‘Yeah, and it was then that I saw the case.’
‘The case?’
‘Yeah, under the bed. It was one of those old yokes, you know, with the locks that snap.’
‘An attaché case?’
‘Whatever. Anyhow, I pulled it out and opened the thing up.’
‘And?’
‘And that’s when I got the biggest surprise of all.’
Ollie kept his face neutral, but he felt like rattling Hughes to get him to spit it out. He clenched his fists and kept his eyes on Hughes, eager now to know what Cronly could have hidden away in his room.
Hughes leaned forward and took great delight in drawing out the story. ‘The case, it was filled with all girls’ stuff. You know, ribbons, earrings, even a small chain, all that kind of shit.’
‘So maybe it belonged to someone else?’
‘Who the fuck else would put that kind of stuff under yer man’s bed?’
‘I don’t know, nothing as queer as folk, as they say.’
‘Exactly, you’ve put your finger on what I was thinking. I reckon yer man’s a fag. The kind that likes to dress up as well.’
Ollie sighed deeply. ‘So you came all the way over here to disturb me just to tell me that? I don’t give a flying feck if the man is gay. I couldn’t care less.’
‘Nah, you haven’t heard everything.’
‘Jaysus, Hughes, less of the bleeding drip feed, will you.’
‘Stop interrupting me then.’
‘Oh I see, the man drinks my whiskey and I can’t even talk. Is that it?’
‘Shut up, Ollie, I’m trying to tell you about the photo.’
‘The photo?’
‘Yeah. And do you know who was in the photo?’
‘Obviously I haven’t a fecking clue,’ Ollie said through gritted teeth.
‘Well I’m not one hundred per cent sure, which is why I came over here with it.’
‘You took it with you? You stole it out of his house?’
‘I can bring it back as easy as I took it away.’
‘Christ, Hughes, you don’t make things easy for yourself. Go on, so, give me a look at it.’
Ollie had one long look at the image. Even though it was faded, he had no doubt who was in the photograph. There were some faces you couldn’t forget.
‘Well, is it who I think it is?’ Hughes asked eagerly. ‘That girl who got burned in the fire here?’
‘You might well be right there, Steve, but it’s a long time ago. I reckon the best thing you can do is put that photograph right back where you found it, and fast. You don’t want yer man on your case about breaking and entering now do you?’
‘Yeah, I know all that crap. But why do you think he has a photo of a dead girl? It’s weird, isn’t it?’
‘She isn’t dead in the photograph. Maybe he just came across it, maybe there’s any number of explanations. But either way it’s not your property, so there’s no call for you to be taking up my hospitality.’
Steve kept staring at the Polaroid. ‘I think it’s fishy.’
‘Yeah, I heard you the first time.’
‘Come on, Ollie. You must have a theory. Why do you think he has it?’
There was no way Ollie Gilmartin was going to sit and discuss the dead girl with the likes of Steve Hughes. He wanted him gone so he could think this through. ‘It beats the hell out of me, Hughes, but it’s none of our business. Now off home with ya, while I have some patience left.’
Meadow View
HE HAD ALMOST FORGOTTEN ABOUT THE PEARL earring he’d taken from Kate’s bedroom until he noticed it on the hall table. The postcard was still safe inside his jacket pocket, but in his excitement he’d omitted to put away his small treasure. On impulse, he put it back in his pocket, beside the card. He headed out into the late afternoon feeling more upbeat than ever. His mind returned to Kate’s house and the packed suitcase, which he felt sure belonged to the husband. Did it represent an opportunity he should act upon?