Page 87 of The Dead Come to Stay
“Pup cones,” Chen observed sagely. “I remember.”
They were coming up, at last, to a little blue cart. The sides had been decorated with cartoon children and oversize treats. Gwilym was already ordering an iced lolly. They did have strawberry and Jo purchased one for Arthur and one for herself. Chen declined: “No dairy, pet.”
“There must be something,” Jo said as they sought a bench to recline on. “Ice cream doesn’t explain the key.” When Arthur recovered from the initial shock of it, each had turned over the key in careful fingers. Gwilym suggested a bicycle key, Chen a jewelry box. Aiden didn’t ride, however, and had only a single ring, worn from his schooldays.
“The wine is special,” Jo said. “It’s about your first meeting, your first date, your first drink together.”
“I’m not sure I remember our first ice cream,” Arthur said, helping Chen to a seat and then lowering himself beside her. Jo looked again at the key in her palm.
“It’s about more than ice cream,” she said. Chen tapped the ground gently with her umbrella.
“Aye. More than paintings or wines or dinner tables. It’s about Aiden. And about you, Arthur.” She closed her eyes and gaveherself a little shake, earrings shimmering. “Arthur and his Ægle. The brave one and the stuck one.”
Jo bit her lip; she’d not been the only one to see that, then.
“Only Aiden was done being stuck,” Chen went on, eyes open and trained upon Arthur’s leading-man features. “Done, I say. Told Jo, and now I’m telling you. He was going to beat cancer and come home a changed man.”
“Except he didn’t,” Arthur said.
Jo had left her ice cream to melt by mistake; she dropped it into the bin and tried to unstick her fingers with a napkin.
“We know that now,” she said. “But all this—the doll, the painting, the wine. It’s frombefore. Before it was too late.”
“I’m not sure it makes a difference,” Arthur said, but Jo had caught the thread and was winding it.
“Itdoes. I’m an idiot—ofcourseit does.” She turned in place.Before it was too late.It was too late for Aiden to mend things with his sister, Jo’s mother. It was too late for him to have a relationship with Jo. Too late for Jo to know her father. It had been too late for Evelyn and William, too. Everything about their family wastoo late.And Aiden wasn’t going to let it happen again if he could help it. He had cancer, but meant to beat it. “Don’t you see? You weren’t supposed to be making this journey withus. You were supposed to be doing it witha recovered Aiden. He would have been here.”
“Does that mean there’s no clue for the key?” Gwilym asked. “Is it a metaphor, like the key to my heart?”
Arthur winced. “Aiden didn’t go in for cliché,” he said.
“Of course not. This man arranged a painting clue and secret messages!” Jo was flapping her hands at the wrist, looking for an outlet to the restless energy. Her brain was circling something, all bells ringing. They were on a treasure hunt—it had a beginning on a rainy night in August...Inception. Itinerate. Iconography.It would also have anend.
“Arthur, I don’t need to know that first time you ate ice cream with Aiden,” Jo said suddenly. “I need to know thelasttime.”
For a moment, Arthur’s face was a blank. Then his mouth drew down, eyes casting away to the distance over the Tyne.
“Oh.” He’d balled up his dessert napkin between his fists. “November. One of those strange warm days. He’d been staying with me, seeing the oncologist here. We took a walk, ended up near a stand like this one. I’d brought the dogs and—they had their share. He paid because—”
They waited in silence as Arthur mastered his emotions.
“He said he was selling the flat in York,” he said at last. “‘I’ll soon be flush,’ he said. ‘So I’ll get this one.’”
“Next time, you pay,” Gwilym added.
“We talked about joined households. He teased me about my choice in financial establishments—I work there, after all.”
Jo felt her breath catch.The bank.Arthur’sownbank. She held up the key, a key not unlike the one for her mother’s safe-deposit box.
“Let’s go there,” she said. “I think something is waiting for you.”
Chapter 26
Thursday, 12:45
MacAdams dabbed at his palms with antiseptic. If this kept up, he’d need to start carrying first aid around in his car. It was supposed to be a straightforward day: shake Burnhope, pressure Sophie Wagner, track down this Gerald Standish—oil and gasdoctor.Now they had a suspect in an interview room, and they had also called in Anje and Artem for questioning. They came without the same sort of fuss.
“All set, boss,” Green said, leaning through the storage room door.
