Page 7 of Indefensible
Deryn shook his head. There was a cafe on the main road, specialising in stewed tea, sticky buns and gossip. “Nowhere we could talk without every word going round the village,” he said.
“Garden then, though the sight of the coffee machine on the kitchen counter, just out of reach, will torment me.”
They returned to the white plastic table, Murphy sitting facing away from the house and the taunts of the coffee machine. The scent of pine trees drifted across the river.
“I haven’t got long,” Deryn said. “I told you we had the two overdoses yesterday — if it was fentanyl we need to get the word out to warn other drug users. So, Mason Abruzzi? Why would a millionaire come to live in Cwmcoed?”
Murphy tipped his head back, looking up at the trees, seemingly organising his thoughts. “Honestly, I have no idea. At least, I know why he left the States; what I don’t know is why he came to this bit of Wales. Though he said he was very happy here. Gotta say, I imagined something a bit more romantic, and well,bigger. You should see the size of his house in Brooklyn.”
“Why did he leave America?”
Murphy blushed and fixed his eyes on a couple of the chickens who were scratching in the dirt. “His relationship broke up. He said he wanted a new start. He talked about leaving everything behind and reinventing himself. Said he didn’t like who he had become.”
“The relationship that ended was with … you?” Deryn was certain he knew the reason for the blushes.
Murphy blushed harder and nodded. “He … erm …” There was a silence and more studying of the chickens, then, “Mason didn’t like that I work in law enforcement. He hadn’t had good experiences.”
“I asked yesterday about whether Mason was involved with drugs, but we didn’t have time to discuss it.”
“Not drugs, no. I mean, a bit of weed, sure, but no hard drugs. No, he got a couple of DUIs … his folks made the first one go away … and the second one, but the cops gave him a hard time. Like they knew he was going to walk, so he got pushed about a bit. He didn’t injure anyone driving drunk, but he did a fairamount of damage to other cars. I mean, he was a really sweet guy, but he was kinda out of control.”
Deryn didn’t like the implications of that, but he was hardly in a position to throw stones. None of it explained why Abruzzi had come to Wales. He asked again, and got the same answer, accompanied by a shrug.
“I have to go,” he said. “Will you be OK?”
“I’m going to talk to the rest of the street,” Murphy said. “Someone must have seen something.” Deryn thought that they both knew that wasn’t a given.
Deryn felt a chill in the air, and a fluttering in his stomach. The river seemed very loud all of a sudden and he was afraid. “Be careful,” he said. “There are some desperate people in these houses. If your friendwasabducted, asking questions might not be too healthy.”
“It’s my job. I know how to look after myself. And your ordinary citizens aren’t armed, right?” Which was true, though the feeling of foreboding didn’t go away.
“Ring me,” Deryn said. “Tell me if you find anything.”
“Rely on it,” Murphy said, and sketched a salute.
Deryn wanted to ask Murphy to ring if hedidn’tfind anything. Just ring. Something nasty — nastier than usual — was happening in Cwmcoed and it didn’t feel safe.
The rest of Deryn’s morning was dispiriting. He visited three people known to be regular heroin users, and in one case, also a small-time dealer. Each one let him in probably because he was related to Phillip, rather than because he was a police officer. His warnings that mixing fentanyl with heroin was life threatening were listened to with more or less patience. In no case did Deryn have any sense that behaviour would change.
No one was prepared to name Phillip as the source of the drugs. Phillip would continue to sell his wares and someone else would die. Phillip would never see the reality of his dealing up close and personal. He provided the product — and even that was at arm’s length — and others sold it and collected the money. Then Phillip washed the cash through another one of the family businesses. Phillip Fromow had been Deryn’s father’s right-hand man, and now he had stepped up.
It was lunchtime, and there was a kebab shop a couple of streets over. Deryn rang Murphy without examining his reasons too closely.
“I’m getting myself a kebab, shall I bring you one? The coffee isn’t bad, either,” he said.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but if it’s food, then yes. And coffee. Lots of coffee. In Mason’s garden?”
Twenty minutes later, Deryn opened the gate to find Murphy sitting at the white plastic table with the black cat on his lap. Deryn presented him with a warm, paper-wrapped parcel and a cardboard coffee cup. Murphy evicted the cat and opened his parcel.
“It’s gyros,” he said, seemingly pleased, and tucked in. Deryn made a mental note of the name and unwrapped his own kebab.
They ate in silence until the kebabs were gone and the focus had shifted to coffee. Murphy said, “I have found something interesting about Mason. It turns out that he volunteered with the Scouts. Volunteered a lot, and paid for a lot of things, too.”
“OK. I’ll bite, how did you find that lot out?”
“Coffee place on the main street.” Murphy smiled. “Interesting place. Surprisingly decent coffee, even if the barista wondered aloud that I hadn’t asked for an americano.”
“We don’t get a lot of outsiders,” Deryn said.
