“Did you mummy tell you where she was going on that Friday when she forgot to leave the key?”
Mia shook her head. “She said she was seeing my daddy’s friend, then Blake would stop coming round.”
I frowned, trying to click pieces of a jigsaw in place. “Mia, do you know what your daddy’s name is?” We didn’t have a name or contact details on file. Neither was he named on Mia’s birth certificate.
“Stan. I’ve only seen him twice.” She put the black crayon down. “I wish I could see him more.”
That didn’t add up. Stan wasn’t the name Romy had given for Mia’s father. “Why can’t you see him more?”
She shrugged. “Mummy said he doesn’t live close enough. Am I in trouble for telling lies?”
“No, Mia. You’re not in any trouble. Do you feel better now you’ve told someone?”
She nodded.
“Will you tell Romy?”
“Do you want me to?”
Another nod. “Can I go back to class now?”
“I’ll walk you there. What lesson have you got?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Maths. I don’t like maths.”
We got there just at the end of the maths lesson, going into reading, which Mia seemed happy about. I shared a look with the teacher so she knew to keep an eye on her, then I went back to my office and called Liv.
Liv was there in twenty minutes, her suit looking crumpled and her eyes looking like she hadn’t slept for the last two days.
“So the man in the house isn’t Logan. Cara told her to lie. It’s actually Blake. And her dad is called Stan. Believe it or not, that makes a whole hell of a lot of sense.” She sat back in the same chair where Mia had been colouring.
“Want to join the dots for me? If you’re allowed?”
Liv nodded, looking at the kettle in the corner of my office. “Thirsty work this. A brew would go down a treat.”
“Jesus.” I stood up and switched it on, glad the me of an hour ago had remembered to fill it up.
Liv checked her phone while I made the tea, listening into a conversation she had with her boss, confirming the two new names and then doing a lot of listening.
“No sugar, drop of milk.” I put the drink in front of her, sitting back down in the seat I’d been in before, the red owl staring at me from the table.
“Thank you.” She sipped at it, even though it was far too hot. “Asbestos mouth. You can never drink tea too hot.”
“Beg to differ. I have a strong relationship with the roof of my mouth.”
“That’s overrated. Anyway, I’ll give you some info in exchange for an update on you and my friend. Deal?”
“Deal.” It would only be what the rest of the town already knew.
“Good. Okay, so before Cara moved back to Puffin Bay, she lived in Manchester, working as bar staff in a nightclub. More details are available – I’ve spent the last seventy-two hours of my life going through hers – but those details aren’t necessary. She was a party girl, pretty, and was good arm candy. A modern-day Moll, if you like. She went out with a couple of men who were involved in an OCG – organised crime group, the new name for gangs, really – and she liked that lifestyle, the money, access to drugs, the status. It got serious with one of them, she moved in with him, gave up work and had a bit of a WAG lifestyle. Then, by the looks of things, she got pregnant, but not by him.”
“His father. Stan.” That piece of the jigsaw fell there. “It was either a nickname or someone older.”
“Correct. Dad and son fell out, as you’d imagine, and Cara came back to Puffin Bay in the house she’s in now. Stan got intouch when it suited him and when he wasn’t in the nick or in Portugal, and he’d send money over for Mia, but he didn’t want anything to do with Cara. I think that was the only way he could mend things with his son – Cara’s ex – who was an up-and-coming player in the group.” Liv had almost finished her tea already.
“What was Stan’s role in the group?”
“He was the money man, but with a lot more clout than that. He kept tabs on who owed what and what the interest should be. He’d actually trained and qualified as an accountant, so he wasn’t stupid, apart from where he’d stick his dick, obviously because the whole Cara thing caused a lot of issues and nearly split the crew – there was a lot of infighting which was a blessing and a curse to the Manchester police. Cara ended up getting involved with a rival crew; she needed money, and someone sniffed her out, wooed her a little and started using her house as a pick up point for drugs, a place to stash it before it was shipped out to Ireland via the ferry from Holyhead. Cara might’ve even taken it over herself, maybe using Mia as a decoy – I know she visited Dublin a few times recently.
