“So, he might have killed Ian Ventham,” says Donna. “And he’s certainly up to something. But I doubt it’s because of your bones.”
“Is it worth my pointing out anymore that this is all confidential?” says Chris.
“You are quite safe with us. You know that, don’t you? Nothing ever leaves this room,” says Elizabeth. “Shall we just forget this ever happened, the business with the bones and what have you, and pool our knowledge?”
“I think we’ve pooled quite enough for one day, Elizabeth,” says Donna.
“Oh, really?” says Elizabeth. “And yet, you haven’t even told us about the Tony Curran photograph yet. We had to find that out for ourselves.”
Donna and Chris both look at Elizabeth. Chris lets out a theatrical sigh.
“By way of a peace offering,” says Ibrahim, “perhaps you would like to know who took the photograph?”
Chris looks up to the heavens. Or Joyce’s Artex ceiling. “I would actually like to know that, yes.”
“Lad named Turkish Johnny,” says Ron.
“Although he’s not Turkish,” adds Joyce.
“You’ve seen the photo, Ron?” asks Donna.
Ron nods.
“Nice one of Jason, eh?”
“You want my view, for what it’s worth,” says Ron. “You find Turkish Johnny or Bobby Tanner, you find Tony Curran’s killer.”
“Well then, if we’re laying all our cards on the table,” says Chris, “has Jason explained away his phone calls to Tony Curran on the morning of the murder? And has he explained away the presence of his car in the area at the exact moment that Tony Curran was murdered?”
“Yes,” says Elizabeth. “To our satisfaction.”
“Anything you’d like to share?” asks Donna.
“Listen, I’ll get him to give you a bell and explain, don’t worry,” says Ron. “But shall we get on and find this Johnny fella and Bobby Tanner?”
“Just leave that with us, please,” says Chris.
“I think we’re unlikely to just leave that with you, Chris,” says Elizabeth. “I’m ever so sorry.”
“Would you like some sherry?” asks Joyce. “It’s only Sainsbury’s, but it’s Taste the Difference.”
Chris sinks back into his chair and submits. “If any of this ever gets back to Kent Police, I will personally arrest you and march you into court myself. I swear, on my life.”
“Chris, no one will ever find out,” says Elizabeth. “You know how I used to make my living?”
“Well, not really, if I’m honest.”
“Exactly.”
As a complicit silence falls over the room, it seems the evening’s drinking can now begin in earnest.
“I am very proud of how we all work together as a team,” says Ibrahim. “Cheers.”
77.
Joyce
I’m glad we told Chris and Donna about the bones. It seems right. Now everyone can keep an eye out. Who was here in the 1970s and is still here today? That should keep them all occupied for a bit.
