“What do you know about Rocky Anderson?” Her father squinted suspiciously.
“Nothing. Doesn’t matter.”
The phone rang again, Laura’s mobile this time, causing them both to jump. She saw that it was Jeremy.
“Yes?”
“Can you come over to my place, Laura? I need you to sit with someone while I pop into work for an hour or so.”
“I’m not a babysitter. Who is it?”
“Michelle Roberts.”
“Oh.” It was on the tip of her tongue to say, “The whistleblower.” but she kept her counsel, mindful of her father’s presence. “Oh, in that case, okay. I’d like to talk to her. I’ll be there in ten minutes, yeah? Bye.”
She turned to her father. “Got to go out. Try not to get embroiled in any gangster business while I’m gone, will you? And don’t, for fuck’s sake, go visiting Cordwainer in hospital. You’ll get photographed.”
“I’m not a bloody fool, Laura.”
“That’s a matter of opinion.” She gave him a glare intended to reduce him to an essence of shame and humiliation before swinging out through the living room door and onward.
“Thanks for this, Lo.” Jeremy grabbed car keys and bag from the hall table, stopping to give Laura a swift peck on the cheek before heading out to the office to file copy and talk to the editor.
Walking into the living room of his flat, Laura discovered a miserable, shivering woman on the couch, sipping at what looked like brandy.
“Hi,” said Laura carelessly, dropping herself down next to Michelle. “Bit early for that, isn’t it?”
“Shocked,” Michelle whispered.
“Oh right. Were you there when Cordwainer was shot, then? You were shagging him, weren’t you? So I heard.”
“I wasn’t…on the boat…was on the quay…heard the shots…”
“Wasn’t you that did it, then? I should think he’s gunning for you, isn’t he? After you told all to Jeremy.”
“No…not me…they say it was the girl…”
“Flipp. Knew she was a wrong ’un.”
“You…know her?”
“Not really. By reputation. Little slut.”
r /> Michelle looked at Laura, her glance shocked at first, then curious.
Laura knew she ought to temper her obvious hatred of Flipp but somehow she found she couldn’t.
“Did you know she’s a married woman? No? Well, she is. Married to some big-time cop in London. I spoke to him on the phone the other day—he told me she was a sex addict with a personality disorder. She’s dangerous, apparently.”
“I…met her. She seemed…nice.”
Laura looked daggers at Michelle, then sat back.
“So you saw what happened. Tell me about it. Was Rocky there?”
“I bumped into them at a campsite—Rocky and Flipp. They were hiding out together, trying to get away from Charles. But the police turned up, and some of Charles’s heavies, so we all tried to get away and ran to the harbour at Bridehaven. Rocky and Flipp were planning to take a friend’s boat over to France. I asked them to take me with them, but Rocky wouldn’t…Anyway, I watched them go down on to the boat. I heard screams and then gunfire, and a man I don’t know came out with Flipp. I think he was a policeman—he had one of those badges. Showed it to the local police when they turned up.”
“Oh, that must be her husband,” breathed Laura, fascinated. “So Cordwainer was shot. But what about Rocky? Where was he?”