Page 12 of Cover Story

‘Unfortunately, I think that’s a non-starter. If I start cold calling his former flings, someone alerts Glenn very fast. They’d not even need to care about him to do it: they’ll panic, ask him what he knows about it, and what to do.’

‘Ugh, yes, I see that. Shit. There’s me falling at the first hurdle of moving undetected.’ Ian looked queasy again. ‘Also, it occurs to me that if he realises a journalist is on to him, he might well put the pieces together. Right now he doesn’t think Erin’s toldme, but that would change quickly if he was looking for a newly made nemesis.’

‘He’s not untouchable,’ Bel said. ‘It only feels like he is. That’s what he wants you to think and why he went full Mob Boss on your niece. He’s the one who’s vulnerable to a huge takedown, not her.’

In the quiet moment that followed, a large crow alighted on a headstone nearby and commenced a creepy, plaintive cawing, as if admonishing them, startling them both.

‘This must be the soul of someone one of us knows, any suggestions?’ Ian said.

‘I’m going with my Aunt Tamara,’ she said. ‘I’m surprised it isn’t smoking an Embassy Regal.’

Ian smiled broadly.

‘I’m glad I pulled myself together and met you.’

The crow looked at them and took flight, and Bel felt quite strongly at that second that there might be a God. She didn’t know if He or She had passed judgement on her, but they were definitely, in the parlance of Aaron Parry, fucking with her a little.

They swapped numbers and Ian agreed to download Signal. ‘Safer than WhatsApp,’ Bel said. ‘I’m going to come up with a place we can meet with seating.’

He glanced back at the headstones.

‘Detective Caminada used to use a pew at the Hidden Gem church to meet informers. You could whisper while looking like you were praying.’

‘That’s brilliant! But we might get bollocked for iPhone sounds and disturbing the reverential atmosphere. I was thinking more an out-of-the-way greasy spoon where we could meet early, before work?’

‘Your plan involves sausages, so you win.’

Bel beamed, encouragingly.

‘Is this how it usually works?’ Ian said, sheepishly. ‘Trek out to be told I might have a story for you, but you can’t tell it?’

‘Every story is different, it’s why I love my job,’ Bel said.

‘Diplomatic, I like it,’ Ian said, with a bark of laughter, and Bel sensed he’d started trusting her. ‘Apologies, everyone,’ Ian said, glancing around at the headstones.

‘Where does Glenn think you are now?’ Bel said.

‘Oh, I’m on long-booked annual leave! What better way to spend it? I’ve tried very hard to stay positive and normal.’

‘Keep that up. I’ll be in touch,’ Bel said to Ian, extending her hand to shake, with the uncanny sense of their having witnesses.

8

Connor had just taken his seat at the Polish restaurant when he slipped his handset out of his pocket and saw the iconic HAVE A NICE LIFE message ping in from Jen on his WhatsApp.

Can you pick up?! Your brother’s on my case. No one’s dead (except you, if you keep not picking up)

Seriously Con, where are you to have your phone turned off this long?

He made his excuses to Aaron and Bel, whom he suspected thought he was being London-grand or a deliberate saboteur of the occasion, or both.

‘I have to make a phone call. Can you get me a …’ he twitched the menu, ‘Zywiec? Sorry,’ he said.

‘Pronounced Jhuv-ee-etch not Zwetch! Sure,’ Aaron said, as the ever-jovial antagonist.

‘One of those, yes.’

The restaurant was of the easy-going, rowdy variety: open kitchen, wooden chairs and tables and a jungle of artificial plants dangling above their heads. It was the modern hipster way, andyet strongly reminded Connor of Disneyland’s Rainforest Café in Florida from when he was a kid. Just add piped-in cicada chirruping.

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