Page 21 of Cover Story

Bel had it filed away for when something resurfaced, because one thing she knew for sure, men like Glenn Bailey didn’t stop.

She’d ingested so much about the Mayor now, consumed so many newspaper reports and such a ton of social media, she felt less like an amateur sleuth and more like an obsessive fan. They were in a parasocial relationship.

Great day meeting the staff and patients at Wythenshawe Hospital

Pint of the 0% black stuff! Thanks to The Freemount. Much needed *shamrock emoji*

Honoured to be asked to cut the ribbon on this new sports centre which will be a fabulous resource for Heaton Park

When you re-elected me I pledged to address the rise in antisocial behaviour around Piccadilly Gardens

This refuge’s work is vital for women and children fleeing domestic abuse

Every time, Bel squinted at the weathered, lean, trustworthy face beneath streaky, strawberry blonde hair, and tried to put it together with a man who told a twenty-four-year-old intern he’d kept her nudes as blackmail.

14

Bel was aware that shifting from the acoustics of a cemetery to the highly confined space of the Happy Valley café could seem illogical, if not reckless. It only had about two dozen covers and was one of those tiny ‘food people finds’ that trainspotter bloggers would make a special trek out for. Its clientele was ninety-five per cent local fans and curious passersby, and five per cent restaurant bloggers taking flat lay photos of spam and cheesy fries.

Its privacy was not in its social distancing, but in location and relative obscurity. When Bel entered and saw every other customer on this early evening service was Chinese, she felt confident she was right: the probability of a surprise encounter was very low.

She was shown a table, ordered a ‘milk tea with red bean’ and waited for Ian. Only when he was fifteen minutes late did she consider he might be a no-show: except, she was absolutely certain Ian was determined to see this through if he could.

Bel couldn’t help it, her storyteller’s brain spooled forward to discovering he’d met with an untimely and accidental end: what would she do?Get a grip! You’re not a bit part in a major new Apple TV drama for the autumn, Macauley.

All the same, Bel was pleased and relieved when he hurried in, with apologies about having been unused to the traffic snarlin this direction. He seemed anxious at the four walls, but Bel soothed him: ‘Look around. No one’s interested in us.’

They ordered deep fried chicken and beef ho fun and, with a sense of theatre, Ian waited until the food had arrived and their cutlery was in their hands. After a safety glance at their indifferent company, he began, after a deep breath and in a low voice:

‘So. He took Erin to a house. Have you heard of a local businesswoman called Gloria Kendrick?’

‘No, but I’m only recently in Manchester, as I said.’

‘OK. She’s a property entrepreneur, reputation for ruthlessness, stinking rich. Lives out at Alderley Edge. Gloria is a friend, an ex-girlfriend of Glenn’s going back to their college years. You can trace a lot of the most scummy, badly maintained rental housing in this city back to portfolios she’s offloaded for millions, proper “getting wealthy off misery” stuff. Nowadays her property interests are on the continent, where you suspect regulations are more lax. As well as the McMansion she lives in here, she’s got a house in Didsbury, and a wine bar nearby called Ci Vediamo she’s gifted to her daughter Amber to run.’

‘Right … Didsbury …’ Bel’s knowledge of the suburb didn’t stretch beyondvery wealthy leafy suburb, quite ‘media people’.

‘Victorian detached, very nicely done out, an Airbnb otherwise, dressy hen dos and the like. The periods it’s not hired, it’s made available to friends and family. Enter one Glenn Bailey. I will send you the link.’

Bel put her fork down.

‘They know what he’s doing? They’re enablers?’ Bel said. This was promising. The mark himself could be well-protected but those around him, they surely offered potential ways in?

‘Bingo. It takes a village to be this successful a scumbucket. The Airbnb bookings are managed solely by Amber, the daughter, who keeps an iPad just for the purpose, presumably to keep it clear and hygienic from prying bar staff eyes. It’s under lock and key at the bar. If you can get into that iPad, you’re going to find proof of Glenn’s visits.’

Bel quelled the rising tide of hope as she thought it through.

‘Assuming he’s not in there under a pseudonym and no money’s changing hands … and proving he’s stayed at a house isn’t proof he’s with women.’

‘Well, the plot thickens. Erin went there with Glenn three times. On the second night he got quite panicky about the doorbell being rung in the dead of night. When he went down to answer it, nobody was there. Probably piss artists, but guilty people are easily spooked. He summoned Amber and she said don’t worry, we can check on it with Ring video. Not only that, they told him they keep months and months of Ring footage, stored in the iCloud. A hundred and eighty days, she said. I’m guessing they think it’s useful to keep tabs on the Airbnb visitors.’

‘This is on the iPad?’

‘Yes. An iPad with rainbows on the cover. Glenn has been so, so careful but he didn’t anticipate Erin witnessing this conversation. Get footage of Glenn arriving and leaving with women from that doorbell, and you have your proof. I’m confident he’s a frequent enough offender that you’ll see him on more than one visit. Erin’s trips were within the timeframe. If you have that proof, my niece says she will do an interview. You’ve got the whole exclusive.’

Bel now scanned round the room at weeknight diners digging into soup noodles, indifferent to their conspiracy.

‘How am I getting into the iPad? Apple devices can’t be jailbroken by the Feds.’

---