Nothing but Trouble (53 page)

Jess counted the houses in the alleyway that ran behind Morton Grove until she came to number 14. There was a high wrought-iron
gate fixed into the wall, and she peered through its bars at the terrace behind. It looked very different now to how it once
had; the house had been smartened up, the trim neat and fresh, the windows gleaming. Even the yard was immaculate, strewn
with pots of yellow daffodils.

Jess wasn’t really sure what she was doing there, except she felt that the fate of Minnie Bright had somehow got lost in everything
that had happened recently. One little girl who was never going home. Who was left to remember her? In her mind, she could
hear the voices of the girls egging Minnie on, urging her to haul her skinny body through the tiny bathroom window.

Jess drank in the cool, damp air. It was three days since Simon Wetherby had turned up in Station Road, planning on silencing
her for ever. Since then she’d been putting the pieces
together. She understood now the relevance of the light, the reason why Paige and Becky had changed their minds about talking
to her, and Kirsten Cope’s part in it all. She knew too how Wetherby had managed to get her new phone number to torment her
in the supermarket: Clare had got it from Masterson and passed it on to her old lover.

What had started as a casual conversation on a cab ride home had turned into an unearthing of terrible lies, terrible deeds.
Becky Hibbert had been strangled, Dan Livesey murdered too. And what about Lynda Choi? Perhaps no one would ever know the
truth about what had happened to her that night.

Jess thought of the girl with the long red hair. Clare Towney had carried her guilt around for fourteen long years. Now she
was dead too. One single step as the tube train slid smoothly into Bethnal Green station. Had the driver had time to realise,
time to avert his gaze? And what of Clare – what had she thought of in those final few seconds? Her mother, perhaps, her mother’s
scared, bewildered eyes?

Jess raised her own eyes to the cloud-filled grey sky. It was time to move on, to put it all behind her. She had bridges to
build in Pimlico. Neil was still resentful about being kept in the dark, still annoyed that she had chosen to go it alone.
And perhaps he was right. The best relationships were based on honesty and trust. After giving the house one last glance,
she set off down the alleyway and didn’t look back.

Harry peered at his face in the mirror, searching for signs that it had changed. He felt different on the inside, altered
in a fundamental way. His experiences had taught him a valuable lesson about what was important and what wasn’t. He thought
of the small holding cell and shuddered. He was lucky, he’d got a second chance and he didn’t intend to throw it away. Next
weekend he was going to see his father, and in the meantime he was
going to put his head down and concentrate on work.

Jess and Mac had saved his skin and he would never forget it. Paul Rafferty had been paid generously by Stagg to impersonate
Martin Locke. He’d also been paid to leave the country immediately afterwards. But by a stroke of good fortune, Rafferty had
latched on to a rich American widow and decided not to use his ticket to Spain. Rafferty’s greed had proved to be Harry’s
get-out-of-jail card.

He found himself wondering why Ray Stagg had chosen him as the scapegoat. There were hundreds of private detectives in London.
Had it been pure chance, or something else? Perhaps it was simply that Stagg understood his weaknesses. By throwing him out
of the casino, by ordering him to leave Aimee alone, he had ensured that Harry would do the very opposite. He frowned into
the mirror. Or maybe it was to do with the past. They had made a deal once, a deal that still rankled with Harry and that
maybe played on the other man’s mind too. Had Ray Stagg been worried that one day he’d be made to pay?

Harry would probably never know the answer, but there was one thing he was sure about. When the case came to court, Stagg
and Aimee Locke would try and tear each other’s throats out. If there had been love, it would turn to hate. If there had been
loyalty, it would quickly turn to betrayal. Each would blame the other but both would end up behind bars.

Of David Sage there was still no news. He had probably slipped out of the country on the night of Locke’s murder. Having evaded
justice for the past twenty-six years, there seemed little chance of the law catching up with him now. Would he have any sleepless
nights about the part he had played in his daughter’s downfall? Somehow Harry doubted it.

He turned away from the mirror, left the bedroom and went through to the living room, where he gazed for a while at the bare
floorboards. Another job to complete. Yesterday he had
taken up the paint-smeared carpet and rolled it out into the hall. Perhaps he would sand down the boards and leave them bare.

Although she hadn’t been with him for long, the flat seemed curiously empty without Jess. He kept expecting to see her seated
at the table or curled up on the sofa. And then he wondered if it was specifically Jess he missed or simply having someone
else around to share the good times and the bad. Valerie had called, suggesting they meet up for a drink. It was time for
him to work out what he really wanted.

Harry gave the living room one final glance before he locked up and went downstairs. As he entered the office, he was surprised
to find the reception area wizzing with extremely attractive women.

Mac was standing at the desk with Lorna.

Harry walked over. ‘Hey, what’s going on here?’

‘We talked about it,’ Mac said. ‘The honeytrap venture, right? We’re checking out some likely candidates today. You’re going
to sit in on the interviews, aren’t you?’

Harry looked over at the women. A cool, classy blonde with eyes you could drown in met his gaze and smiled. His lips were
on the verge on responding when an image of Aimee Locke’s swaying, seductive hips appeared in his mind. He patted his partner
softly on the shoulder. ‘You know what, mate. I think I’ll pass on this one.’

Harry walked over to his office, opened the door and closed it firmly behind him.