‘Maybe.’
I intended to send the cheque back to Hathaway’s with Opened in error written across the envelope. If they wanted to contact the police, so be it. Telling Frank wouldn’t be doing anyone any favours, least of all him.
‘D’you think he was right?’ he asked.
‘About what?’
‘Everything I touch turning to shit.’
‘Most people would give their right arm for the kind of success you’ve had.’
‘You know what he meant.’
‘You’re not responsible for Harry’s death. I know that.’
At least I thought I did. Frank had corralled the spilt sugar lumps into a small pile. He scattered them back over the plastic tablecloth with a flick of his hand.
‘If I’d got to know her better, she might still be here.’
‘That’s complete rubbish.’
The man arrived and placed two mugs on the table. ‘We close in ten minutes,’ he said. ‘Just so you know.’
‘You can stay open half an hour later,’ Frank replied.
‘I decide when this place closes, mate. And I need to cash up, so I’d appreciate you paying your bill.’ Frank pulled out a wallet and extracted a fifty. ‘Ain’t you got nothing smaller?’
‘Keep the change.’
‘Seriously?’
Frank nodded and the man went to take the note. Frank folded first one hand around his fingers and then the other. He squeezed. A grimace of pain spread across the guy’s pinched features. His knees buckled slightly.
‘You’re open until eight,’ Frank said. ‘Got that?’ The waiter nodded. Frank applied more pressure. ‘You sure?’
Another nod and Frank released his hand. The guy scuttled back to his counter like a wounded animal. Frank took out a phone, pressed a single digit and held it to his ear.
‘I’m in a cafe on Skipton Street,’ he said, then looked at me. ‘What’s this shithole called?’
‘The Wise Owl.’ Frank relayed the information and added that whoever he was talking to should get there as soon as possible. ‘Farrelly?’ I asked.
‘Don’t worry. He’s under control.’
Frank laid his phone on the table. Colour had returned to his cheeks. The incident with the waiter had gone some way to restoring the natural order of things.
‘Have the police said anything else about Harry?’ I asked.
‘Nope. To be honest, I think the wankers have got me pegged as a suspect.’
‘What makes you think that?’
‘They interviewed me about where I was when she was murdered.’
‘It’s procedure, Frank.’ He grunted. ‘They’ve probably done the same with Roger. Have you seen him recently?’
‘He’s had to stay in Birmingham late. But he’s asked to meet me first thing tomorrow morning. Something he wants to talk about.’
‘D’you know what?’
‘Probably just a debrief about the clients he’s seen. Hardly a priority right now, but I don’t want to upset Rog after what’s happened to his sister.’
If Roger intended to keep his promise about leaking the memo, then Frank was the person whose nose would be put out of joint.
‘I made a twat out of myself in there, didn’t I?’ he said.
‘Maybe you should see a grief counsellor.’
‘Do I seem like I’m losing the plot?’
‘You did go a bit overboard in Callum’s office.’
‘All I wanted to do was have a chat. That bitch on reception started pissing me around and suddenly my blood’s up.’
‘Truda can have that effect.’
Frank sat back heavily in his chair. ‘Who am I kidding?’ he said. ‘I was pissed off because of this business with the Post and I needed to take it out on someone.’
‘I heard you’d pulled out of the deal.’
‘Told to pull out.’
‘By whom?’
Frank gave me a lop-sided smile. ‘Let’s just say that it was made clear to me that certain people in high office would prefer it if Lord Kirkleys’ bid was allowed to proceed unopposed.’
‘Which people in high office?’
‘No idea. You just get some call from a junior minister passing on some information he got from a slightly-less-junior minister who got it from fuck knows where. Bottom line is that you need to understand which way the wind’s blowing.’
‘Or what?’
‘Life’s made difficult. Your tax situation is heavily scrutinised and your credit dries up at the bank. There’s a raid on your warehouse and a couple of blokes on the night shift turn out to be illegals. Or it might be any one of a dozen pains in the arse you could do without in your life.’
‘Seriously?’
‘If you think you live in a free society, Kenny, think again.’
‘You should say something?’
‘All people will reckon is I’m bitter or I’ve got a screw loose. And the pendulum swings both ways. Now I’ve fallen in line, a few nice things will start occurring.’
‘Such as?’
‘I’ll be included in the New Year Honours list, or receive a surprise development grant from the DTI. Watch this space, basically.’
‘You’re not happy about the situation, though?’
‘Course I’m not. That’s why I went in to see Callum half-cocked.’ Frank rubbed the side of his neck thoughtfully. ‘Reckon he was serious about me killing Harry?’
‘He just wanted to piss you off.’ I took my first and last sip of lukewarm tea. ‘Frank, could what happened to Harry have been some kind of warning?’
He considered the point before responding.
‘No one’s gonna do something like that over who owns a fucking paper. And besides, there’s been no message before or afterwards. It wouldn’t make any sense. No, Kenny, some toerag killed Harry for kicks. And, one way or another, they’re going to get what’s coming to ’em. Speaking of which . . .’
‘Nothing to report,’ I said. ‘Although I did visit the journalist who wrote about your plans to relocate the Post.’
‘Why?’
‘I had a tip-off she was working on a big story and I wondered if it might have something to do with Harry?’ Frank looked even more bewildered. ‘Journalists do lots of background research,’ I explained. ‘Often they turn up stuff they think isn’t relevant, but might be to someone else.’
‘If you say so. Did she have anything like that?’
‘She wasn’t home, so I took a quick look round.’
Frank’s eyebrows rose. ‘And?’
I took out the photocopied article and laid it before Frank. He picked it up, scrutinised it for a few moments and replaced it on the table.
‘D’you remember April?’ I asked.
‘Why would I?’
‘You had an affair with her.’
The older of the two chess players flipped the board over, stood up and walked out of the cafe. The kid in the hoodie shook his head and gathered the pieces. He tucked these and the board into his rucksack, and followed suit.
‘Did April tell you that?’ Frank asked.
‘No. I saw the two of you in a restaurant. It was obvious what was going on.’
‘But you didn’t mention it?’ I shook my head. Frank’s gaze dropped back down to the photograph. ‘It was a long time ago,’ he said softly.
‘Near on forty years.’
‘Did you find anything else?’