Good Girl, Bad Girl(83)

“You saw her?”

“No. I told the caterers to tell her.”

Jimmy makes an exasperated sound, suddenly less certain than before. “Who is this witness?” he asks skeptically.

“The person who drove Jodie here and watched her walk through the gates,” replies Lenny, studying Jimmy’s reaction. “For the record, when did you last see Jodie Sheehan?”

“Not that night.”

“When?”

“A few weeks ago. Dougal asked me to be Jodie’s sponsor. I covered some of her travel expenses, a few grand here and there.”

“How did you pay the money?” asks Lenny.

“Directly to Dougal. But I told Jodie that if she ever needed anything, she should come and see me.”

The statement resonates deep within me. Jimmy made the same promise as we watched the caskets of my parents and my sisters being wheeled from the cathedral. He had no ulterior motive. It’s what he does.

“Is Dougal Sheehan working today?” asks Lenny.

Jimmy glances towards a four-car garage where two of the doors are open.

“Please don’t harass a grieving father.”

“Thank you for your cooperation, Councilor,” says Lenny.

Jimmy tries to match her politeness but hasn’t taken his eyes off me. He thinks I’m responsible for bringing the police to his doorstep, for failing to warn him.

“You should have called,” he mutters when Lenny is out of earshot.

“I don’t have a phone.”

*

Dougal is polishing the Range Rover as we step into the dark cool of the garage, which smells of wax and window cleaner. He shakes out a cloth and dabs his brow before tucking it into the pocket of a vinyl apron that is protecting his clothes.

Lenny isn’t as polite as the last time she spoke to him.

“Why didn’t you tell us you were working for Councilor Verbic on the night Jodie disappeared?”

“I said I was driving a cab—same difference. I picked people up. I dropped them off.”

“Did you see Jodie that night?”

“No.”

“But she was here,” I say.

Dougal looks genuinely surprised.

“Jodie was dropped outside the gate just after nine o’clock.”

“Why would she come here?” asks Dougal.

“We’re hoping you can tell us that.”

He looks from Lenny to me and back again. “Did Jimmy see her?”

“Councilor Verbic doesn’t recall seeing Jodie that night.”

I notice a faint tremor in Dougal’s left hand, which isn’t a sign of infirmity. He doesn’t know how to react or what to say.

“Did Jodie know where you were working?” asks Lenny.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Has she been here before?”

“Once or twice. I can’t be sure.”

“If we have forensic officers look at these vehicles, are they going to find Jodie’s DNA inside?”

Dougal’s gaze drops to his feet as though he’s standing on the edge of a cliff, unsure of whether he should jump. “She’s been in the Silver Shadow.”

“With Jimmy.”

“Yeah. We picked her up from skating practice and drove her to school.”

Lenny is walking around the Rolls-Royce. She cups her hands to peer into each window, deliberately leaving smudges on the glass.

“What else do you do, for Councilor Verbic?” she asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Ever run errands?”

“Yeah, sometimes.”

“Pick people up.”

“Sure.”

“Drugs?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Why would Jodie have a burner phone?”

“A what?”

“A cheap disposable phone,” says Lenny. “We also found spare SIM cards and hidden cash in her locker—all the trappings of a spy or a terrorist or a drug dealer.”

A light seems to trigger behind Dougal’s eyes, something red and bright, that flares and remains burning. For a moment I think he might tell us something important, but instead his voice drops to a harsh whisper.

“Our Jodie was raped and murdered. She was left to die alone in a dark cold place. I thought nothing could be more horrible than seeing my baby girl in the morgue, but I was wrong. This is worse. You’re the real monsters.”





44




* * *





CYRUS




* * *



“What did you make of that?” asks Lenny, shaking Tic Tacs into the palm of her hand. She rattles the container, offering me some. I refuse.

We’re still parked outside Jimmy Verbic’s house, sitting in her unmarked police car. An elderly couple shuffles past. The husband rocks forward on a walker and his wife pauses at each intersection to wait for him.

“Jodie didn’t come here looking for her father,” I say.

“Agreed.”

“She came to deliver something or ask for something.”

“I’m listening.”

“How much do you know about Felix Sheehan?”