any dinner?' she asked Nora, without a word to her parents.
'Thank you, Nora,' Ron said firmly. 'You can go.' Nora dutifully withdrew.
'But Ron,' she heard Lynda protest, 'she must be hungry.'
'Should've been here on time, then,' came the peremptory reply. Nora retired to the kitchen. Even at that distance she could hear raised voices from the dining room. All that money, and they were never satisfied.
Melanie was seething. Her father never listened to her. He always thought he knew better than everyone else. She hated the school he'd chosen for her, and the college he'd packed her off to had felt more like a prison. Now she was a working adult, her father had to stop thinking he was running her life. She was determined to stay with Terry and prove to her father that he could no longer control her every move.
'You don't even know him,' she fumed. 'You don't know the first thing about him. You think he's only interested in me for my money.'
'Your money?' her father repeated. 'It's not your money, is it?'
Melanie stared at him. 'And what exactly is that supposed to mean?'
'Oh Melanie,' Lynda interrupted with a sigh, 'don't go upsetting your father.'
'Terry doesn't care about your money,' Melanie insisted. 'He's an independent man. He earns his own money, not like some.' She slumped in her chair, biting her lip.
'I'm glad to hear he's not a complete sponger. What does he do?'
'He works in a park. It's a perfectly respectable way to earn a living. Healthy too.' She glared pointedly at her father, who had notoriously indulged in alcohol and drugs in his youth.
'A gardener,' Ron relit his expensive cigar. 'Good for him.'
Melanie pushed her chair back and stood up. 'You never care about what I want, do you?' she grumbled. 'Well, I'm not going to give him up just to make you happy. Why should I? What do you know about love? All you think about is money. What about my happiness?' Ron's eyes slid away from his daughter's face. He nodded at the coffee and Lynda picked up the pot. It shook slightly as she poured.
They all knew Melanie didn't earn enough at the chic art gallery where she worked to fund her extravagant tastes. Ron picked up his coffee and gazed levelly at his daughter over the rim of his cup. His fat cigar smouldered gently in his other hand. Melanie turned to appeal to her mother but Lynda sat immobile and stared at her lap, refusing to take sides.
'See if I care,' Melanie bleated. 'You're nothing but a bully. You think you're a big shot, but you can't buy me.'
'I think we're done here,' Ron Rogers said evenly, indicating the table, but his eyes remained fixed on his daughter. Flicking her long blonde hair off her shoulders with a violent twist of her head, she slammed out of the room and out of the house. She roared off in her Porsche, along the empty road that led back to Terry.
21
Lakeland
The DCI wondered if Heather Spencer could have been mistaken.
'She struck me as a reliable witness, ma'am,' Geraldine said, glancing round the room. Peterson stared at the Incident Board.
'A reliable witness who can't remember anything,' Merton muttered.
'The boyfriend's profile fits,' the DCI said, tapping the board, but she sounded unconvinced. John Drew had previous form. At eighteen he'd been accused of GBH but the trial had been thrown out when a key witness disappeared. Kathryn Gordon underlined the information on the board.
'That was years ago,' Geraldine protested, 'and he wasn't found guilty.'
'Because someone cocked up the prosecution,' Kathryn Gordon replied. She turned to Carter. 'We need to speak to the Honda manager. Find Lakeland and see if he can shed any light on Drew's whereabouts on Wednesday morning.'
'Yes, ma'am.'
No one at the Honda showroom knew where Robert Lakeland's sick mother lived and he wasn't answering his mobile phone. A constable
'Thank you, Nora,' Ron said firmly. 'You can go.' Nora dutifully withdrew.
'But Ron,' she heard Lynda protest, 'she must be hungry.'
'Should've been here on time, then,' came the peremptory reply. Nora retired to the kitchen. Even at that distance she could hear raised voices from the dining room. All that money, and they were never satisfied.
Melanie was seething. Her father never listened to her. He always thought he knew better than everyone else. She hated the school he'd chosen for her, and the college he'd packed her off to had felt more like a prison. Now she was a working adult, her father had to stop thinking he was running her life. She was determined to stay with Terry and prove to her father that he could no longer control her every move.
'You don't even know him,' she fumed. 'You don't know the first thing about him. You think he's only interested in me for my money.'
'Your money?' her father repeated. 'It's not your money, is it?'
Melanie stared at him. 'And what exactly is that supposed to mean?'
'Oh Melanie,' Lynda interrupted with a sigh, 'don't go upsetting your father.'
'Terry doesn't care about your money,' Melanie insisted. 'He's an independent man. He earns his own money, not like some.' She slumped in her chair, biting her lip.
'I'm glad to hear he's not a complete sponger. What does he do?'
'He works in a park. It's a perfectly respectable way to earn a living. Healthy too.' She glared pointedly at her father, who had notoriously indulged in alcohol and drugs in his youth.
'A gardener,' Ron relit his expensive cigar. 'Good for him.'
Melanie pushed her chair back and stood up. 'You never care about what I want, do you?' she grumbled. 'Well, I'm not going to give him up just to make you happy. Why should I? What do you know about love? All you think about is money. What about my happiness?' Ron's eyes slid away from his daughter's face. He nodded at the coffee and Lynda picked up the pot. It shook slightly as she poured.
They all knew Melanie didn't earn enough at the chic art gallery where she worked to fund her extravagant tastes. Ron picked up his coffee and gazed levelly at his daughter over the rim of his cup. His fat cigar smouldered gently in his other hand. Melanie turned to appeal to her mother but Lynda sat immobile and stared at her lap, refusing to take sides.
'See if I care,' Melanie bleated. 'You're nothing but a bully. You think you're a big shot, but you can't buy me.'
'I think we're done here,' Ron Rogers said evenly, indicating the table, but his eyes remained fixed on his daughter. Flicking her long blonde hair off her shoulders with a violent twist of her head, she slammed out of the room and out of the house. She roared off in her Porsche, along the empty road that led back to Terry.
21
Lakeland
The DCI wondered if Heather Spencer could have been mistaken.
'She struck me as a reliable witness, ma'am,' Geraldine said, glancing round the room. Peterson stared at the Incident Board.
'A reliable witness who can't remember anything,' Merton muttered.
'The boyfriend's profile fits,' the DCI said, tapping the board, but she sounded unconvinced. John Drew had previous form. At eighteen he'd been accused of GBH but the trial had been thrown out when a key witness disappeared. Kathryn Gordon underlined the information on the board.
'That was years ago,' Geraldine protested, 'and he wasn't found guilty.'
'Because someone cocked up the prosecution,' Kathryn Gordon replied. She turned to Carter. 'We need to speak to the Honda manager. Find Lakeland and see if he can shed any light on Drew's whereabouts on Wednesday morning.'
'Yes, ma'am.'
No one at the Honda showroom knew where Robert Lakeland's sick mother lived and he wasn't answering his mobile phone. A constable
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