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‘There’s something else. The gamekeeper at the estate is Angus Radford’s maternal grandfather, Wallis Collie.’
‘OK, that’s it. Stop talking.’
‘This has to be investigated,’ I say.
‘OK. But be quiet. Let me think.’
‘You’re scared of Buchan.’
Carlson loses his temper. ‘No, I’m careful and methodical because I’m a professional investigator, not some amateur, poor man’s Poirot, who randomly hurls criminal accusations at politicians and public figures. How did you ever get a job with the police?’
‘You’re right,’ I say to Carlson. ‘I’m a liability. Thanks for cutting me loose.’
I hang up and sit in silence, gazing at the countryside. Florence and Evie have been listening.
‘How could they let Radford go?’ asks Evie.
‘Without Arben, the case against him has fallen apart,’ says Florence.
‘But the messages . . . his statement?’
‘It’s not over,’ I say. ‘He’s on bail, that’s all. They’ll find more evidence.’
In the meantime, we need to leave, but I don’t relish the idea of driving eight hours back to Nottingham, and Evie isn’t in the right mindset to share the wheel. Florence must be exhausted.
‘When was the last time you slept?’ I ask her.
‘I’m fine.’
‘No, you need a shower and a decent meal and a comfortable bed.’
‘Do I smell that bad?’
‘I love how you smell.’
‘Ugh!’ grunts Evie.
‘Aberdeen is less than an hour away. We could find a nice hotel and rest up,’ I say.
‘With a restaurant,’ says Evie.
‘And a bath,’ says Florence.
‘And a bar,’ I add.
24
Cyrus
Two hours later, we are gathered around a table, with damp hair, clean clothes, and menus in hand. The motel is four stars, in a leafy area away from the granite heart of Aberdeen. My Fiat is parked several streets away in a multi-storey car park, alongside Florence’s Kawasaki.
‘You didn’t have to get me my own room,’ says Florence, who breaks a bread roll. ‘I would have shared with Evie . . . or with you.’
Evie makes a gagging sound and Florence laughs. Her phone is ringing. She wants to ignore it but notices the name.
‘Simon Buchan,’ she whispers. ‘He’s never called me.’
She takes the phone outside. A waitress tops up my wine glass. Evie is on lemonade – still vowing to ‘never drink again’.
