Page 39 of Worse Than Murder

‘My point is, everyone mentioned in the article made a comment, but Travis didn’t. Despite his name being printed, he wasn’t quoted.’

‘Like I said, he gave nothing away. Every question put to him, about anything, was met with a monosyllabic answer.’

‘There’s a difference between being private and having something to hide.’

‘You think he had a past?’

‘We all have a past.’

‘True. But how dark do you think his went?’

‘That’s what I’m hoping you’re going to be able to tell me.’

‘Leave it with me. Travis Montgomery is hardly John Smith, is it? There can’t be many of them knocking about. By the way, I’ve tracked down the Pemberton twins’ teacher, Damien Ashton. He no longer teaches, hardly a surprise, and he’s back living in Cumbria at Seascale on the other side of Scafell Pike. I have his email address and his mobile number, if you’re interested.’

‘Wow. You’re really good.’ I’m impressed.

‘I could amaze you with my journalistic skills, but he’s put his entire life on social media. Between LinkedIn and Facebook, I’m pretty sure I could empty his bank account.’

‘Pillock. I think he might be worth chatting to. Even if he isn’t involved in their disappearance, he knew the girls so he might be able to give us some insight into how they were behaving at the time.’

Tania tears off a page of her notebook and hands it to me. She gives me a winning smile. ‘I’m so glad you came here. I shall give thanks to St Francis de Sales, the patron saint of journalists, for bringing you to me.’

‘Save your thanks for now. With my track record, I may end up destroying your village.’

‘Now that would definitely make for a fun front-page lead.’

As I pull up outside Nature’s Diner, Sally opens the door to the restaurant and comes running down the steps.

‘Matilda, you’ve got a visitor,’ she says.

‘Really? Nobody knows I’m here.’

‘It’s Lynne Pemberton. Alison’s mother.’

‘What does she want with me?’

‘I’ve no idea. I told her you weren’t in, but she said it was urgent. She was pacing up and down out here for ages. It took all my powers of persuasion to get her to come inside. She seems very edgy. The power’s just come back on so I’m going to make her a coffee. Do you want one?’

I look up at the restaurant and see the head of a woman sitting at a table in the window.

‘As if you have to ask.’

We enter the restaurant, and Sally goes over to the coffee machine while I approach Lynne. From behind, I can see that she seems tense. Her shoulders are up beneath her ears; her hands, knitted together on the table, are squeezed hard, the knuckles almost white. Below the table, her left leg is jiggling. This is a nervous woman.

‘I believe you’re waiting for me. Matilda Darke,’ I say as I approach.

Lynne turns and looks me up and down. ‘Oh. You’re Matilda Darke?’

‘Yes.’

‘I expected you to be taller. I don’t know why.’

I pull out the chair opposite and sit down. ‘I expected me to be taller, too. I’m guessing I’m too old for a growth spurt.’

Lynne gives a weak smile as Sally comes over with the coffees on a tray.

‘Here we are,’ she says with all the jollity she usually reserves for paying customers. ‘Can I get you anything else?’