“Well yes. You do live here, don’t you?”
“Yes I do, but I’m not here alone anymore.”
“You have another woman in your life—yes, I know, and I have to say I’m surprised, so soon after me …”
“There is another woman, but it’s not what you think.”
“She’s very pretty, and young too. Is this her?” Lydia took out a sheaf of photos from her briefcase.
“Yes, that’s me and Zoe.” He blinked, not quite taking in what it was she was showing him. “Where did you get these? That’s my mother’s funeral. Why would you want photos of that?” He thought for a moment, and then realised. “You must have been there, watching—but why? And why not come and speak to me?”
“It didn’t seem the right thing to do, Tom.” She pointed to Zoe, who was holding his hand in one of the pictures. “So who’s the woman then?”
“My daughter, Zoe.”
“You have a daughter?” She sounded incredulous. “A grown-up daughter? Where did she come from? You certainly didn’t have her last time I saw you.”
“It’s a long story, but she is mine—mine and Rachel’s. She came looking for me when her mum died.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Are you okay with her living here?”
“Yep. It suits me just fine.” He looked a little closer at the images, trying to work out why she’d taken them. Then it hit him—like a brick between the eyes.
“It’s him, isn’t it?” He pointed at the image of his cousin. “You’re bloody well investigating him!”
The perfectly shaped eyebrows rose a little, and those baby blue eyes flashed with annoyance.
“He’s big news, Detective—or he will be once you lot get your fingers out and slap the cuffs on him.”
What on earth was she up to? Whatever it was it had to stop.
She obviously had no idea what she was getting into. If Fallon got the merest whiff that Lydia was about to dish the dirt on him, he’d retaliate. She’d simply disappear. He’d have her killed and Calladine would never be able to find out how or where.
“Keep away, Lydia. Fallon is bad news. Michael Morpeth was a pussycat in comparison to my damn cousin.”
“Don’t be like that.” She rubbed his arm. “It’s all going to come out about him soon. He’s started making mistakes. And with me doing the story, you can be kept out of it.”
“I’m not involved.” Now he was really angry. What did she think he was? “Since we reached adulthood I’ve had nothing to do with the bastard. And, like I keep telling people, neither should anyone else.”
“So. You won’t help me?” Lydia Holden stood glowering at him with her hands on her hips—those delicate, manicured hands of hers that could be so gentle, so giving.
“No, I won’t help you, because I would be signing your death warrant. You’ll get hurt, Lydia—you’ll be picked up by one of his thugs so fast your feet won’t touch. We’d never find your body.
We’d never find anything.”
“Then you need to up your game, Detective.”
“Smart-assed comments won’t get you anywhere either, Lydia.”
He still couldn’t believe it. Lydia Holden here, in his sitting room, calling the shots and looking so damn sexy he was helpless. He wanted her. He wanted her so badly it hurt.
“Well, if this is how you’re going to be, if you’re going to be all tight-lipped about Fallon, then I’ll go ask elsewhere. But I have to say, you surprise me, Detective. I thought you, of all people, would be only too happy to dish the dirt on your errant kin.”
“Look, Lydia, I don’t have time to stand here and argue with you now—”
“Well, come to bed and argue with me there instead. Come on, Detective, I know you want to.” She moved forward, and nuzzled in close. She was a siren, a weakness he couldn’t resist. “Don’t play hard to get, Detective. We both know it’s not your style.”
Their lips met long and hard. Could he take time out for this?
More to the point, should he take time out for this woman? Her hands roamed over his chest, flipping open his shirt buttons.
“We should make up for lost time…Don’t you want me, Tom?
Want me like before—you do remember how it was, don’t you, lover?”
Of course he remembered. How could he forget?
Their lips met again and this time the passion overpowered everything else in his head—the case, the problems, her need for his help. He pulled away from her. “Those pictures. Show them to me again.”
Lydia groaned and reached for her folder. “‘Here you go, Tom, and don’t take long. This girl is hungry.”
Calladine looked carefully at each one until he found it. Lydia had snapped Fallon as he stood by his car. He’d just got out and was making towards him. But it was his goon that caught his attention. The camera had caught him at the moment he lifted the arrangement of roses from the boot.
That could be it—the piece of the puzzle that would nail the bastard.
“Sorry, Lydia—I have to go out.” He was fastening his shirt and grabbing his suit jacket as he moved. “Stay. Settle in. Take the back bedroom; get yourself some food. I’ll be back later and we’ll talk.”
With that he was gone, banging the front door behind him.
* * *
Calladine pulled into the care-home car park. He took a quick look in the mirror to make sure he didn’t have Lydia’s lipstick all over his face, and made for the door. He had to knock. Since his mother’s death he no longer had a key card.
“Is Monika here?” he asked the young woman at the reception desk.
“She’s with some of the residents in the dining room. Go on through, Inspector.”
Monika looked up as he entered the room. She didn’t smile—but she didn’t frown or tell him to get lost either.
“Sorry, Monika. I should have come before…Look—we could do with having a proper talk at some time. Clear the air. But for now—this is business.”
She stood up from where she had been kneeling beside an elderly woman.
“I don’t think we’ve anything much to say, do you, Tom?
Actions, as they say, speak louder than words; and your actions over the past weeks have spoken volumes. You haven’t been near me for weeks—you didn’t even speak to me at your mother’s funeral. A perfect opportunity I would have thought.” She nodded towards her office. “In there, if you want to talk. Not in public, if you don’t mind.”
He couldn’t blame her. He’d been a first-class bastard.
“It’s the funeral I want to speak to you about. I know Zoe had a word. She suggested you brought some of the flowers back here. It was a filthy day—all that rain, and they’d only have been ruined if we left them on the grave.”
“Yes, she did offer—and I took her up on it. I didn’t touch the arrangement from you and Zoe, but I did take some of the bouquets. They are in vases around the rooms. You don’t want them back, do you?”
“Oh no, nothing like that. I’m only interested in the roses—that elaborate concoction from Fallon that spelt out ‘Auntie Freda’”
“Yes, I think we did take those. I can check. But before we do anything there’s something I need to do. Your mother instructed me to give you this.” She reached down and retrieved an envelope from a safe bolted to the floor. “She left this for you. She gave it to me the day she moved in here and said I was to only give it to you once she’d gone. She made me promise not to say anything, so I had no choice—I had to respect her wishes. She was fully aware of what she was doing when she gave it to me.”
“Do you know what it is?” He gave the large brown envelope a shake. There was something inside. He could feel it moving around.
“I’ve no idea. She didn’t say and I didn’t ask. Apparently there’s a letter, so that should explain it all. Now—the flowers you wanted.”
This was a mystery he hadn’t expected. He shook the envelope some more as he followed Monika along the corridor. Whatever it contained wasn’t very big.
“We’ll walk around and check all the vases.”