‘I’m not surprised. It’s like a maze in here. Too many dark corners. And security’s a shambles. Too many inmates, not enough staff.’

‘I hope you’re not trying to make excuses. You know how much I hate excuses.’

Chapter 22

Bailey lay on her bunk in the darkness, eyes open, looking up at the ceiling. The lights were now off and they had been locked in for the night. The springs creaked as Sharon shifted position on the bunk below.

Wide awake, Bailey was contemplating her next move, trying to work out how Poodle’s murder fitted into the wider picture. Did it simplify things or did it complicate them?

Sharon’s voice drifted up from below.

‘Who was that visiting you today?’ she asked.

Bailey felt a small pinch of anxiety. She hadn’t noticed Sharon in the visit hall. It just went to show that you never knew who might be watching you when you weren’t aware. You couldn’t afford to let your cover slip for one moment.

She resisted the urge to tell Sharon that it was none of her business.

‘He’s my brother,’ she answered.

There was a brief pause.

‘You don’t look alike. His nose is way bigger than yours for one thing.’

Bailey sighed inwardly. This inmate was too inquisitive by half.

‘He got his mum’s nose. He’s my half-brother. Same father, different mothers.’

‘Oh.’

Sharon went quiet. Bailey hoped that the explanation was sufficient. Not being able to see Sharon’s face, it was hard to know what she was thinking.

There was no noise from the bunk below for a few minutes. Hopefully she had gone to sleep.

‘How did you get those scars?’ said Sharon.

No such luck.

‘I’d rather not talk about it.’

‘Sorry I asked.’

‘No problem.’

Another pause. Just long enough for Bailey to think that she actually had gone to sleep this time, when she spoke up again.

‘What did you do with the money?’

‘What money?’ Bailey was confused.

‘The money you stole when you were an accountant. You told me you stole a load of money, right?’

Bailey cursed herself for her slow uptake. ‘Oh, that money.’

‘Yeah. That money. Did you give it back?’

‘Yes. I had to.’

‘You must have spent some of it surely? Why steal it otherwise?’

Bailey paused. She wasn’t enjoying this interrogation. Why couldn’t Sharon just go to sleep?

‘Yeah, of course I spent some.’

‘So what did you buy then?’

‘Oh… handbags, shoes, that kind of thing. Stuff I couldn’t normally afford. Louis Vuitton, Kurt Geiger, y’know.’

‘Nice. How much did you nick?’

Bailey couldn’t work out if Sharon’s questions were innocent curiosity or if she was angling for something somehow. Either way, she knew she had to be careful.

‘It was in the thousands.’

‘Tens of thousands or hundreds of thousands?’

‘Enough to put me away for four years.’

‘Keeping it close to your chest, huh?’ Sharon laughed. ‘I bet you squirrelled some of it away somewhere. Some cash buried in the woods wrapped in plastic?’