LITMIR.BIZ

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his desk.

      ‘So, Pierre Charpentier is fifty-four years old. He’s got no siblings. No wife. No children. And his parents died when he was fifteen. So that pretty much rules out his family as the people who could be providing a refuge for him. And as for his record, I see that before he committed murder, we’d had him in for questioning on seventeen separate occasions. For acting as a fence, aggravated assault, burglary – this is quite the rap sheet, Camille.’

      Richard didn’t look up from the printout, because he could sense that Camille was standing in front of his desk, a hand on her hip and an eyebrow raised. And once again Richard was getting the distinct impression that he was ‘in the wrong’, but he refused to give in to it.

      ‘Yes, quite the rap sheet,’ Richard repeated, in the hope that Camille would perhaps get bored and wander off.

      She didn’t, so Richard eventually lifted his eyes from the paper.

      ‘What was that?’ Camille asked.

      ‘What was what?’

      ‘You have to apologise to him.’

      ‘To whom?’

      ‘You know who. Dwayne.’

      ‘Now, don’t you start,’ Richard said.

      ‘But he’s in love!’

      ‘In love,’ Richard snorted. ‘For this week perhaps. But that man has more girlfriends than I’ve got . . .’ Richard couldn’t quite find the right word to end his sentence. ‘Socks,’ he eventually said.

      ‘Socks?’

      ‘Yes. Socks. Anyway, you know what I mean,’ Richard said, getting up and heading in a huff to inspect the whiteboard.

      ‘But I think this time it’s different. She seems really into him. And I know he really likes her.’

      ‘Look, Camille, no-one is more thrilled than me that Dwayne is “loved up”, but that’s no excuse for slacking off.’

      ‘But what if you found love, sir?’

      As Camille said this, Richard was popping the lid on his favourite black board marker, and it pinged into the air and dropped to the floor.

      ‘Now look what you’ve made me do,’ he said irritably as he bent down to pick up the lid.

      ‘Because if you found love,’ Camille continued, ‘I know we’d all be pleased for you. And if you then spent a bit too much time with that person, I know we’d all understand. No, better than that. We’d be happy for you. And we wouldn’t interfere.’

      ‘I haven’t been interfering.’

      ‘You went and spied on him.’

      ‘That wasn’t interfering. That was being a responsible line manager. Now, if you don’t mind, we’ve got a killer to catch. And seeing as your background check suggests that Pierre Charpentier doesn’t have a ready network of family to rely on, the question of where he’s hiding becomes even more acute.’

      ‘You’re right there, sir,’ Fidel said, relieved that the conversation had moved on from his boss’s love life. ‘And I’m still not making much progress on that front. Although I’ve spoken to the taxi driver who drove Pierre to his halfway house that morning. He said Pierre seemed really pumped to be out of prison. He noticed because he’s had the prison contract for years, and most people are a bit lost when they first come out. Or are emotional. But he said Pierre wasn’t like that at all.’

      ‘He was “pumped”?’

      ‘It was like he had a sense of purpose. That’s how the taxi driver put it to me.’

      ‘I see,’ Richard said as he went back to study the whiteboard where the names Conrad Gardiner, Natasha Gardiner and Pierre Charpentier were written up in big bold letters.

      ‘You know what?’ Richard said after a few moments. ‘If Conrad’s dead and Pierre’s in hiding, that doesn’t mean we’re without leads.’

      Richard pointed at Natasha’s name on the board.

      ‘Because we now know the ruby was left behind because of the burglary twenty years ago. And Natasha Gardiner was married to Conrad twenty years ago. I think it’s time she told us the truth.’

      Leaving Fidel in the station, Richard and Camille returned to Natasha’s house. They found her sitting in the front room.

      ‘Mrs Gardiner?’ Camille asked as she and Richard entered the room.

      ‘Have you any news?’ Natasha asked.

      ‘I’m sorry, we haven’t.’

      ‘He can’t be dead. I just don’t believe it.’

      ‘We’ll let you know the moment we have anything definite. But in the meantime, there has been a development elsewhere in the case. We’d like to see if you recognise this man.’

      Camille handed over a copy of Pierre’s mugshot and, as Natasha looked at it, she seemed to crumple.

      ‘Oh god,’ she said, her hand going to her mouth.

      ‘You recognise him?’ Camille asked.

      ‘It’s that Pierre man, isn’t it?’

      ‘You know him?’

      Natasha nodded.

      ‘And he’s the reason why a ruby was left behind in your house, isn’t he?’

      Richard could see that Natasha had no ready reply.

      ‘Mrs Gardiner?’ he asked sternly, but Natasha only had eyes for Camille.

      ‘You go through life,’ she said, ‘and you just hope the past won’t catch up with you. But that’s not how life works, is it?’

      ‘The ruby is connected to your past?’ Camille asked.

      ‘Not mine,’ Natasha said. ‘And I wasn’t sure when I saw that ruby. I mean, I had an idea. I worried, but I didn’t know for sure. That’s why I didn’t say anything. But if that man Pierre is behind all this, then I know exactly why he’s done what he’s done.’

      As Natasha said this, she burst into tears.

      Richard rolled his eyes to himself. Bloody hell, why was it always so hard getting witnesses to talk without them turning on the water works?

      Natasha pulled a hankie from the sleeve of her cardigan and tried to wipe the tears from her face.

      ‘My husband was a good person,’ she said in between her sniffs. ‘You have to believe me. He was kind to me, and a loving father to our daughter. He meant well in so many ways. But he was also weak. In the past more than now, but what he did caused a stain it’s not possible to wipe away. And it was all because of him,’ Natasha said, indicating the photo of Pierre. ‘Because if Conrad was a good man under it all, Pierre was the worst. I knew he was trouble from the start.’

      ‘You knew Pierre from before he went to prison?’ Richard asked.

      ‘I married Conrad twenty-five years ago. I was flattered by his attention, and I just ignored my parents who said Conrad wasn’t any good. I was full of myself. Feeling all grown up at nineteen years old. Having a boyfriend with a motorbike. If I could reach back in time, I’d slap myself in the face and tell me to walk away.’

      ‘You now feel your parents were right?’

      ‘They were right. But they were also wrong. Conrad was a good man. Like I said. It’s just he loved money. And music. He loved the whole music scene. I always encouraged him to become a roadie or sound technician, but it required too much work. He just talked about this amazing career in music he was going to have, but he never did anything about it.

      ‘Then, a few years into our marriage, he started hanging out with Pierre. That

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