Page 31 of Glasshouses

“This might not work. It’s a cold case and the victims were male.” I gave her a rundown of the old case, not giving anything away about the current one. “It might come to nothing; the daughter was convicted, but I’m not sure that was the right outcome.”

She put her phone away and twisted towards me. “A miscarriage of justice?”

“Maybe. I really don’t know. We’re understaffed and the case had a lot of loose ends. You can ask questions that I can’t.”

Darcy untied her hair, smoothing it back down. She was only ten years younger than me and it felt like three generations. “What do I get out of it?”

“I’ll do another podcast, and give you the heads up with an exclusive next time I can.” The podcast would be a pain, but the exclusive wasn’t. Darcy was about as honest a journalist as you could get, which was why she’d probably never make the final cut. She’d proven that she could hold onto information and she reported fairly.

But everyone had a price.

“Okay. I’m basically working as a free member of staff for you.”

“Kind of.”

“There’s more to this, isn’t there?”

I nodded. “Potentially. Will you do your noseying?”

“I can do it while I’m eating out. Give me something to do other than checking out dating apps. For such a big city, there are no datable men.”

“I know exactly what you mean. Do you need any more information from me?”

“Nope. Unless you want to tell me anymore. I can already see a cold case story on this. Where’s the girl now?”

“I’m not sure.” Which was true; Lily could be doing her shopping for all I knew.

Darcy rolled her eyes and left the bench. “Well, I have a lunch date with myself. I’ll message you when I have anything that looks interesting.”

“Thank you, and don’t do anything dangerous.”

She laughed. “Just living is dangerous these days. I test every drink I’m served if I’m eating or drinking out. You never know if you’re going to be a victim.”

Her words rang in my head as I walked back to the Fishbowl. Had Micky and Amanda been worried about something? She could’ve been at his house to swap food, or it could’ve been something else. We knew he had paperwork in the cellar; we also knew there was no paperwork or signs of working from home at Amanda’s.

Our floor was busier than before; heads staring at computers; someone giving a very knackered looking Vinny a coffee; one of the other DIs, was giving a couple of DCs a talking to. I sat down at my desk, intending to go back to the Mayhew fire files, my phone starting to buzz.

“DS McAllister.” I answered without checking who it was.

“DS Mia?” The voice was female and panicking. “It’s Lily Mayhew. Someone’s just threw a brick through my window and I don’t know what to do!”

Lachy and I got there before uniform and CSI, which wasn’t surprising given that Lachy decided to play with the sirens on our unmarked car, making mincemeat of the Manchester traffic.

Lily was waiting outside of her house when we arrived, her arms wrapped around herself like she was a child. She was pale, wearing the same clothes as when we were there just a couple of hours ago.

“Mia!” She unhuddled and crept over to me. We’d parked outside her house this time; a brick through a window would be discussed by the neighbours.

I let it go that she hadn’t used my title.

“I’ve been so afraid – what if they come back?” She was flustered, moving her arms constantly, out of freeze mode and now utterly dysregulated.

“Unlikely. They’d know you’d call the police.” A police car pulled up behind ours. I recognised the first cop to get out of it. “Which window did it go through?”

“The back window into the kitchen. They must’ve been in the garden.” She pressed her hands together in a prayer position. “What will I do? Where will I sleep tonight? What are my neighbours going to think?” Her hands flipped to her sides and she shook them.

“Okay, I need you to follow my instructions. Can you do that?” I wasn’t a therapist, but I had enough knowledge for this.

Lily nodded, her eyes not moving from me.