Daisy in Chains(88)

‘Bear stopped it,’ she says. ‘He won’t start it again until he sees my signal.’

‘Whatever the signal is, give it now,’ Maggie says. ‘I won’t ask you again.’

She waits. Three, five seconds. Enough. Forcing herself to move, because movement of any sort at this height feels unwise, she tugs off one glove and finds her phone.

Sirocco lunges towards her. Maggie pulls back and the seat swings. She feels a moment of paralysing fear when she realizes she is staring directly at the ground, then the seat rights itself and her phone is tugged from her hand.

‘Give me that back.’

Sirocco stretches out her right arm, dangling the phone in mid-air. Her mismatched eyebrows lift as she opens her fingers.

Maggie grips the seat and peers down. There is no one on the ground close enough to hear her shout, and shouting will make her look as though she is panicking.

‘Every second we are up here increases the trouble you will be in when we get down,’ she says. ‘Tell Bear to start the wheel again now.’

‘What do you really want with Hamish?’

‘We can talk when we’re back on the ground.’

‘He’s in love with me, you know. When he gets out, we’re going to be together.’

‘Good for you. In which case, you should be doing everything you can to cooperate with his lawyer, instead of putting her life at risk like this.’

‘That stupid woman, his mother, she doesn’t know anything. I visit him all the time. He writes to me.’

‘Then you should know that the only chance he has of getting out of prison alive is if I can find new evidence. I cannot do that stuck at the top of a Ferris wheel. You are being very foolish and making me extremely angry.’

‘You say you’re his lawyer.’

‘I am his lawyer. Get us down from here now.’

‘You say that, but you’ve done nothing. He’s no closer to getting out than he was before. You can’t do it, can you? You’re just stringing him along, making him like you, keeping him to yourself.’

‘Be reasonable. I’ve only been working on his case for a few weeks. The police had months and months.’

‘Tell me what you’ve done. Tell me what you’ve found out.’

‘Absolutely not. That is confidential to my client. Ask him about it, if you’re so close.’

‘I will. I’ll ask him next time I see him.’

‘Good. I’m glad that’s settled. Can we go down now?’

Sirocco takes hold of the safety bar with one hand and, for a split second, Maggie thinks she is going to force it open. Instead, she keeps her other hand on the back of the seat and starts swinging.

The chairs are designed to rock, it is part of the thrill of the ride, but usually on a warm summer’s day. Rocking in the dead of night, in the midst of a strong wind and on equipment that might not be entirely sound, is another matter altogether.

‘What did Odi tell you?’

This again? It is hard to speak, rather than gasp. ‘Nothing. I wanted her to try hypnosis. She refused and became frightened.’

Not as frightened as Maggie is right now.

‘I think you’re right,’ Maggie says. ‘I think she did know something, but she didn’t tell me.’

‘Who then? Who did she tell?’

‘Broon, possibly, but he’s dead too.’

‘Who else?’

‘There was no one else.’

The wheel is moving again. Is she sure? Yes. Oh, thank God. They are no longer at the crest of the wheel, but coming back down the other side. Several people, including one large figure wearing a reflective coat are gathered on the platform below. The seat descends further and she can see the shiny white stripes on a uniformed peaked cap. A police officer is looking up at them.

At her side, Sirocco actually growls with frustration.

‘I bloody well told you. That lot are mental.’ Pete is waiting for her when she has given her statement. He takes her arm and she thinks other people seem to be deciding her movements this evening. Sirocco persuading her, against her better judgement, to get on to the Ferris wheel, the police constable sent by Pete leading her to a patrol car, the detective who took her statement. And now Pete, steering her out of the back door of the police station. If they keep it up, she may lose the ability to direct her own actions.

‘What will happen to her?’

‘Sirocco, aka, Sarah Smith?’ Pete holds open the door and she steps outside. His car is parked near by. ‘We’ll probably charge her with assault under the Offences Against the Person Act. That would mean magistrates’ court tomorrow, probably Minehead. There’s a good chance she’ll be released on bail, though, so you might want to think about a restraining order. In you jump.’

‘I need to find my own car. I expect it’s still at the fairground.’

‘It’s at your house. I had someone drive it round. Are you going to keep me out here all night?’

She sinks down. The driver’s seat groans as he joins her and starts the engine.

‘What if I need to talk to her again?’

‘You don’t.’ He is intent on the road, driving too fast, the way police officers invariably do. ‘We ran her fingerprints as a matter of course. Turns out they were the ones on that paper rose that we couldn’t trace before. Looks like she was the one who came into your house that night, leaving billets-doux under the table.’