Odi risks glancing up at Sandra. She has tears in her eyes. ‘We have enough hassle from the police as it is. They’d have said we were too far away, that it could have been anyone exploring the cave, of course they’d be carrying equipment. It wasn’t necessarily anything to do with Myrtle.’
‘And another thing – when Odi saw what she did, we had no idea it would mean anything.’ Broon has raised his voice. ‘I’m not sure we even knew about the missing women. Or Hamish’s arrest. We don’t take The Times every day. This was weeks before Myrtle’s body was found.’
‘And by the time you knew it could be significant, more time had passed, your memory wasn’t that clear anyway.’ Maggie looks across at Sandra. ‘You mustn’t blame Odi. The chances are a good prosecution barrister would have made mincemeat of her on the witness stand. If the defence even thought she was credible enough to put up in the first place.’
‘But—’
Maggie turns away from Sandra, cutting her off. ‘Where were you, Odi? When you saw this person?’
‘We were higher up the gorge. In Gossam Cave. We often sleep in it if the weather isn’t too bad. Lots of travellers use the caves in summer. I just thought it was someone spending the night.’
Maggie gives the other woman what she hopes is a reassuring smile. ‘Most likely it was.’
‘But—’ Sandra is barely able to keep her seat.
‘On the other hand, if it was Myrtle whom you saw, then the person carrying her couldn’t have been Hamish, because he’d already been remanded in custody.’
‘Exactly.’ Sandra is standing, Daisy whimpering at her side. ‘Odi, we’re going to the police. We’re going now. I’ll drive you.’
‘No.’ Odi jumps to her feet, Broon copying her a second later. He follows his girlfriend from the room.
‘So what do you think?’ Shiven asks again. ‘Will you take the case on?’
Maggie looks round at the group. At the people who are here out of a sense of drama, at those who are looking for a cause – any cause. At those who come because it is something to do once a month, because it lets them kid themselves they have friends.
‘I’m sorry,’ she says. ‘I can’t help you. There is nothing here for me to work with. I’ll let you get on with your meeting.’
Maggie reverses away from the building, slowly, because the area is dark and she can’t quite remember what is behind her. As she switches gear, the passenger door opens, letting cold, wet air fly into the car. The wild-haired, dark-eyed woman, Sirocco, climbs in and pulls the door shut.
Close up, there is an intensity to her face that is unnerving, and yet in spite of the coarse skin, the heavy make-up, she has a beauty that Maggie hadn’t noticed in the clubhouse. Her dark eyes are wide and clear, her cheekbones high, her jawline clean. She stares straight at Maggie. ‘I’m sorry about having a go at you. I know you’re only trying to help.’
Maggie pulls on the handbrake. ‘Actually, I’m not. I would only ever have got involved if I thought it was worth my while. You have no need to apologize to me.’
‘People say if anyone can get him out, you can. You have to try. He can’t stay in there. He needs people on his side.’
Maggie glances back over her shoulder. ‘He seems to have quite a few people on his side.’
Sirocco makes a dismissive gesture. ‘You think that lot know, or care, whether he did it or not? Sandra doesn’t care how many women he’s killed, she just wants her baby out of prison. The rest don’t give a monkey’s, they go along with it all because it gives some meaning to their sad little lives. If Hamish walked through the door at one of these stupid meetings, they’d probably all run screaming like kids frightened of a bogeyman.’
In spite of her annoyance, there is something about the image that tickles Maggie. ‘If the rest of them are here for the glamour, what’s motivating you?’
‘I told you, I love him. He loves me. Hamish and I are soulmates, born to be together.’
‘Even though you’ve never met?’ The woman is a fruitcake. Hopefully, given that they are alone, a harmless one.
‘You don’t know that. You only know what Sandra told you.’
‘Sirocco, this is all very well, but it’s getting late, and I have another appointment to get to. So, unless you have something of substance to tell me, I’m going to have to ask you to get out of my car.’
‘Give me a lift to Minehead town centre, we can talk on the way.’
‘Certainly not. Please get out of my car.’
Sirocco sits back in the passenger seat, arms folded, her body language saying she is going nowhere. Maggie can see the other woman’s face in the dark mirror of the windscreen. Their eyes meet in the reflection. Oh, what the hell? Maggie starts the engine.
‘Actually, I live a few miles the other side of Minehead, where are you heading for?’
‘Minehead town centre, and you get out without argument or I call the police.’ The barrier is up and Maggie drives out of the park, narrowly avoiding two people who are walking, hand in hand, down the road. Both are carrying large backpacks. She takes her foot off the accelerator.