‘Honestly? No, I don’t. He was a waste of good air, though. He might not have been a killer, but he was definitely a paedo. Not the sort of bloke you want teaching your daughter.’
‘Oh, God, that’s right. He was Millie’s physics teacher, wasn’t he? What did she think about him?’
‘She thought he was creepy as fuck, although she didn’t put it quite like that. Plus, Tomlinson admitted to going for a wander in the woods from time to time. And he vented his strong dislike for Joshua Knoll in his diary. Fancy a cold one?’
‘Do you even need to ask?’
Ash follows Roly inside and into the kitchen. It turns out Roly hasn’t stocked any beer in his fridge or even bought any lager to stock it with. Something to do with giving up cigarettes, although Ash doesn’t get what that has to do with beer. So instead of swigging lager out of a bottle, as they would usually do, they each pour a can of IPA into a glass and add ice cubes.
Ash takes a gulp. ‘So, more of a lukewarm one, then,’ he comments, grimacing. The Rowlands’ swanky new kitchen is so white he hardly dares to set his glass down in case it leaves a stain or he knocks it over. ‘No one else at home?’
‘Millie’s at a friend’s and Jo’s at her Zumba class. Some peace and quiet for a bit.’
Ash has far more peace and quiet than he would like. It’s one of the things he loves when he pops in at Crooked Oak Cottage – the noise. It’s not noisy, it’s just comforting. Homely. Carla’s music – Ash isn’t a fan of opera, but he thinks it could grow on him when he hears it there; Iris and Olly’s banter or bickering, depending on their moods; Margo’s non-stop chatter. Although Dandruff’s discordant humming, not so much.
‘Listen, mate, there’s something else I haven’t told you. It’s about Dandruff.’
Not so much speak of the devil as think of the devil. Was Roly reading his mind? ‘Go on.’
‘Well, he rang me the other day, ostensibly to thank me for my help when Margo went missing, although I didn’t actually do anything.’
When Roly pauses, Ash prompts him. ‘So, what did he really want?’
‘He said he wanted to talk to me about the case … the Joshua Knoll case. He said he didn’t want to cause any trouble. He implied he might have some information.’ Ash splutters on his IPA. ‘He was beating around the bush.’
‘Like you’re doing now.’
‘Right. Sorry. He mentioned Iris and some shoes that ended up in the bin. I told him he wasn’t making any sense. In the end, he just asked me to forget he’d called. I didn’t get a chance to tell him I wasn’t on the case anymore.’
Was Dandruff going to dob Iris in? That’s what it sounds like. He knew Carla had confided in Dandruff about something. So it was the shoes, then. Dandruff probably didn’t realize that Roly was the one who had told him about the trainers. Was Dandruff really going to pass on information to Roly? After Carla accepted to take him back? The two-faced snake! Ash could confront him about it, but Dandruff would deny it. He didn’t actually say anything in the end, by the sound of it, anyway. Ash has always thought that Carla was way too good for Dandruff; this is the first time he has considered Dandruff to actually be bad for her.
‘What did you say to him?’
‘I told him we’d made a breakthrough in the case, but made out I was telling him in confidence. My colleagues were interviewing your man Tomlinson at the time, but it was going to be in the news anyway.’
‘Thanks, Roly. You did the right thing.’
‘And what are you going to do?’
Ash thinks about this for a moment. ‘Not a lot,’ he admits, feeling helpless, ‘but I’ll keep a close eye on him. Give him a warning, if I get the chance.’
What else can he do? He wants Carla to be happy. Dandruff has moved back in to Crooked Oak Cottage. If he was thinking of telling Roly about the shoes, he has thought better of it. Ash is going to have to give him the benefit of the doubt. Even if there’s no doubt at all in Ash’s mind.
He has drunk as much of the IPA as he can bear, so he decides to make a move. ‘Thanks for the chat and the beer,’ he says, handing Roly the glass and getting to his feet. ‘Thanks for everything, Roly.’
When he gets home, Ash puts on a wash and some alternative rock, then showers and changes into jeans and a sweatshirt. Despite the music, it seems quieter than ever at Mayflower Farm. He fires off a text to Carla, goes into the kitchen and opens the fridge. He pulls out some leftovers – peri-peri chicken – which he heats up in the microwave.
When he has finished eating, he checks for Iris’s video on the web, but today, for the first time, he doesn’t find it. His fingers intertwined, he leans back in his office chair and smiles. It’s all dying down. At last. With a bit of luck, Roly’s right. Things will soon go back to normal.
Ash is dozing off on the sofa in front of a documentary about Captain Tom and his family when Carla rings. He sits up and grabs his phone, suddenly wide awake.
‘Hey,’ she says when he answers. That one syllable alone is enough to make his heart skip a beat.
They talk about Tomlinson’s death. Carla heard about it from Jo.
‘How’s Iris?’ Ash asks.
‘She hasn’t said much,’ Carla replies. ‘I think, like us, she doesn’t really know what to make of this … development.’
