I said, he was at the Manor often as well.’
‘Did you like him?’
Chloe’s eyes narrowed.
‘In your opinion what type of man was he? He was in a position of trust and had regular involvement with your family. Did you resent him?’
Chloe had every reason to hate Father Wainwright.
He hid a lot of secrets.
She thought about the day he was murdered. If this detective checked, she’d see she didn’t have an alibi. That might stir up old tensions, uncover barely healed wounds.
Chloe had a split second to decide which card to play.
She smiled and her eyes met Claire’s. ‘I resent what he represented, but that’s my father’s fault, not his, I guess.’
Claire looked at her sceptically but wrote down her words before folding her pad closed.
***
Claire shook Joe Carter’s extended hand. She had all she needed from Chloe for now and was now eager to leave Paradis as soon as possible. Judging by Carter’s body language, it was a feeling shared.
He followed her out of the club, trying to act normally around his clients. He saw Claire to her car outside and tried not to look agitated.
‘I hope Chloe’s not in any kind of trouble, Chief Inspector?’
Claire was expecting this question and looked at him, smiling. ‘Not at all. I’m just making some routine enquiries, that’s all.’
She reached in her jacket pocket and pulled out her card and handed it to him. ‘I gave Chloe my card but I’d like to leave one with you, just in case she misplaces hers.’
Carter studied the card briefly and forced a nod.
He waited until she’d driven out of sight before folding the card in half, ripping it to pieces, and letting them fall, curling and fluttering along the pavement in the gentle evening breeze.
Music raged from flat number 15. The constant thudding baseline from the stereo seemed to rattle the doorframe to the very core.
The huge Rottweiler was pacing the living-room floor, staring at its owner, who was fast asleep on the sofa, the remote control for the television sliding from his hand before thudding onto the exposed floorboards.
The dog padded over to his owner’s hand, sniffed before licking it and whimpered gently. A long trail of drool was hanging from its huge jaw, its pink tongue hanging at one side, panting.
Ashe Miller’s body suddenly jerked, waking him from his slumber as he fell in his nightmare, just catching himself before he fell off the sofa.
The dog barked at him, as he balled his hand into a fist and rubbed his eyes hard. He glanced up at the television, still set on mute as he’d left it.
He shifted his stocky body from the sofa with a grunt and pushed the dog away when it tried to jump up at him on its hind legs. ‘Get down, Clyde.’
Ashe staggered to the bathroom, Clyde in hot pursuit, bounding alongside him, his tail wagging.
Ashe stared at his reflection in the mirror hanging over the small wash-basin and stuck out his tongue. It had a nasty-looking white coating on it, and he pulled a face of disgust.
He leaned in closer to the mirror, pulling at his cheeks, examining his eyes.
His pupils were like saucers. His shock of jet-black hair stood up on end, making him more scarecrow-like than ever. His brown eyes looked like hollow black pits, with dark circles underneath.
He sniffed at his reflection and ignored the sudden knocking at his door. He could just about hear it over the stereo, and as it continued, Clyde began to bark again.
Ashe poked his head around into the living room and stared at the door. He glanced down at his clothes: a faded olive green T-shirt and black boxer shorts.
The knocking continued and Ashe glanced through the spyhole. He banged his forehead hard against the door in frustration and cursed under his breath.
It was another resident and all Ashe knew was that they lived above him.
He threw open the door and stared at the man in front of him, dressed in his pyjamas and dressing-gown. Ashe’s arms were outstretched, gripping either side of the doorframe.
‘Do you have any idea what time it is?’ said the man, his voice raised over the din of the stereo. ‘It’s nearly midnight and I’ve to get up for work in five hours.’
Ashe shrugged his shoulders. ‘How is that my problem?’
The man frowned, taking a step forward. He was taller than Ashe but at least ten years older.
Ashe may have been quite short for a man, but what he lacked in height, he made up for in girth. His T-shirt pulled against his stocky frame, a mixture of muscle and fat caused by too much alcohol.
Still, the man squared up to Ashe and uttered some profanity before hearing a snarl.
Looking down he saw Clyde at Ashe’s side, his teeth bared, ready to strike at the first command. The man looked back at Ashe who grinned, grabbed the collar around Clyde’s neck and yanked him back.
‘He wants to play,’ said Ashe. ‘Shall we see who wins?’ Clyde barked, his jaws and teeth smashing back together, drool splattering over the floor.
The man backed off, pulling his dressing-gown tight around his body. ‘If you could turn the stereo down, I’d appreciate it.’
Ashe made a gesture of a salute. Clyde pulled forward as the man rushed back up the stairs to his floor. Ashe yanked his collar hard, bent down and tried to soothe him with hushed words. When Clyde had calmed down, he licked Ashe’s face, and followed him back inside the flat.
Ashe stopped his CD from playing and replaced it with another one. He hit the play button, turned the volume up higher and grinned before returning to the bathroom.
He found his stash of skunk hidden in a small bag inside an aftershave cap, still attached to a half-empty bottle.
He went back into the living room, slouched on the sofa and reached for the bottle of whisky on the coffee table.
He knocked back a few swigs of the amber-coloured liquid from the bottle and flicked stations on the silent television. He nodded his head to the pounding rhythm from the stereo, and rolled his joint.
***
It was an hour later when Ashe awoke again, still sitting on the sofa. Clyde had gone to his bed in the kitchen and Ashe realised the CD had ended.
So what was that banging noise that’d woken him?
He
