fell.’
‘But we both know she didn’t.’
‘My motto is: don’t get involved. Just leads to more grief.’ Her interest in him had waned. Onscreen, the dog-handler was making obvious progress.
‘But you’re her friend . . . you must’ve . . .’ Fox broke off, thinking to himself: you’re her brother, and you didn’t. ‘I’m going to go upstairs, ’ he said instead.
Sandra nodded distractedly. ‘I’d offer to make you a cuppa, but we’re all out.’
The door to Vince’s den was wide open and Fox saw that his computer had been removed by the investigators. Jude’s bedroom door was ajar. He knocked and pushed it all the way open. His sister was sitting on the bed, surrounded by piles of clothes. The fitted wardrobe had been half emptied, along with the chest of drawers. It was all Faulkner’s stuff - his jeans and T-shirts, socks and pants. Jude was holding a short-sleeved shirt in her good hand, working at the cloth with her fingers. She was sniffing back tears.
‘I can still smell him - on the sheets, the pillows . . . Part of him’s still here.’ She paused for a moment and gave her brother a look. ‘Know what they told me, Malcolm? They said we can’t have the funeral. They need to hold on to his body. Might take weeks, they said. Nobody knows how long.’
There was a corner of the bed going spare, so Fox rested his weight there, but stayed silent.
‘Sandra says we need to start cancelling stuff and telling the proper authorities. But what’s left of him after that?’ She sniffed again, and rubbed her forearm across her eyes. ‘They kept asking me all these questions. They think I did it . . .’
‘They don’t.’ Fox assured her, reaching out to give her shoulder a squeeze.
‘That man . . . Giles, his name was . . . he kept on at me about Vince being an abuser - that’s the word he used, “abuser”. He said Vince had past convictions. He said they were for violence. Told me no one would blame me for getting my own back. But that’s not what happened, Malcolm.’
‘Giles knows that, Jude - they all do.’
‘Then why did he keep saying it?’
‘He’s a prick, sis.’
She managed a fleeting smile at this. Fox wasn’t letting go of her shoulder just yet, but she turned to look at his hand. ‘That hurts,’ she explained, and he realised the shoulder belonged to her broken arm.
‘Christ, sorry.’
Another half-smile. ‘There was a nicer detective ... Breck, I think. Yes, because we read that book one holiday when we were kids.’
‘ Kidnapped ,’ Fox reminded her. ‘The hero’s called Alan Breck. You wanted me to read it to you.’
‘At bedtime.’ She nodded, remembering. ‘Every night for two weeks. And now look at us . . .’ She turned to him, tears running down her cheeks. ‘I loved him, Malcolm.’
‘I know.’
She started wiping her tears on the shirt she was holding. ‘I’m not going to cope without him.’
‘Yes, you are . . . trust me. Can I get you anything?’
‘How about a time machine?’
‘Might take a while to build. Sandra says you’re out of tea and coffee - I could go to the shop and fetch some.’
She shook her head. ‘She’s going to bring some back from Asda - says there’s a discount for staff.’
‘She was telling me the four of you used to go to the casino. I never knew you liked a flutter.’
Jude took a deep breath and exhaled. ‘It wasn’t me so much as the other three. I liked the meal and a few drinks . . . They were always good nights.’ She paused. ‘They had people here, you know, rifling through all our stuff. I had to sign for some things they took. It’s why . . .’ She gestured towards the clothes surrounding her. ‘Drawers were already open, so I thought I might as well . . .’
Fox nodded. ‘I’ll leave you to it, if you’re sure there’s nothing I . . .’
‘Does Mitch know?’
‘Yes. I’ve put him off visiting.’
‘I’ll go see him. That would be
‘But we both know she didn’t.’
‘My motto is: don’t get involved. Just leads to more grief.’ Her interest in him had waned. Onscreen, the dog-handler was making obvious progress.
‘But you’re her friend . . . you must’ve . . .’ Fox broke off, thinking to himself: you’re her brother, and you didn’t. ‘I’m going to go upstairs, ’ he said instead.
Sandra nodded distractedly. ‘I’d offer to make you a cuppa, but we’re all out.’
The door to Vince’s den was wide open and Fox saw that his computer had been removed by the investigators. Jude’s bedroom door was ajar. He knocked and pushed it all the way open. His sister was sitting on the bed, surrounded by piles of clothes. The fitted wardrobe had been half emptied, along with the chest of drawers. It was all Faulkner’s stuff - his jeans and T-shirts, socks and pants. Jude was holding a short-sleeved shirt in her good hand, working at the cloth with her fingers. She was sniffing back tears.
‘I can still smell him - on the sheets, the pillows . . . Part of him’s still here.’ She paused for a moment and gave her brother a look. ‘Know what they told me, Malcolm? They said we can’t have the funeral. They need to hold on to his body. Might take weeks, they said. Nobody knows how long.’
There was a corner of the bed going spare, so Fox rested his weight there, but stayed silent.
‘Sandra says we need to start cancelling stuff and telling the proper authorities. But what’s left of him after that?’ She sniffed again, and rubbed her forearm across her eyes. ‘They kept asking me all these questions. They think I did it . . .’
‘They don’t.’ Fox assured her, reaching out to give her shoulder a squeeze.
‘That man . . . Giles, his name was . . . he kept on at me about Vince being an abuser - that’s the word he used, “abuser”. He said Vince had past convictions. He said they were for violence. Told me no one would blame me for getting my own back. But that’s not what happened, Malcolm.’
‘Giles knows that, Jude - they all do.’
‘Then why did he keep saying it?’
‘He’s a prick, sis.’
She managed a fleeting smile at this. Fox wasn’t letting go of her shoulder just yet, but she turned to look at his hand. ‘That hurts,’ she explained, and he realised the shoulder belonged to her broken arm.
‘Christ, sorry.’
Another half-smile. ‘There was a nicer detective ... Breck, I think. Yes, because we read that book one holiday when we were kids.’
‘ Kidnapped ,’ Fox reminded her. ‘The hero’s called Alan Breck. You wanted me to read it to you.’
‘At bedtime.’ She nodded, remembering. ‘Every night for two weeks. And now look at us . . .’ She turned to him, tears running down her cheeks. ‘I loved him, Malcolm.’
‘I know.’
She started wiping her tears on the shirt she was holding. ‘I’m not going to cope without him.’
‘Yes, you are . . . trust me. Can I get you anything?’
‘How about a time machine?’
‘Might take a while to build. Sandra says you’re out of tea and coffee - I could go to the shop and fetch some.’
She shook her head. ‘She’s going to bring some back from Asda - says there’s a discount for staff.’
‘She was telling me the four of you used to go to the casino. I never knew you liked a flutter.’
Jude took a deep breath and exhaled. ‘It wasn’t me so much as the other three. I liked the meal and a few drinks . . . They were always good nights.’ She paused. ‘They had people here, you know, rifling through all our stuff. I had to sign for some things they took. It’s why . . .’ She gestured towards the clothes surrounding her. ‘Drawers were already open, so I thought I might as well . . .’
Fox nodded. ‘I’ll leave you to it, if you’re sure there’s nothing I . . .’
‘Does Mitch know?’
‘Yes. I’ve put him off visiting.’
‘I’ll go see him. That would be
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