Page 91 of The Good Neighbour
Josh took a seat at the small table opposite Mrs Wimpole.
“Okay, Mrs Wimpole. Are you going to put me out of my misery?”
“I very much hope so, young man,” she replied. “Okay, where to begin?”
She reached over and grabbed her iPad from the kitchen counter.
“As you know, the Professor found the lad with the same likeness in both videos. Well, he had a brainwave this afternoon.”
“I wonder what that was.”
Mrs Wimpole held up a finger. “Wonder no more.”
She slid onto the next image. It was a Facebook profile for the same guy.
“Kevin Hogg? Wait a minute, that’s the same surname as Hugh’s stepfather.”
Judging by the expression on Mrs Wimpole’s face, she was many steps ahead of this. He admired her ability to string out a story.
“His son. The middle one,” Mrs Wimpole revealed. “We realised that there had to be a connection. He’s friends with Hugh’s mother.”
“What is going on?”
Mrs Wimpole placed her hands together. Her kitchen was a vision in sage green wood and orange splashbacks.
“My suspicion is he and his vile father are trying to ruin Hugh’s career so he won’t bring embarrassment to them,” Mrs Wimpole said. “Not that he’s even taken their name. Stupid men.”
Josh let that sink in. He’d known it was a set-up.
“I need to tell Hugh,” he said.
Mrs Wimpole stayed him with a hand on his arm. “Calm down, Casanova,” she said. “We need to be cleverer than that. If you tell everything, Hugh will have a showdown. They’ll only deny it and we have no proof. Yet.”
A tingle of apprehension ran up his spine. Mrs Wimpole had a glow about her that suggested she might be about to throw a curveball. He braced himself.
“Go on.”
Mrs Wimpole reached into her handbag at the side of her chair and produced a small envelope. She tipped it out onto the table. A small black square of plastic fell onto the table. It was about the size of two dices.
“What’s that?”
“A microphone,” Mrs Wimpole explained. “I borrowed it from Mr Varma.”
Nihal Varma lived on Queens Crescent. He owned a huge PR firm in the city. It was common knowledge Nihal used questionable methods at times.
“Okay,” Josh said. “We don’t even know where he lives… Hang on, we do, don’t we?”
Mrs Wimpole nodded. “Mr Varma’s staff can find out all sorts of things. They will come in very handy in the future.”
“Am I going to freeze my arse off in a rough street waiting for him to come out?”
“You know me better than that.”
Mrs Wimpole handed him a cup of coffee from the flask. Of course, she had put china mugs in when preparing fortheir little trip. She had hired a Range Rover for the covert operation. Unfortunately, she’d insisted on driving. Josh was still struggling to bring his heartrate down.
They were opposite an apartment complex near the river.
“If only we had some way to lure him out,” Mrs Wimpole muttered. “Stakeouts are very boring.”
