Page 27

Arthur

I t was gone eleven by the time Arthur and Ash got back to St. Tredock.

“Are you heading home now?” Arthur asked as they disembarked from the bus at the harbor.

“I thought I might work in the Loster Pot for a bit. Our Wi-Fi is playing up and I want to have another go at using this password-cracking software. I’ll call you if it works.”

“I can stay and help, if you like?”

“Don’t you need to get back to your wife?”

Arthur glanced toward the cafe. “She’ll be all right without me for a bit longer; her friend’s visiting today.”

They found a table in the corner, and Arthur ordered them coffees while Ash set to work on his laptop. Watching him hunched over the screen, Arthur couldn’t help wondering what it would have been like to have a grandson like Ash. He and Esi had never been blessed with children, despite many years of trying, and as only children themselves, there were no hordes of nephews and nieces round the table at Christmas either. Arthur had made peace with this long ago, although Esi had always found it harder, and her pain still cut Arthur like a knife. She would have been a wonderful mother, and he reckoned he wouldn’t have been too bad a pa either. And maybe one day there would have been a teenager like Ash, shy and bright and kind, sitting at their kitchen table eating Esi’s scones.

“Stop staring at me, Arthur, it’s putting me off.”

“Sorry, lad. I just wish there was something I could do. I don’t like sitting twiddling my thumbs while Nova and Phyllis drive to see Michael and you do all the work here.”

“You can always try and think of more password suggestions,” Ash said. “I’ve tried all the obvious ones—variations on his name, important dates—but maybe you can come up with other ideas?”

“Right you are.” Arthur closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. What kind of password would a private investigator have? Something flashy, no doubt, like Danger0 or JamesBond69 . No, that was ridiculous; Graham Pierce was as unlike 007 as you could get. His password would be something more boring, like the name of his childhood dog or his favorite food. Big Mac? Guinness?

“Have you tried KitKat Chunky?”

Ash looked at him over the laptop screen. “Why would that be his password?”

“He had a drawer full of their wrappers, so I wondered if he might have used his favorite snack.”

The boy shrugged but typed it in. “Nope, that didn’t work.”

“What about Jon Bon Jovi? That was his ringtone.”

“Good idea.” Ash tapped away and sighed. “Not that either.”

“Fair enough. Sorry, I’ll carry on thinking.”

Arthur tried to picture the man’s office. What else had been in there that showed Graham’s interests? But there had been nothing to give any clues about the man’s life, apart from the fact he was clearly single, unhealthy and unhappy.

“Oh my God, that’s it!”

Arthur looked over to see the teenager’s face alight.

“Did you do it?”

“No, you did it. Blazeofglory1965, his favorite Jon Bon Jovi song and his year of birth. Arthur, we’re in!”

Ash angled the laptop round so they could both see the screen. There was only one file in the folder, labeled “27.06.24.” He double-clicked on it and Arthur held his breath as he waited for the file to open.

“The Wi-Fi speed is ridiculously slow here,” Ash said. “It should be any second.”

A moment later, the screen was filled with a large color photo of a very ordinary-looking terraced cottage. There was something vaguely familiar about it and Arthur stared at the image, trying to place where he’d seen it before, but Ash was already scrolling down to the next one. This photo showed the door of the house open but not the person inside. Ash flicked on and a figure emerged in slow motion. Their head was tilted down so Arthur couldn’t see their face, but there was no mistaking who it was.

“Oh shit!” Ash whispered next to him.

He scrolled on and the two of them watched in horrified silence as Phyllis emerged from her house with Craddock on his lead, shut her front door and walked down her path onto the pavement. It was clear she had no idea she was being photographed as she didn’t look at the camera once.

“Why the hell was the private investigator taking photos of Phyllis?” Ash said.

“I have no idea. But it must mean Cynthia was…” Arthur stopped as something occurred to him, and he let out a gasp. “Oh my God, we’ve been such idiots!”

“What?”

“All along, we’ve assumed Cynthia was the one who’d hired Graham to investigate Michael. But what if this had nothing to do with Cynthia? What if Michael was the one who hired the PI?”

“Oh no!” Ash said, his face suddenly pale. “The file’s not named Michael because it’s about him. It’s because he’s the client who paid for the photos.”

“But why would Michael want photos of Phyllis? She never mentioned that she knew him.”

Neither of them spoke for a moment, and Arthur could sense Ash’s brain was whirring like his own. Then the teenager jumped in his seat, grabbing Arthur’s arm.

“What if Michael’s some creepy stalker who’s got it in for Phyllis? And now she and Nova are driving straight into his hands?”

“We need to get in touch with them.” Arthur reached into his pocket and fumbled for his phone. His hands were trembling as he flicked to Nova’s number and pressed dial.

“Damn, it’s gone straight to voicemail,” he said as he heard Nova’s cheery voice. He waited for the bleep. “Nova, this is Arthur. You need to turn around and come back now. It’s too complicated to explain, but we think Michael might have bad intentions for Phyllis. Please, call me as soon as you get this.”

“Do you have a number for Phyllis?” Ash asked as he hung up.

Arthur shook his head. “What if they’re already there, Ash? What if Michael has deliberately lured them into a trap?”

“There’s more photos of Phyllis on here,” Ash said, nodding at his laptop screen. “Graham followed her into the village and around the shops. There are even photos of her going into the community center.”

“I’ll try calling again,” Arthur said, but it still went straight to voicemail. “We need to go after them. Do you know anyone who can drive us?”

“My dad’s away for work with the car so I can’t ask my parents. And none of my mates have driving licenses yet.”

“A cab would cost a fortune, I can’t afford one on my pension. Oh, I wish I still had a car.” Arthur wracked his brains for someone, anyone, they could ask, but most of his friends had given up driving long ago.

Then a thought occurred to him, and Arthur found himself smiling for the first time since they opened the computer file.