘You’ll know why I’m here,’ she said. They all had TVs in their pads now, he’d have seen the news, even if word of Luke’s death hadn’t got back to him in other ways.
‘That lad who was a friend of our Thomas. Is that it?’
She didn’t say anything, tried to banish the picture of the pint glass from her mind.
He leaned forward. Already the cigarette was half smoked. He knocked the ash into the foil ashtray. He was a thin, nondescript man. If you met him in the street you’d walk past without a second glance. It was an advantage. He’d grown up in a family where thieving came as second nature. Infamous. In Shields mothers said to kids who misbehaved, ‘You carry on like that and you’ll end up like the Sharps.’ He specialized in credit-card fraud. It suited him that people couldn’t remember his face. Vera never had any idea what he was thinking. Yet he couldn’t be that good at what he did. He’d spent a third of his adult life in prison. Perhaps he was more comfortable inside.
He looked up at her, eyes narrowed. ‘You don’t think we had anything to do with that?’
‘Luke blamed himself for your lad’s death. I wondered if maybe you blamed him too.’
‘It was an accident.’ He stubbed out the cigarette. She saw his hand was trembling, wondered if that was part of his act too. She slid the packet across the table towards him, waited until he’d shaken the next one out.
‘Did you ever meet Luke?’
‘Not while Thomas was alive.’ He gave a little smile. ‘I haven’t been home much recently. They let me out for my lad’s funeral. I met the Armstrong boy there. Thomas had spoken about him, though, when he came here on visits. It sounded like they were real mates. Two of a kind maybe. Not the sharpest tools in the box. That was the impression I got from wor lass. We were pleased he’d taken up with the Armstrong boy. We didn’t want Thomas following me into this game. He’d never be any good at it and he’d never survive a place like this.’
‘Did you speak to Luke at the funeral?’
‘Aye. Just a few words. They wouldn’t let me stay on for the beer and sandwiches.’
‘What did he say?’
‘That he was sorry. That he’d tried his best to save Thomas. You could tell he meant it. He looked a real mess. He cried like a baby throughout the service, could hardly spit out the words when he was talking to me.’
‘Was his mam there?’
‘Big blonde lass? Aye. Thomas had talked about her too, said how good she was to him. I thanked her.’
‘You were inside then, when Thomas died?’
‘On remand.’
‘But you must have tried to find out what happened.’
‘I talked to a few people.’
‘And?’
‘For once your lot got it right. The lads had been drinking, horsing around. Thomas fell in. Like I said, an accident.’ He paused. ‘I wish there was someone to blame. But there isn’t.’
‘Did Thomas have any other friends?’
‘Not really. There were kids he played with when he was younger, an older lad in the street who looked out for him, but Luke Armstrong was his only real mate just before he died.’
They sat for a moment in silence. Outside the officer must have shifted on the uncomfortable chair. They could hear the keys on his belt clinking.
‘Is that it?’ Sharp said at last.
‘Have you any idea who might have wanted Luke Armstrong dead?’
He shook his head. ‘No one I know would strangle a boy.’ Vera knew that wasn’t true but let it pass.
‘He wasn’t working for you? I mean, you weren’t using the boys?’ She was thinking something menial; maybe he’d given them a few quid to run messages.
‘I told you, I’d never met Luke Armstrong until I saw him at my son’s funeral and I didn’t want Thomas caught up in my business. Besides, I wouldn’t trust either of them. Not even to fetch me a bag of chips. Too unreliable.’
‘Just seems a coincidence. Both of them dead. Couldn’t be someone’s trying to send you a message?’
‘Coincidences happen,’ he said grimly.
She looked at him sharply, tried to tell if there was anything behind the words, but his face was impassive.
‘You could put the word out,’ she said. ‘Let people know you’ve got an interest.’
At first it was as if she’d not spoken. He continued to stare ahead of him. Then he gave an almost imperceptible nod. ‘I’ll do that.’
‘And you’ll let me know if you hear anything?’
He nodded again.
She felt she was missing something, that there was one question still to ask. They sat for a moment looking at each other. She wondered if she should mention the flowers scattered on the bath water where Luke had been found – might that have some meaning for him? But they’d managed to keep that out of the news and she didn’t want it to become public knowledge. At last she pushed the packet of cigarettes across the table to him without a word. She waited until he’d slipped them into the pocket of his jeans, then opened the door and called to the officer.
‘OK. We’re finished here.’
While she was waiting at the gate to be signed out, she tried to picture Sharp’s face, some expression she should have picked up, some message he might be trying to convey. But she couldn’t do it. In her memory the features were a blur. She wasn’t even sure if she’d select him out of an identity parade.
She’d switched off her mobile before handing it over to the gate officer. Walking back to the car, she turned it on. No messages. No missed calls. They were no further forward than the night Luke had died. She’d parked the car in the shade and the sun was lower now. She switched off the air conditioning and opened the windows. Away from the coast the roads were quiet and as she climbed into the hills she felt her spirits lift. At home there was a fridge full of beer and tomorrow she’d come to the investigation fresh and rested.
Her phone rang just as she’d parked outside the old station master’s house. She didn’t hear it at first, because the Edinburgh train was roaring north. Virgin not GNER. A flash of red. It rang again when the train had passed.
Chapter Ten
James loved chess. Clive, one of Peter’s friends, had taught him, and perhaps because he considered it an adult pastime he’d been passionate about it ever since. It made him feel grown-up. Peter didn’t often have the patience to play with him, but James always beat Felicity now. She waited outside the school, looking occasionally at her watch. She’d told him to make sure he came out on time, because she had the special meal to prepare, but still he was the last one to cross the playground. I should be pleased, she thought, that he’s so laid back.
All the way home he talked about the game he’d been playing and she had to interrupt him to ask about the student who’d come to look at the cottage.
‘Did Miss Marsh say if she wanted to live there?’ she asked just as they turned into the lane which led to their house.
‘No,’ he said, so vaguely that she could tell he was still thinking of other things. ‘I didn’t see her today.’
She thought that was probably the end of the matter. It was a shame. It might have been fun to have the young woman as a neighbour just for a few weeks, until the end of term. Then she had to pull right into the hedge, because a Land Rover was turning out of the lane, and she forgot all about it.
Felicity had expected that Peter would arrive home early that night, but in fact he was later than usual. She
