Just My Luck(29)

‘And your wife saw you put that money in the kitty, did she?’ asked Ms Walsh. ‘She saw you recommit to the syndicate.’

‘Yes, she did. She was sitting right next to me.’

‘Interesting,’ murmured Ms Walsh. She couldn’t resist. She flashed a look at Gillian and Mick to be sure they had spotted the inconsistency.

‘How so?’ asked Fred.

‘Well, your wife says that she was away from the table at the time of the discussion on whether or not to recommit. She says she definitely didn’t pull out of the syndicate but perhaps you did.’

Gillian watched as colour, vitality and hope drained from Fred Heathcote’s face. She looked to the floor, fully expecting to see a puddle underneath his chair.

‘She said that, did she?’ Fred’s voice choked in his throat.

Mr Elliott jumped in. ‘I really don’t think we should be discussing other witnesses’ statements.’ Heathcote glared at Elliott; they had gone to school together. Endured masters and bullies but Fred knew his friend was vaguely infatuated with his wife and would not be able to stop himself siding with her. Fred’s godfather was a lawyer – he should have gone with him.

Fred paused. He appeared to be weighing up something important. ‘I’d like to change my statement please.’

‘You would?’ Ms Walsh looked delighted. The Pearsons’ lawyers all steadfastly held their faces in studied expressions of neutrality, waiting to see what would come next.

‘Yes, I’d had a fair bit to drink. To be honest, and I don’t know if I do recall everything as clearly as all that. I think I did put the money in the kitty at the beginning of the night but towards the end of the night perhaps there was talk about pulling out of the lottery.’

‘Perhaps?’

‘Almost definitely. Sorry if I’m a bit vague. I didn’t want to admit to how much I’d had to drink, you can understand, didn’t want to appear like some sort of alki.’ He laughed, self-consciously. But then he stopped laughing altogether and in a strong, confident voice that did not catch in his throat, he declared, ‘I recall it clearly now. Jennifer agreed with the Pearsons, she said the lottery was common. She said Jake Greenwood was common. She was quite particular about that and I wanted to support her. So, yes, we all pulled out. Jennifer is not owed a penny and nor am I, regrettably. I’m afraid I can’t bring myself to support her story or the Pearsons. It’s not fair on Lexi and Jake.’



‘Do we even need to interview Jake Greenwood?’ Gillian asked her boss, Mick. ‘I mean I think it’s quite obvious what’s happening here. It’s open-and-shut. I believe the Greenwoods. These so-called friends of theirs are a bunch of sharks. There are more holes in their stories than there are in my kitchen colander.’

Mick weighed up the situation. The money was already in the Greenwoods’ account. Some of it spent. The lottery company did not have a legal responsibility to do any more than pay out to the ticket holder, providing there was a reasonable proof that the ticket holder had bought the ticket. That was not in doubt. The lottery company were involving themselves in an effort to de-escalate this situation. No one wanted a scandal.

All the lawyers in the room shuffled their papers. Gillian was right: there were a number of inconsistencies and now a mid-interview statement change.

‘I agree we can all go home right now,’ says Ms Walsh. It was a hot day, her shirt was sticking to her back. She was imagining a long cool shower.

Terrance Elliott, the Heathcotes’ lawyer, looked pained. He clearly thought they probably should call it a day, his clients having been the least reliable throughout the inquiry. He was disappointed. He had become embroiled in this because he thought the Heathcotes were good sorts – the type that paid their taxes, never cheated on insurance, Jennifer baked cakes for the school fair, Fred loaned out his power tools to his neighbours. They followed these rudimentary human standards. He hadn’t wanted to see them cheated. However, it soon became apparent that their morality was vague and untested. When Jennifer claimed she was in the loo at the most significant point in the evening, he’d gathered it was because she didn’t want to tell a lie but nor did she want to sell her husband up the swanny either. Mr Elliott had rather admired her for that, even if she wasn’t being scrupulously honest, she was being loyal. But then Fred changed his story, admitted he’d had a few and that they had left the syndicate after all. Rather embarrassing for all concerned. Terrance Elliott didn’t want to judge, but he also didn’t want to risk his own reputation. It was obvious that the Heathcotes and Pearsons had pulled out of the lottery. Damned bad luck, but there you had it.

‘I’d like to interview Mr Greenwood,’ insisted Piper-Dunn. ‘There still might be a case.’ He was an experienced lawyer and knew that perhaps the Heathcotes’ unreliability could work in the Pearsons’ favour. Confusion could be a friend of the lawyer. Results could stand very proudly apart from either justice or truth. Clarity was the killer.

Mick Hutch sighed. ‘I think you are most probably right, Gillian, but we ought to talk to Jake, if only to be seen to be fair and consistent. We’ve spoken to everyone else.’

Gillian stood up and opened the door to the hot, stuffy room. Jake Greenwood was sitting on a bench outside. She beckoned him in.

‘Mr Greenwood. Thank you for your patience and thank you for agreeing to talk to us about the night in question.’