said.
Thorne said, ‘Thank you,’ and took a digestive. The chocolate fingers were already starting to melt.
‘My husband and I got divorced as soon as our youngest went to college,’ she said. Chewing, Thorne looked across at her and she smiled. ‘Stupid really. You stay together because of the kids and then just when they’re all set to head out into the big bad world you make it clear that you’ve actually been unhappy for however many years and they feel terrible. Why do people do that?’
Thorne shrugged. ‘I’ve not got any kids, so…’
‘So, that’s why I’m a Gibbs,’ she said. ‘Went back to my maiden name as soon as we’d separated. In case you were wondering.’
Thorne had already worked it out, but said, ‘OK,’ anyway.
‘I’m Gibbs on the internet,’ she said.
Thorne waited.
‘Internet dating, you know?’ She waved away any comment that he might be about to make, though Thorne had no intention of saying anything. ‘And yes, you do have to watch out for the odd perv or whatever, but there’s hundreds of thousands of people doing it these days, especially if you’re my age and there’s not much chance of meeting anyone at work. I do all the IT at an estate agent’s in town and they’re all about twelve!’
Thorne laughed and she laughed too, and he could feel a trickle of sweat moving behind his ear. Jacqui Gibbs was somewhere in her mid-to-late forties. She was the kind of woman Christine Treasure would have described as ‘milftastic’ and slowed the Fanny Magnet down to get a good look at. If there was any grey in her dark hair she had dyed it out and her jeans and well-cut white shirt accentuated a figure that a woman twenty years younger would have been happy with. Thorne guessed that she would attract rather more ‘pervs’ than she had bargained for.
‘I mean, I’m looking for someone who’s at
least
eighteen!’
Nerves or loneliness? Whatever the reason, it was evident that Jacqui Gibbs wanted to talk. Thorne was happy enough to let her, relieved to see her relaxing a little, though he was keen to get back to the subject of her father and the manner in which he had died. As it was, she did not make him wait very long.
‘He was doing so well, that’s the stupid thing.’ She spoke casually, as if they had been talking about her father’s death the whole time, as though she had not yanked the conversational wheel and veered away on to her search for love, the way her divorce had messed up her kids or the health of her terrier. ‘He was in a right state after Mum went, but that was five years ago now and he’d sorted himself out. There were a few bits and pieces health-wise, course there were… he couldn’t get around as well as he had done and his hearing was definitely getting a lot worse… but he was happy enough.’
‘That’s good,’ Thorne said.
‘No, not happy
enough
. He was happy.’
‘What did you think when you found him like that?’
‘I thought it was… ridiculous,’ she said. ‘It sounds a bit mad, I know, what with the knife and all that, but looking at him lying there, and all that blood… I thought it must have been an accident or something. I mean, all sorts of stupid things go through your head, don’t they?’
‘Course they do,’ Thorne said.
She looked at him. They listened as a car drove slowly past, the low growl and frantic thump of oversized speakers turned up way too loud. Some drum ’n’ bass fanatic on his way to play golf.
‘You said something about “looking at Dad’s death again”.’ Once more she moved her hands on to her knees, the fingers locked around one another. ‘On the phone, that’s what you said. What does that mean exactly?’
This was why Thorne was there and there was no easy way to get into it.
‘Can you think of any reason why someone might want to hurt your father?’
‘Hurt him?’
‘I don’t think it was suicide,’ he said.
‘But I saw him.’
‘I think it was made to
Thorne said, ‘Thank you,’ and took a digestive. The chocolate fingers were already starting to melt.
‘My husband and I got divorced as soon as our youngest went to college,’ she said. Chewing, Thorne looked across at her and she smiled. ‘Stupid really. You stay together because of the kids and then just when they’re all set to head out into the big bad world you make it clear that you’ve actually been unhappy for however many years and they feel terrible. Why do people do that?’
Thorne shrugged. ‘I’ve not got any kids, so…’
‘So, that’s why I’m a Gibbs,’ she said. ‘Went back to my maiden name as soon as we’d separated. In case you were wondering.’
Thorne had already worked it out, but said, ‘OK,’ anyway.
‘I’m Gibbs on the internet,’ she said.
Thorne waited.
‘Internet dating, you know?’ She waved away any comment that he might be about to make, though Thorne had no intention of saying anything. ‘And yes, you do have to watch out for the odd perv or whatever, but there’s hundreds of thousands of people doing it these days, especially if you’re my age and there’s not much chance of meeting anyone at work. I do all the IT at an estate agent’s in town and they’re all about twelve!’
Thorne laughed and she laughed too, and he could feel a trickle of sweat moving behind his ear. Jacqui Gibbs was somewhere in her mid-to-late forties. She was the kind of woman Christine Treasure would have described as ‘milftastic’ and slowed the Fanny Magnet down to get a good look at. If there was any grey in her dark hair she had dyed it out and her jeans and well-cut white shirt accentuated a figure that a woman twenty years younger would have been happy with. Thorne guessed that she would attract rather more ‘pervs’ than she had bargained for.
‘I mean, I’m looking for someone who’s at
least
eighteen!’
Nerves or loneliness? Whatever the reason, it was evident that Jacqui Gibbs wanted to talk. Thorne was happy enough to let her, relieved to see her relaxing a little, though he was keen to get back to the subject of her father and the manner in which he had died. As it was, she did not make him wait very long.
‘He was doing so well, that’s the stupid thing.’ She spoke casually, as if they had been talking about her father’s death the whole time, as though she had not yanked the conversational wheel and veered away on to her search for love, the way her divorce had messed up her kids or the health of her terrier. ‘He was in a right state after Mum went, but that was five years ago now and he’d sorted himself out. There were a few bits and pieces health-wise, course there were… he couldn’t get around as well as he had done and his hearing was definitely getting a lot worse… but he was happy enough.’
‘That’s good,’ Thorne said.
‘No, not happy
enough
. He was happy.’
‘What did you think when you found him like that?’
‘I thought it was… ridiculous,’ she said. ‘It sounds a bit mad, I know, what with the knife and all that, but looking at him lying there, and all that blood… I thought it must have been an accident or something. I mean, all sorts of stupid things go through your head, don’t they?’
‘Course they do,’ Thorne said.
She looked at him. They listened as a car drove slowly past, the low growl and frantic thump of oversized speakers turned up way too loud. Some drum ’n’ bass fanatic on his way to play golf.
‘You said something about “looking at Dad’s death again”.’ Once more she moved her hands on to her knees, the fingers locked around one another. ‘On the phone, that’s what you said. What does that mean exactly?’
This was why Thorne was there and there was no easy way to get into it.
‘Can you think of any reason why someone might want to hurt your father?’
‘Hurt him?’
‘I don’t think it was suicide,’ he said.
‘But I saw him.’
‘I think it was made to
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