‘I need to go and think about what you’ve told me. There’s a lot for me to process.’
‘Please, don’t leave me here like this. Can you at least let me move around the room for a while?’
But Franklin has stopped listening. His mind is already whirring. He reinserts Parker’s earphones and the gag, taping them into place.
And then he turns and leaves the room.
23
Love and Anger
– Kate Bush
Webley finds her irritation building even before she reaches the front door.
The address they have for Leah Naylor, Oliver Selby’s shop assistant, is this house in Neston. Webley told herself repeatedly on the way over not to allow this young woman to get under her skin, but here she is, her flesh already crawling.
The thing is, she’s not even sure why she’s reacting this way. This is just one more interviewee in one more case. Nothing special. They’ll probably never see Leah again after this. Well, not unless she knows a lot more than she said last time.
Actually, Webley does know why her back is up. She just doesn’t want to admit it to herself. It’s not so much that Leah is young and beautiful; it’s the fact that she knows it and is supremely confident about it. What was it she said about Oliver employing good-looking female staff? I mean, Jesus, how vain do you have to be to come out with that?
But Webley knows that’s not the full story either. It’s not just the vanity. It’s the way Leah was with Cody.
There, she thinks. It’s out in the open. I admit it. I don’t like the way she flirted with Cody.
Even though it’s none of my business.
Women can flirt with Cody. Cody can flirt with women. He can go out with them, stay in with them, have wild sex with them if he wants. I don’t care.
So why is this even in my head?
When Leah answers the door, she is wearing a vest top and skin-tight grey leggings. Her eyes lock immediately on Cody, and once again Webley feels like a ghost.
‘Oh, hello!’ Leah says, beaming. ‘Didn’t think I’d see you again so soon.’
Webley is the first to answer, announcing her existence. ‘Mind if we come in?’
Leah’s glance at Webley is fleeting. ‘You’ll have to excuse my appearance,’ she says to Cody. ‘I’ve been doing yoga in the front room.’
Course you have, Webley thinks.
As Leah leads them inside, Webley finds herself checking to see whether Cody’s eyes are taking in the view of the young woman’s pert backside.
None of my business.
The house is nicely furnished but a little dated for Webley’s taste. There are far too many knick-knacks dotted around, and the paintings on the walls are all by an amateur who has yet to master either perspective or symmetry. One particular effort in pride of place over the mantelpiece in the living room shows a dog that seems to Webley to be looking at the ceiling and the floor simultaneously.
‘Live here on your own?’ Webley asks.
‘No, it’s my parents’ house. They’ve gone into Chester.’
‘Nobody else living here with you? No temporary lodgers?’
‘Lodgers? What are you talking about?’
Webley doesn’t like the tone. Thinks it sounds a bit aggressive. She readies herself for a fight, but Cody interrupts. His voice is calmer than this woman deserves, his words more diplomatic.
‘We, er, we were wondering if you’d heard anything else about Oliver Selby. He hasn’t been in touch?’
Really, Cody? You’re going to be this nice to her?
‘No,’ Leah says. ‘Why would he contact me?’
Webley wants to let out a loud sigh, but she holds it in check. ‘You work for him.’
‘Yeah, but… well, I would have told the police if I’d heard from him, wouldn’t I? I know you’re searching for him.’
‘And you’ve still no idea where he might be?’
Like, in your wardrobe or under your bed.
‘No. Look, has somebody said something?’
‘Such as?’
‘I don’t know.’ She looks to Cody for help. ‘Honestly, I really don’t.’
Webley would quite like Cody to turn off the charm now. Time to get the thumbscrews out.
