been in. As he got closer he could make out the sign on the door: Clyde White, Site Manager. He knocked twice.
‘Come in,’ came a voice from within. Aiden pushed open the door and was greeted with refreshing cold air, yet there were no fans in sight. This was an air-conditioned building, another indication of Clyde White’s success.
Inside there was large desk, with two leather chairs opposite it. The walls were lined with framed photographs and newspaper clippings. Aiden immediately recognised Brandon in a number of them.
Clyde White was immaculately dressed. He wore a crisp white shirt and grey trousers. His black hair was streaked with silver and his face was heavily lined, yet he was strikingly handsome. He was what Isla would refer to as a ‘silver fox’, meaning that he was a very attractive older man. Beneath the shirt, it was clear that he was in good shape. Aiden felt slightly intimated as he held out his hand and introduced himself.
‘Do take a seat,’ Clyde instructed him. He had the same chiselled jaw and pale blue eyes as his son.
‘Thank you for agreeing to see me,’ Aiden began. ‘I work for Cope and May Solicitors at Law. I am currently representing Brandy White, and as part of my investigations into the case, I am eager to learn more about your son, Brandon.’ At the mention of his son, Clyde White seemed to age ten years.
‘That is, only if it is not too painful to talk about,’ Aiden added, starting to wonder if it had been a bad idea to come and see Mr. White.
‘No, Mr. Connelly, I am always more than happy to talk about my son. He was a truly wonderful young man, an inspiration.’
‘Of course.’ Father West’s cryptic warning to tread carefully lingered in his mind. He knew that if he was going to get any useful information about Brandon from his father he needed to gain his trust first.
‘I’ve read about his triumphant days on his school football team.’ Clyde smiled proudly at this. ‘Did he ever think about going pro?’
Clyde leaned back in his chair, thinking hard. ‘He had the talent, no doubt about that, but he loved his family too much to leave. The good teams, where you could make a career out of playing, were all too far away.’
‘So he worked here?’
‘Sure did. He was my right-hand man and the hardest worker I ever knew. All the guys loved him, I’d hoped that one day he would take over the business for me but now…’ Clyde gazed at his desk in sadness. ‘He was my only son, my only child.’
Any preconceived theories that Aiden had once had were slipping away. Clyde White was shaken to the core over the death of his son whom he had loved dearly. If Brandon was at all like his father – well spoken, intelligent – it was making it even harder to identify a motive for Brandy to have killed him. He knew that he had to dig deeper.
‘What did you think of Brandy?’ Clyde’s face suddenly distorted with disgust.
‘Little tramp. Blinded my son with her butter-wouldn’t-melt face and then…’ Aiden noticed that his fists were now clenched tightly in anger.
‘They were together a long time before it happened. Five years. How did she and Brandon get along?’
‘Fine, they seemed in love. She never came down to the yard when he was working so I didn’t see all that much of her, except the odd weekend when they came over for lunch and on the holidays. She was always polite, bit too quiet really. She never said much, it was clear Brandon didn’t marry her for her brains.’
As discreetly as possible, Aiden switched on the Dictaphone which was concealed in his jacket pocket. Clyde’s perception of Brandy could prove invaluable later on in court.
‘She had a rather, unconventional upbringing,’ he said, trying not to sound too sensitive towards Brandy.
‘Oh yeah, her mother was a whack job. Whole town knew about her troubles. And then that whole beauty pageant thing. We weren’t happy when Brandon started knocking about with her, to say
‘Come in,’ came a voice from within. Aiden pushed open the door and was greeted with refreshing cold air, yet there were no fans in sight. This was an air-conditioned building, another indication of Clyde White’s success.
Inside there was large desk, with two leather chairs opposite it. The walls were lined with framed photographs and newspaper clippings. Aiden immediately recognised Brandon in a number of them.
Clyde White was immaculately dressed. He wore a crisp white shirt and grey trousers. His black hair was streaked with silver and his face was heavily lined, yet he was strikingly handsome. He was what Isla would refer to as a ‘silver fox’, meaning that he was a very attractive older man. Beneath the shirt, it was clear that he was in good shape. Aiden felt slightly intimated as he held out his hand and introduced himself.
‘Do take a seat,’ Clyde instructed him. He had the same chiselled jaw and pale blue eyes as his son.
‘Thank you for agreeing to see me,’ Aiden began. ‘I work for Cope and May Solicitors at Law. I am currently representing Brandy White, and as part of my investigations into the case, I am eager to learn more about your son, Brandon.’ At the mention of his son, Clyde White seemed to age ten years.
‘That is, only if it is not too painful to talk about,’ Aiden added, starting to wonder if it had been a bad idea to come and see Mr. White.
‘No, Mr. Connelly, I am always more than happy to talk about my son. He was a truly wonderful young man, an inspiration.’
‘Of course.’ Father West’s cryptic warning to tread carefully lingered in his mind. He knew that if he was going to get any useful information about Brandon from his father he needed to gain his trust first.
‘I’ve read about his triumphant days on his school football team.’ Clyde smiled proudly at this. ‘Did he ever think about going pro?’
Clyde leaned back in his chair, thinking hard. ‘He had the talent, no doubt about that, but he loved his family too much to leave. The good teams, where you could make a career out of playing, were all too far away.’
‘So he worked here?’
‘Sure did. He was my right-hand man and the hardest worker I ever knew. All the guys loved him, I’d hoped that one day he would take over the business for me but now…’ Clyde gazed at his desk in sadness. ‘He was my only son, my only child.’
Any preconceived theories that Aiden had once had were slipping away. Clyde White was shaken to the core over the death of his son whom he had loved dearly. If Brandon was at all like his father – well spoken, intelligent – it was making it even harder to identify a motive for Brandy to have killed him. He knew that he had to dig deeper.
‘What did you think of Brandy?’ Clyde’s face suddenly distorted with disgust.
‘Little tramp. Blinded my son with her butter-wouldn’t-melt face and then…’ Aiden noticed that his fists were now clenched tightly in anger.
‘They were together a long time before it happened. Five years. How did she and Brandon get along?’
‘Fine, they seemed in love. She never came down to the yard when he was working so I didn’t see all that much of her, except the odd weekend when they came over for lunch and on the holidays. She was always polite, bit too quiet really. She never said much, it was clear Brandon didn’t marry her for her brains.’
As discreetly as possible, Aiden switched on the Dictaphone which was concealed in his jacket pocket. Clyde’s perception of Brandy could prove invaluable later on in court.
‘She had a rather, unconventional upbringing,’ he said, trying not to sound too sensitive towards Brandy.
‘Oh yeah, her mother was a whack job. Whole town knew about her troubles. And then that whole beauty pageant thing. We weren’t happy when Brandon started knocking about with her, to say
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