Bad Sister(66)

Connie gathered her bags and set off, head down, her pace as quick as she could manage.

‘Ooh-ooh, Connie!’ a high-pitched voice called.

Connie closed her eyes briefly, sighing loudly, but carried on moving. Perhaps Kelly would give up following.

‘Connie, wait up.’

No. Of course she wouldn’t give up. Connie stopped. Might as well let her have her usual dig, get it over, then she’d leave her be.

‘What do you want, Kelly?’ Connie turned sharply, Kelly almost bumping into her.

‘Ah, well. I was wondering how things were, you know – things have been rotten for you. I heard the dreadful news about your client killing herself, murdering her beautiful child—’

‘She did not kill herself, or her son!’ Connie said, then instantly regretted her words. She’d played right into Kelly’s hands.

‘Oh, and why do you think that? Do you know something, Connie? If it wasn’t suicide, then you must think she was killed. Do you know by who?’ The woman tripped along beside Connie, her annoying voice, grating.

‘I never said that. Don’t put words in my mouth.’

‘You said she didn’t commit suicide. How else would you like me to take that?’

Connie didn’t respond. They were level with the park. She didn’t want Kelly following her any further, finding out where she lived. She walked to a free bench and placed her bags on it.

‘Look, Kelly. I know you think there’s some fabulous story here, one which will catapult you into stardom, or some such shit. But you’re toying with people’s lives. Using them. Does that feel good? Knowing you’re trampling on others to get up the rungs to the top of the ladder?’

‘That’s not what I’m doing. I’m simply seeking the truth. I’ve always endeavoured to find the real news, the nitty-gritty. Not some chocolate-covered candy version.’

‘You just want to dig in the dirt. You’re nothing but a pig, hunting for truffles.’

Connie was surprised to hear a laugh.

‘Very good, Connie. I didn’t know you were funny. Humorous is not one of the words I’ve heard others use to describe you.’

She was goading her again. Wanting her to ask who had said what in relation to her character. She wouldn’t give her that satisfaction.

‘Was there something you wanted to discuss, Kelly, or are you merely wanting to wind me up?’

Kelly sniffed, and readjusted her large shoulder bag. ‘I guess what I really wanted to know was why you have been seen fraternising with ex-convicts?’

‘Fraternising?’ Connie shouted, instantly losing her cool. ‘What on earth are you implying?’

Kelly reached into her bag and retrieved a camera.

Connie’s chest tightened. She picked her bags up and pushed past Kelly. ‘Fuck off, you horrible, irritating woman.’ Her face was on fire. She hated this woman.

‘What better way to get revenge on the man who ruined your career without having to get your own hands dirty – get a known criminal to do it for you. A bit lax of you, though, being seen in a public place together. I gave you more credit than that.’

Connie swung a bag around, hard, catching Kelly’s knee.

‘Ow!’ She lifted the camera, clicking away as Connie turned away from her and walked towards the gap in the hedge. ‘That’s assault, that is,’ Kelly shouted after her. ‘Hit a nerve, did I? He was right about you.’

Connie wanted to stop and ask who? Who was right about her? What did she mean? But, having already shown anger, she daren’t hang around for another battle.

Once she was safe behind her closed door, Connie allowed the hot tears to course unheeded down her cheeks. Her breath escaped in shallow pants. Her limbs ached with the weight of the bags. Her headache was back.

The only person Kelly could have been referring to when she said ‘He was right about you’ was Niall. Niall must have given Connie’s name to the reporter. Niall had something to do with those photos and had leaked the information about them to Kelly.

Niall was a back-stabbing, untrustworthy creep.

Maybe he was also a murderer.





CHAPTER SEVENTY


Connie


What should she do about Niall? She’d confided in Lindsay, so she was aware of the bird tattoo, and Lindsay had said that they were delving further into his story, his alibi. So, apart from avoiding any contact with him for the moment, she supposed there wasn’t much else she could do.

Usually on a Saturday, Connie would relax, watch a movie, stuff her face with calorie-laden delights, read a book. But today her mind couldn’t settle; it drifted as she watched TV. Whatever was on didn’t stop her thoughts coming back to Steph. Rather than fight it, she got her laptop and loaded her client files. She always backed them up so they were on her work computer and her personal laptop – she didn’t trust technology and certainly didn’t want to lose all her valuable data.

Now, Amber draped beside her, Connie read through Steph’s file, focusing on the redacted psychological report Miles had sent her. She’d already read it but it felt important to keep returning to it. Sometimes details could be missed in the first read. The more she read, the more she became unsettled by what was within the sentences, and what remained unsaid between the lines. Steph and her mum’s relationship seemed to have been good prior to the fire. No real issues. But, afterwards, Steph’s apparent feeling of abandonment went deeper than would have been expected of the situation. Something in the way the psychiatrist had worded the report niggled Connie. She seemed to be pointing to the fact that Steph – Jenna back then – held a grudge towards her mum. What stood out for Connie was the scribbled handwritten note in the margin: Consider BPD due to amount of rage that Jenna demonstrates.