mean?’
‘The two men who just left. The big hitters. Dark suits. Bad attitude.’
Amelia faltered, and then said, ‘Just clients.’
‘Empires are built on people like them,’ Charlie said. ‘I salute you, and let God make Oulton a less safe place.’
Amelia didn’t respond, but she stayed in the room.
Charlie opened his eyes. ‘I’ve got some bad news on the murder as well,’ he said.
‘Murder?’ she said, and then, ‘Oh yes, that. What about it?’
‘We won’t get the suspect, if he’s caught,’ Charlie said. ‘The rumours are that the corpse is Billy Privett.’
She nodded but didn’t respond.
‘You don’t sound surprised,’ he said.
‘Rumours travel quickly,’ she said, although she sounded distracted. ‘Are there any suspects?’
‘I don’t know. I didn’t get further than the courtroom.’
She turned and walked out of the room. No pleasantries. He looked out of the window instead. The view was the same as always. Slate rooftops. Telephone wires. He got to his feet and strolled to the glass. The cobbles were worn and streaked with engine oil, the street curving downhill. Charlie looked past all of that and watched the drift of the clouds. He could ignore the files for a moment.
Then something caught his attention. It was a white van further along the street, a logo on the side. It looked like it had just arrived, with two men behind it, one holding a camera.
He groaned to himself. The police had become less keen on passing information to the press since all the phone hacking stories, but the reporter at court had said the rumours came from the local paper, and so they were bound to spread. He left his room, almost knocking the coffee cup out of Donia’s hand as she brought it to him.
Charlie took it from her and went to Amelia’s room. She was standing at the rear window as he went in, looking out. She didn’t have the view that Charlie had, just the yard behind the kebab shop and a row of houses. She went to sit down at her desk.
‘So how do you feel about Billy Privett?’ he said.
‘Why should I feel anything?’ she said, although her tone was unconvincing.
‘Because there is some faint warmth to your blood, that he was a human being you came to know? Or maybe just because he can’t pay you any more money.’
‘He was a client,’ she said. ‘And that’s always been your problem, that you see them as friends, all these wasters.’
‘They are, a lot of them. I grew up in this town. I’m no better than them.’
‘Save your working class guilt, Charlie, because none of them give a damn about you. They would drop you in it quicker than they’d have your wallet.’
‘You’re all heart,’ he said. ‘You better get your sympathetic face ready though. You became Billy’s spokeswoman once he came into the money, and the press are outside.’
‘What, now?’
Charlie nodded. ‘Come on, take a deep breath and think like a real life person. Use words like “regret” and “sorrow”. Good soundbites.’
She scowled. ‘You know I can’t say anything, not without Billy’s consent.’
‘I don’t think he’ll complain too much,’ Charlie said. ‘Billy was good for you, although there is some irony in that someone involved in a high-profile death should end up dying prematurely.’
‘What, like karma?’ Amelia said, and then shook her head. ‘There are things you don’t know. He died an innocent man, you need to remember that.’
‘I’m a lawyer. You don’t need to feed me the line. Not being guilty is a long way from being innocent. A young woman died and he stayed quiet. He could have said something to help the police, even if he had no part in her death. His silence just made him look guilty.’
A look of irritation flashed across her face, but it was fleeting.
‘I’ll say it again,’ she said. ‘He died an innocent man.’
‘If that is going to be his epitaph,
they
need to hear it,’ and Charlie pointed towards her doorway,
‘The two men who just left. The big hitters. Dark suits. Bad attitude.’
Amelia faltered, and then said, ‘Just clients.’
‘Empires are built on people like them,’ Charlie said. ‘I salute you, and let God make Oulton a less safe place.’
Amelia didn’t respond, but she stayed in the room.
Charlie opened his eyes. ‘I’ve got some bad news on the murder as well,’ he said.
‘Murder?’ she said, and then, ‘Oh yes, that. What about it?’
‘We won’t get the suspect, if he’s caught,’ Charlie said. ‘The rumours are that the corpse is Billy Privett.’
She nodded but didn’t respond.
‘You don’t sound surprised,’ he said.
‘Rumours travel quickly,’ she said, although she sounded distracted. ‘Are there any suspects?’
‘I don’t know. I didn’t get further than the courtroom.’
She turned and walked out of the room. No pleasantries. He looked out of the window instead. The view was the same as always. Slate rooftops. Telephone wires. He got to his feet and strolled to the glass. The cobbles were worn and streaked with engine oil, the street curving downhill. Charlie looked past all of that and watched the drift of the clouds. He could ignore the files for a moment.
Then something caught his attention. It was a white van further along the street, a logo on the side. It looked like it had just arrived, with two men behind it, one holding a camera.
He groaned to himself. The police had become less keen on passing information to the press since all the phone hacking stories, but the reporter at court had said the rumours came from the local paper, and so they were bound to spread. He left his room, almost knocking the coffee cup out of Donia’s hand as she brought it to him.
Charlie took it from her and went to Amelia’s room. She was standing at the rear window as he went in, looking out. She didn’t have the view that Charlie had, just the yard behind the kebab shop and a row of houses. She went to sit down at her desk.
‘So how do you feel about Billy Privett?’ he said.
‘Why should I feel anything?’ she said, although her tone was unconvincing.
‘Because there is some faint warmth to your blood, that he was a human being you came to know? Or maybe just because he can’t pay you any more money.’
‘He was a client,’ she said. ‘And that’s always been your problem, that you see them as friends, all these wasters.’
‘They are, a lot of them. I grew up in this town. I’m no better than them.’
‘Save your working class guilt, Charlie, because none of them give a damn about you. They would drop you in it quicker than they’d have your wallet.’
‘You’re all heart,’ he said. ‘You better get your sympathetic face ready though. You became Billy’s spokeswoman once he came into the money, and the press are outside.’
‘What, now?’
Charlie nodded. ‘Come on, take a deep breath and think like a real life person. Use words like “regret” and “sorrow”. Good soundbites.’
She scowled. ‘You know I can’t say anything, not without Billy’s consent.’
‘I don’t think he’ll complain too much,’ Charlie said. ‘Billy was good for you, although there is some irony in that someone involved in a high-profile death should end up dying prematurely.’
‘What, like karma?’ Amelia said, and then shook her head. ‘There are things you don’t know. He died an innocent man, you need to remember that.’
‘I’m a lawyer. You don’t need to feed me the line. Not being guilty is a long way from being innocent. A young woman died and he stayed quiet. He could have said something to help the police, even if he had no part in her death. His silence just made him look guilty.’
A look of irritation flashed across her face, but it was fleeting.
‘I’ll say it again,’ she said. ‘He died an innocent man.’
‘If that is going to be his epitaph,
they
need to hear it,’ and Charlie pointed towards her doorway,
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