Just Last Night(86)

“Oh, er . . . let me see. To not look like a heartless brute in front of a pretty girl?” She gestures at me. “You’re saying your sister wouldn’t have lifted the phone and talked to you, when your mother was dying?”

“As I say, I don’t know what Susie thought I knew,” Fin says. “Perhaps she thought I was ignoring her. But no, she wouldn’t. She and I weren’t close.”

“Indeed. Now you’re haring after your father, from whom you are similarly estranged. Why?”

“I don’t think he’s safe to be traveling alone, and I want to get him assessed for care home living before I go back to the States.”

“Do you,” Tricia says, crossing her legs. “Do you? The house would be sold in this scenario, would it?”

I shift in my seat.

“I guess so. What state was he in when he came to see you?”

“He seemed with it for the first few minutes, and it slowly dawns he’s quite gaga. He thinks he and I are still young.”

“Yes, that’s it. He’s present when it comes to practicalities that are in front of him, but in terms of his . . . broader mental architecture, it’s like he’s lost twenty years.”

Fin pauses. “Did he say where he was staying?”

“I wish I could trust your intentions, Fin. I really do,” Tricia says, picking away imaginary lint on her knees.

“How does this judgment upon me work, exactly?” Fin says, frowning now. “You had a feud with my father, you cut my family off. But you still blame me for not getting along with them? I’m guilty of exactly the same thing you are?”

“I couldn’t tolerate your father. I had no argument with your mother and sister. But unfortunately for you, I still have insights into what you put your parents and sister through.”

Fin runs a hand through his hair and looks like he’s concentrating efforts on keeping his temper.

“You didn’t care about your parents. That’s a fact, I’m afraid. Now that you’re the only one left, if you’re insisting on organizing your father’s life, I do wonder if this is about your father’s will.”

Fin goes murderously pale. “It isn’t, but it doesn’t look like my word is worth anything.”

I remember my mission. “Please excuse me, I don’t know any detail of the historic family conflicts, Susie never told me about them . . . and neither has he . . .” I gesture vaguely at Fin. “I’m definitely not in any will, nor do I want to be. But if we don’t find Mr. Hart and make sure he’s OK, he could come to all sorts of harm wandering around a big city in his condition. I know Susie would want me to get him home. That’s the only reason why I’m here.”

“Good cop, bad cop, is it?” Trish says.

“I’m not a cop,” I say, somewhat stupidly. And I don’t understand metaphors! “Of any kind. Every word of that is the truth. I only want what’s best for Mr. Hart’s welfare.”

Tricia looks at me with pursed lips and I assume I’m going to get hosed with scorn too. I’m taken aback when she mutters, with reluctance: “He said he was staying at a hotel, the name escapes me, that’s the truth. Give me your number and, if it comes back to me, I’ll let you know.”

She’s speaking specifically to me. She gets up, roots around in a drawer, and hands me a pen and pad.

I print my number on it carefully as Finlay gets up to leave. As I move to follow him, Tricia discreetly catches my arm. Finlay disappears out into the hallway, and she’s still holding me back, with a steely grip.

“Do not trust him,” she hisses, releasing her grasp. “I mean it. If you have anything about you at all you’ll run as fast as you can in the opposite direction away from that boy.”

“Why?” I say, quaking a little.

“He destroyed that family. I saw what happened. He’s poison. Even his parents said so. Poison.”

“OK . . . Why? I mean, why would he treat them like that?”

“Some people are just born bad,” Tricia says. “I don’t doubt he’s talked a good game to you, and he’s got the looks. But looks can be deceiving.”

“Right.”

She shakes her head at me, with a sour expression. I read it as you won’t listen to me, I’m sure.

My mind is racing and my heart hammering as I walk to the car, its engine running in its parking spot. I’d been so dismissive of Ed and his concerns, but right at this juncture, I take it back. I came here as Finlay’s guest, and I gave away a large degree of my power in doing so. I did it, not knowing who I was ceding that power to. What if I really have been colluding with something—or someone—sinister? He doesn’t seem that way, but perhaps what I’m feeling is the arrogance of anyone who thinks their powers of detection can’t be bypassed. We all think our internal security systems are foolproof, until they’re not. Everyone thinks they know when they’re being lied to. I didn’t spot it when Susie did. Have I missed it with Finlay too?

“What did my aunt say to you then?” Fin asks, as I swing my legs into the footwell.

“Not to trust you,” I say, putting my seat belt on, hoping my hands aren’t betraying the volume of adrenaline washing around my system.

“I did warn you she’s venomous.”