‘It would be with me, don’t you think, if I had a dog?’ Maggie turns to look at the Dalmatian, fast asleep on the back seat. The Raggedy Ann doll, sniffed out and claimed by the dog before the two of them had even got back over the fence, is just visible beneath its head. ‘I’m glad Daisy is OK.’
Sandra pulls over to let another car pass. ‘I came here today to talk to you,’ she says. ‘I didn’t want to come to your house, I didn’t want to intrude, so I thought I’d wait for you at the beach. And then Daisy ran off just before you arrived. It all nearly went so horribly wrong.’
Maggie fixes her gaze straight ahead. ‘The road’s clear,’ she says.
‘I drove over this morning,’ Sandra says before she’s even changed gear. ‘And yesterday morning too. I watched your car pull out of your drive. I guessed you were coming here. And that you come at high tide.’
To have made that guess, the woman must have been watching her for more than two days, has probably followed her here before now.
‘What did you want to talk to me about?’ They are almost at the main road. She can walk from here, if necessary.
‘I’ve read all your books.’ Sandra is breathing heavily, as though walking at speed, not driving a car along a country lane. ‘Someone sent me three of them, about six months ago. A well-wisher, I never did find out who. I bought the others.’
‘Thank you.’ It will take between ten and fifteen minutes to get home from this point. Longer if she is forced to walk.
‘I enjoyed them. Is enjoyed the right word? I’m not sure. I found them interesting. You make a good argument. They were readable. Not too much technical stuff. And you go easy on the gore, and the violence.’
‘Readers usually choose crime fiction for the gratuitous violence,’ Maggie says.
‘Are you working on another one?’
‘Always.’
‘I don’t suppose you’re allowed to say what it’s about? I mean, who it’s about?’
‘I’m allowed to do whatever I like. But I choose not to talk about work in progress, I’m afraid.’
‘You’re obviously wondering why I’m going on like this.’
‘Actually, I’m wondering how you found out where I live.’
Sandra slows to take a corner. When she is back on the straight she glances over. ‘I’m Sandra Wolfe,’ she says.
For a second, the two women stare at each other. ‘Hamish’s mother,’ Sandra adds, unnecessarily.
‘This is Hamish’s dog.’ Maggie looks round at the motionless animal. ‘Of course. I remember a photograph of the two of them together. It was used a lot while the trial was ongoing.’
‘His defence team thought it would be the most sympathetic. Hamish with his beloved dog. Not that it made any difference.’
‘Her name is Daisy?’
‘My son wrote to you. Four times. I know you saw the letters. He showed me your replies.’
‘How did you get my address?’
Sandra’s chin has the stubborn set of someone who knows she’s in the wrong but won’t back down. ‘Someone found it for me. I promised I wouldn’t say who exactly. Please don’t worry. I wouldn’t dream of invading your privacy. That’s why I waited to talk to you at the beach.’
‘One could argue this is a greater invasion. At home I could close the door on you. All I can do now is wait until you drive me home.’
They’ve reached the main road. Sandra applies the handbrake.
‘Miss Rose, my son is innocent. He isn’t a killer. I know him.’
Maggie wraps her arms around herself. The cold is starting to hurt. ‘I’m sure you believe that, but do you imagine any mother of a convicted killer says anything different? The traffic is usually heavy here at this time of day. You need to be careful.’
They pull out into the path of a yellow car.
‘He was with me the night Zoe Sykes was killed.’ Sandra ignores the angry horn. ‘We had dinner, I drove him home. He couldn’t have killed her, so it follows he didn’t kill the others, doesn’t it? All four women were killed by the same man, so if Hamish didn’t kill one of them, he couldn’t have killed the others.’
They cross the village boundary. Less than five minutes to Maggie’s house. ‘I’m afraid I know very little about the case.’
‘The police didn’t believe me. They thought I was lying. The restaurant couldn’t help. There was no CCTV footage. The staff couldn’t remember, but I know he was with me. He didn’t kill that Sykes woman.’
‘And yet a jury believed that he did.’
‘Have you ever been in a prison, Miss Rose?’
‘Yes, many times.’
‘Then you know what it’s like. Decent people, people like Hamish, they can’t survive in prison. The stench and the violence and the endless noise. He’s not known a moment of silence since he was convicted.’
‘Then the best thing you can do for him is keep him well supplied with ear plugs.’
Sandra flinches. ‘There was a fight on his corridor just yesterday. They pick on him all the time. Every day he’s in fear for his life.’
‘Why me?’
‘I’m sorry?’