Page 118 of The Dead Come to Stay
“Right, because it was just a warehouse for his loot.”
“Would you actively court the ire of the Lord Mayor over a building you planned to store stolen goods in?” MacAdams asked.
Andrews had a chip halfway to his mouth. “Um, no, I suppose not. You would want to go under the radar.”
“Exactly. Instead, Ronan Foley fights with the city, causes problems, and ultimately the city halts the work and calls Burnhope.” MacAdams shook his head; they had all underestimated Foley. “Hewantedto cause problems. Because they were going to beStanley’sproblems. Give me two million pounds, cash, or I will ruin you. He just has to make a telephone call to the York police.”
“Damn.”
“Exactly,” Green agreed. “Stanley doesn’t have time to think about it. Foley’s standing there with his burner phone, saying wire me cashright nowor everything you love goes up in smoke. The York building might as well have been filled with dynamite. I’m kind of surprised he didn’t pay up, to be honest.”
Gridley slapped the table with her napkin. “He couldn’t! We looked at all his finances, remember? It’s tied up in house and business and the charity. No liquidity.”
“Unless you count Ava’s money,” Green added. “So the choices are—let Foley ruin you or take money from your wife, which will still ruin you. Or you pick up the nearest heavy object and smash him over the head.”
“That, my friends, was the point. This was about money. But only partly. Foley has a soft spot for women, certainly for Lina, and a conscience well-haunted by Tula of all people. Burnhope got his nanny into the country by pulling strings but left Foley’s lover out to dry. Getting Burnhope over his head and in trouble with Ava was thepoint.”He could imagine him flaunting it, even. Laughing when Burnhope said he wouldn’t pay, couldn’t pay. In the end, Burnhope had more to lose than Foley.
That was, in fact, the only thing Foley hadn’t counted on: he’d pushed a rich man too close to losing it all, and Burnhope wasn’t going quietly.
MacAdams knew what his defense lawyers would say; heat of the moment, unintentional manslaughter. But there was no doubt Burnhope could be cold and calculating. Once the deed was done, he planned his next moves like an expert villain: He would make it seem a living Ronan Foley was in Abington well after their meeting, at a time when Burnhope would have an alibi. They didn’t look alike, but they shared an accent, were of similar height, and both had dark hair. In most cases, a witness wouldn’t recall much else on first meeting.
But most witnesses were not Jo Jones.
That was the loose end he hadn’t counted on. In other respects, luck continued to smile on Burnhope. Bowes’s last duty was to take Lina to the Abington Arms. There, she and Foley would assume the identities they had been building up, change into new clothes and then leave with faked IDs for the continent. Bowes parked with Lina on the hiking trail, waiting for a call that never came. He turned up again the next day, and the next. That’s where Jo and Gwilym saw him—and Lina, too, at least for a moment. Spooked, Bowes returned to Newcastle, only to hear that Foley was dead. Panic set in, and Bowes sought help from Burnhope, who conscripted him to clean out the York property with the East London Cockneys.
Stanley Burnhope must have slept better, thinking this last mistake was tidied over—only to be surprised by police inquiries the next day. He’d killed Foley already; now he murdered him in public opinion, claiming no knowledge of his crimes... and the papers, at least, believed him.
But of course, there was Lina. And, as MacAdams and Green told him, Lina was pregnant. Bowes had gone to ground after the York bust, leaving Lina on her own in Abington. Burnhope coaxed him back with a promise of cash—if he could bring the girl back. It wasn’t hard. Far from helpless, she had managed to return to Newcastle on her own. Bowes texted her the coordinates to the parking ramp.
“What was his plan with Lina, anyway?” Andrews asked. “He wasn’t gonna cosh her over the head, too, was he?”
“I don’t think so. I suspect he planned to bribe her with the promise of papers. She had the baby to think of—and like Maryam, Lina doesn’t trust police. Not much of a loose end.”
But MacAdams could imagine the shock—the utter dismay—seeing Jo again in Newcastle must have caused. Stanley could have denied being Ronan Foley right then, told her she was mistaken. But Jo caught him out. Lina may have had nowhere else to go, but an American with connections whose face he’d seen in the local papers? Burnhope couldn’t buy his way out ofthat.
The waiter had returned. MacAdams paid for their current fare (and another round, just in case). Then he stood to go.
“Hang on, you didn’t even finish a single pint!” Andrews said.
Green slapped his shoulder. “Got better places to be?” she asked, pointing to MacAdams... who was wearing the Jekyll Gardens tie. He didn’t reply. He did tip his hat, fold his jacket over one arm and head to his car.
***
Sunlight streamed through the larch trees, leaving dappled shade across the garden path. Jo had traded Doc Martens for light walking shoes, even if that made her even shorter. She had never quite mastered the art of sundress; too many fussy attributes, so had settled for a light gray T-shirt dress. The afternoon had agreed to play nice, and in almost every respect, was a perfect twin of the previous Saturday. Minus a murder. So far.
“Welcome to the Jekyll Gardens opening, take two,” she said as MacAdams approached the gate.
“Better late than never.”
He was in shirtsleeves again. Jo wondered if she was ever going to get used to that. He also carried a basket.
“Lunch,” he said, handing it over. Jo peered at cheese and olives, a half loaf of bread—and a bottle of white wine.
“That’s not the clowslip kind, right?”
“New Zealand Pinot Grigio,” he said, smiling. “I even brought glasses.” Which was excellent because plastic cups and drinking... anything... was a stretch for Jo. Lip plastic was almost as bad as lip Styrofoam.Shudder.“Did you want to visit the violets?”
“Actually, no. There’s a gazebo in the center now.” She led the way along bright cornflower, bluebell and columbine. The May flowers were starting to fade, but the roses would soon be blooming everywhere. “It’s the one thing that wasn’t original, but what’s a garden without a gazebo?”
