‘So are you here for Christmas?’ he says. ‘Got family coming?’
She smiles as though she knows he’s fishing. ‘I don’t have a family. And Christmas is when I get most of my work done. I’ll probably have Hamish’s case cracked by the new year.’
She puts a casserole dish on top of the Aga and takes plates from a second oven. ‘There’s a list on the dresser behind you,’ she tells him.
He turns around. The list is typewritten. Industrial estates. Beside each name are the contact details of a letting agent.
‘Not sure what you want me to do with this.’ He puts it back on the dresser.
‘You know exactly what I want you to do with it. Phone the letting agents. Ask the questions. Produce a second list of possibilities and consult with me.’
‘Since when did I become your unpaid gofer?’
She says, ‘Are we just haggling about money now?’
‘No. No money. No dogsbodying. I’m not doing it.’ Even as he speaks he reflects that, come mid morning tomorrow, after he’s filled Latimer in, he could easily be doing it.
‘No big deal. I’ll get through them all myself. Shall I let you know when I’m ready to start viewing? We’re probably talking after Christmas now, of course.’
The new idea makes him smile. ‘That’s why you need me onside with this. Anything you find won’t be admissible. You need me to carry out an official search.’
The house phone starts ringing. At first Maggie looks up, startled, telling him she doesn’t normally receive phone calls at this hour. Before she can pick up, the answerphone kicks in. They both recognize the voice instantly. Deep, educated but bruised, somehow, and with a faint hint of the West Country.
‘Maggie, it’s Hamish. I need you to pick up right now.’
Chapter 53
‘MAGGIE, PICK UP. Pete, I know you’re there. Come on, you both need to hear this.’
Maggie feels her face drain. ‘He’s messing with us. Leave it.’
‘Pete, I have less than four minutes to make this call, I’ve jumped a queue of a dozen other guys and I really don’t want to dwell on what that’s going to cost me. Now fucking well pick up.’
Pete stands, grabs the phone and switches on the loudspeaker. ‘What do you want, Wolfe?’
Wolfe says, ‘My cellmate just got back from computer class. There is a Facebook page you need to look at. Search for Hamish Wolfe. Come on, do it.’
Maggie spins her laptop around and types in the password.
‘It’s a community page,’ Wolfe is saying. ‘That support group my mother belongs to set it up. Someone posted about Maggie being appointed my lawyer and the abuse is piling up.’
‘Hardly a first,’ Maggie opens up Facebook. ‘It happens every time I take on a new client.’
‘Yeah, well, when was the last time someone posted your address and a photograph of your house on there?’
‘Shit.’ Pete comes to join her at the table.
The page appears, showing the usual pictures of Hamish looking like a Hollywood actor hired to play a serial killer. There is a series of posts from the public and, right at the top, a photograph of Maggie under the headline Top Lawyer Takes on Wolfe Case.
‘Where did they get that photograph? No one has my photograph.’ It is a snapshot. Maggie can’t place the location. Her face is half in profile but her hair is unmistakable, both the colour and length it is now. This picture is less than a year old.
‘I haven’t seen it yet.’ Wolfe is still on the line. ‘But I understand there’s another group called Vengeance for Myrtle. Started by Myrtle Reid’s stepfather and a couple of her brothers. Their aim is to get me castrated and blinded while they come up with something that will really teach me a lesson. From what Phil tells me, Vengeance for Myrtle published Maggie’s address on this page and they claim they have her phone number too. They’ve been posting threats all evening. My group are taking them down and blocking the trolls as soon as posts appear but the one with her address was shared several times before anyone spotted it. The information’s out there. Yeah, OK, mate, I’m coming. Just back off, will you? Fucking—!’
There is the sound of slamming, a breathless grunt. Maggie grabs the phone from Pete. ‘Hamish?’
The line has gone dead.
Somewhere in the room is the pinging sound of a text message being received.
Pete takes the receiver from her and replaces it. ‘He can look after himself. Go and lock the back door, check the others and then it would be really great if we could eat.’ He nods at her laptop screen. ‘I’ll have a look through this.’
It doesn’t take Maggie long to check security on her house. When she’s done, she carries the casserole dish to the table. Without looking up, Pete moves the laptop to free up a mat and she wonders at his ability to always be in the right place at the right time, to know what is needed and to do it, without being asked.