“Charlie’s in the hospital in St. Lucia. DCI Ridley knows and he’s agreed to let you go.”

Chapter 34

On the interview table in front of Geoffrey was a pile of tissues, and Ridley was seriously considering whether to send Laura for a second box. Normally, an interviewee would get upset when asked a specific question, or when reminded of details that were worrying them, or just before they were charged with something. But Geoffrey was simply mourning the woman he loved with all of his heart and soul. He had been a client of Ester’s since the mid-eighties and, when she got out of prison for the murder of Dolly Rawlins, he had volunteered to take her in. He hadn’t been the most exciting man in the world, personality or sexuality wise, but he’d been a very fast learner and, in the end, Ester and Geoffrey had made a formidable team. Between them, they’d alienated half of the Isle of Wight with their elaborate antics—Ester had once taken Geoffrey to the post office on a diamante dog leash. They’d thought it was the funniest thing in the world.

“What can we do to help you, Mr. Porter-Lewis?” Ridley asked. “Would you like a drink?”

“Sparkling water, please,” Geoffrey whispered.

Ridley rolled his eyes and sent Laura to the canteen.

“You know you’re not in any trouble, right? We don’t think Ester revealed her plans to you, so all we really want to know is whether you have any idea where she was heading after Southampton.”

Geoffrey shook his head in a series of short, sharp movements.

“She never loved me,” he sniffled, blowing spit bubbles as he endeavored to smile. “I gave her half of my life and all of the love I had, but she never loved me back. I was OK with that because she liked me—and Ester never liked anyone.” He paused long enough for Ridley to inch toward the door. “Love would have been an awfully big adventure, if only she’d allowed me to show her the way.”

It was the most Geoffrey had said since arriving at the station. He seemed to want Ridley to stay; Ridley would have done if he’d thought for one second he’d get something remotely useful from him at the end of all that dribbling. But that wasn’t going to happen.

The flight to St. Lucia was long. Jack was silent and Maggie didn’t push him for conversation. He was in a world of his own, so all she did was hold his hand as a sign that she was there for him when he needed her. She glanced to her left every now and then to see if his furrowed brow had lifted, but it hadn’t. In all of their time together, Jack had never lost anyone close; she imagined he’d now be flicking through the memories of his life with Charlie, and longing for those unrepeatable years gone by.

In fact, Jack was wondering how a bunch of old-school women, who’d learned their tricks and cons back in the eighties and nineties, would go about getting new passports more than twenty years later. He was convinced that, since the train robbery in ’95, they’d have had no connection with the criminal world at all—Ester went to prison and the others went straight. What Ridley and his team should be doing now is looking back at forgers from twenty years ago. Eddie Rawlins would know exactly whose door to knock on. God, he wished he wasn’t flying to St. Lucia! He glanced to his right and saw Maggie’s face. He softened his brow and squeezed her hand.