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arresting helpful people. And he didn’t have Dean’s glued-on glare. Terry had quite nice eyes. I snuck another look as I shook his basket. Those eyes were a faded, comfortable kind of blue. He had a thickish lower lip, tender looking, like it could be nice to kiss.
    Pull your-bloody-self together, Cass.
    Trouble was, how could I tell him about the briefcase without going into the finer points about Mona’s body? I didn’t want Dean in trouble for botching up the job.
    â€˜If I knew anything, I’d tell you.’ I smiled as I fibbed. ‘What I do know is that Clarence paid a suspiciously large sum of rent.’
    I served Terry’s order on a plate at the table. The poor fella deserved to sit and eat properly, instead of filling up his car with the smell of fish. And he looked like he could do with some company.
    â€˜Yeah. He’s one of the Muddy Soak Hocking-Lees,’ said Terry. ‘No shortage of cash in that family.’
    â€˜So Brown isn’t his real name?’
    â€˜Told you that, did he? Nope, he’s a Hocking-Lee. And Clarence is his grandma’s grandson, all right. Although he’s not up to the atonement stage just yet,’ he said.
    â€˜Oh? Mona got something to atone for?’
    â€˜You haven’t heard of her? Heard of Kota though, I bet.’
    â€˜Um. Course.’ Who the hell was Coata?
    â€˜Mona was never prosecuted for that.’
    â€˜Uh-huh. Why was that exactly?’ I carried on with my auto-wiping of the counter.
    Terry was a bloke who ate with sincerity. I’ve always liked a fella who knows how to appreciate a plate of chips.
    â€˜Well, the CEO was convicted, finally, last year. He got two years. Mona was the major shareholder, said she didn’t know about the safety standards. Or lack of.’ He ate another chip. ‘The company paid out compensation. Didn’t bring anyone back, of course. Or their farmland. Soon after, Mona set up all her environmental charities.’
    He must have seen the confusion on my face. ‘Kota,’ he said. ‘You know, that gas leak in India. Killed thousands of people.’
    Ah, Kota . ‘Yep, yep,’ I said. ‘So what’s Clarence got to atone for?’
    But Terry was eating with some concentration. Polishing off his chips, he leaned back in the chair and put his hands behind his head. ‘You’re lucky, you know, running your own show. I’ve always fancied a little takeaway shop.’ He had that dreamy I’ve-just-eaten look. ‘By the sea, somewhere I could fish. In the evenings, I’d do a bit of wood-carving, listen to the waves hissing up the shore.’ He sighed. ‘You can tire of big-town life. Especially in a life like mine. Especially at the moment.’
    I nodded. Let Terry keep his dream. No need to give him any depressing little communiqués on how those wood-carving evenings would be spent standing over a trough of boiling oil six nights a week. ‘Yep, she’s a dream life. Couldn’t ask for more.’
    A pause.
    â€˜Terry, why are you looking for Clarence? What’s he done? Did he do something to that Pittering fella?’
    He looked at his watch. ‘Listen, I’ve got to go. But…’ he paused.
    He ripped off a piece of chip paper and wrote something down. ‘My mobile number. Call me if you remember anything. Anything at all. Any time.’ His warm hand brushed mine as I took the paper. He hurried over to the door.
    â€˜Did Clarence…kill him?’
    Terry turned and stared at me. It was hard to work out his expression. Scared, maybe? He moved suddenly, as if trying to jolt himself awake.
    â€˜No, no. There’s been no crime in Muddy Soak for more than twenty years.’ He laughed, a forced kind of laugh, then shot out the door.
    I guess for cops, a crime-free town would have to get pretty tedious.

Googling Mona Hocking-Lee, Muddy Soak , I found her house. Hocking