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Chapters (64)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. August
  4. Day 1: Saturday
  5. Chapter 1
  6. Chapter 2
  7. Day 2: Sunday
  8. Chapter 4
  9. Chapter 5
  10. Chapter 6
  11. Chapter 7
  12. Chapter 8
  13. Day 3: Monday
  14. Chapter 10
  15. Chapter 11
  16. Chapter 12
  17. Chapter 13
  18. Chapter 14
  19. Chapter 15
  20. Chapter 16
  21. Day 4: Tuesday
  22. Chapter 18
  23. Chapter 19
  24. Chapter 20
  25. Chapter 21
  26. Day 5: Wednesday
  27. Chapter 23
  28. Chapter 24
  29. Day 6: Thursday
  30. Chapter 26
  31. Chapter 27
  32. Chapter 28
  33. Chapter 29
  34. Day 7: Friday
  35. Chapter 31
  36. Chapter 32
  37. Chapter 33
  38. Chapter 34
  39. Day 8: Saturday
  40. Chapter 36
  41. Chapter 37
  42. Chapter 38
  43. Chapter 39
  44. Chapter 40
  45. Chapter 41
  46. Chapter 42
  47. Chapter 43
  48. Day 9: Sunday
  49. Chapter 45
  50. Chapter 46
  51. Chapter 47
  52. Chapter 48
  53. Chapter 49
  54. Chapter 50
  55. Chapter 51
  56. Chapter 52
  57. Day 10: Monday
  58. Two months later
  59. Chapter 54
  60. Acknowledgements
  61. Detective Clare Mackay
  62. Canelo Crime
  63. About the Author
  64. Also by Marion Todd

‘Traces on the sill and on the floorboards beneath the window. And I’d say the window was recently opened. There are paint flakes on the floor. We’ve taken some prints from around the sill but there’s no guarantee they’ll match anyone on the database. We’ll try, though.’

Clare thanked Raymond and ended the call. ‘That’s definite, then. The shot came from inside the house.’

‘So, one of them?’ Chris said.

‘Mm, not sure I’d go that far. There’s that minibus for starters. Could have been anyone in that vehicle.’ She lifted her coffee mug and drained it. ‘Come on,’ she said, pushing back her chair. ‘It’s time we found out who was in that house on Friday night.’

Chapter 10

They headed for the station door but before they reached it, the tall figure of Mark Mooney entered. He was more formally dressed than at their first meeting, in dark trousers and a white shirt. He looked round then his eye fell on Clare and Chris. He hesitated then approached them.

‘Quite a crew out there,’ he said, nodding towards the door. ‘TV folk by the looks of the vans.’

Clare frowned. ‘Are they causing an obstruction?’

He shook his head. ‘No, nothing like that. It’s, er, I wondered if I could have a word.’

Clare glanced at Chris then back at the security guard. Then she turned and led him towards one of the small interview rooms. She opened the door and flicked on the light. ‘Please,’ she said, indicating a chair.

He stood for a moment, regarding it, then slowly sat down.

Clare took a seat opposite, Chris at her side. She smiled at Mark and, when he seemed reluctant to speak, she said, ‘Is there something we can help you with?’

He rubbed his chin. ‘It’s just…’

They waited.

‘It’s about Friday night,’ he said, at last. ‘That minibus.’

‘Mr Mooney,’ Clare began, ‘if what you’re about to tell us relates to the killing of Mr Fox then I must caution you formally and record this interview.’

He waved this away. ‘Oh no, it’s nothing like that. You might even have guessed.’

‘Go on, then,’ Clare said. ‘But I will stop you if I feel a formal interview is indicated.’