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“Now I come to think of it, he did seem to cough in certain places this evening, dipping his head like he didn’t want me to see his face. I just took it he was being his usual dick self, but now… Yes, he was a little shifty, but I can’t for the life of me think what was said or done for him to do that.”

At last, Francis was getting through. “So, you agree he’s got something to do with this?”

Cassie gaped at her. “Jason? He’s a prat, but to sink that low? And to be doing shit behind my back while walking beside me?”

Francis would have to pull out the big guns. It seemed she hadn’t got Cassie to see her side of things just yet. She decided to tell her something she’d been pondering on. “Remember Nathan Abbott?”

“What about him?”

“I recall you saying he swore he hadn’t skimmed any of the sex worker takings. Who were those takings given to?”

Cassie grimaced. “Jason.”

“And who did he give them to?”

“Me.”

“So unless he handed them to someone else in between, who else could have scraped off that cash?”

Cassie swallowed. “Bloody hell…”

“And you mentioned he’d gone AWOL for a while after taking Jiang’s body to the factory. A drive to clear his head because he was so angry over what had happened.” Francis laughed bitterly. “Oh, he’s good with the patter, I’ll give him that. But what if he went to shut Brett up? Another coincidence that he was dead when you got there?”

Cassie shoved the blanket off, stood, and walked to the window, parting the grey, crushed-velvet curtain to look out. Was she paranoid Jason had parked out there and watched the house?

“He’d have had blood on him, Mam. Brett’s throat was cut, and I dread to think what happened between his legs because there was blood there, too. Jason’s more of a gun user. Or strangulation.”

“He could have used another method to throw you off.” Francis drank the rest of her whiskey, the liquid burning on the way down. “Think, Cassie. If it’s him, we need to lay a trap. It’s what your dad would tell you—once he’d accepted he’d made an error putting Jason by your side.”

Cassie turned to face her, letting the curtain go. It swished then came to a stop. “That’s what I was thinking, about the trap. I need to catch him in the act, or only tell him something, a lie, and see what he does with it.” She massaged her temples. “I’m too tired tonight, and I’ve still got to fill in the ledger. Maybe we can come up with something between us tomorrow—after I’ve been to see Cheryl. Oh, and I want to chat to Jimmy, see if he’ll be my grass. Do you approve of him?”

Francis nodded, pleased her daughter was asking for her opinion. It meant she didn’t feel so useless. Or was the stress on ‘him’ a barb? She’d take the former, it hurt less. “He’s a rough little twat but a good kid deep down. He could help you with Jason. Your dad used him as a note runner when he was about fifteen. Never gave us a minute’s trouble, always returned with a reply in an envelope he hadn’t opened. Trustworthy. He just needs steering off the weed so his mind is sharper.”

“That’s settled then. I’ll say goodnight now in case you go up while I’m in the office.” Cassie walked over and kissed the top of Francis’ head, then left the room, her shoulders drooped from the effort of the night’s work.

Francis stared into space, thinking. If Lou had intimated as much about Jason, then Francis’ instincts were still working correctly—grief hadn’t dulled her sense of ensuring everything was running smoothly. She picked up her phone and browsed Facebook in her secret account. Her only friend on there was Lou. The green circle was beside her name, indicating she was still up, too. Francis opened WhatsApp, the safest messaging service, although Cassie still insisted on using texts for some reason. Another thing to sway her mind on.

She dashed out a few words.

Francis: What are your thoughts on Jason?

Lou: A shifty little bastard, you know that. Why won’t Cassie use Glen Maddock, for God’s sake? He’s the best man to help her settle in.

Francis: She probably feels she needs someone her own age. Maybe she thinks Glen would butt in and harp on about how Lenny would do it. He wouldn’t, we both know that, but whatever, she has her own mind. I curse Lenny for insisting Jason is her right hand.

Lou: He was weird earlier, that Jason. Weirder than usual.

Francis: I’ve just told her my feelings on the matter. I think he’s behind Brett and Jiang—and Abbott.

Lou: Wouldn’t surprise me.

Francis: The fact Brett knew where the drugs were—and I’m not just talking about them being in the takeaway, but a specific place… Only a few of us know that.

Lou: Did Jason?

Francis: Yes.

Lou: Would any of the others have told?

Francis: They haven’t so far—well, as far as I’m aware. I don’t know how many people Li Jun thinks are in the know, but his family aren’t the type to blab. They know what they’d get if they did.

Lou: When Lenny was around, yes.

It was a good job Francis never took offence when Lou said things like that. She meant well, and anyroad, Francis had told her years ago never to hold back. If Lou had something to say, she must say it. While Francis loved Lenny, he’d sometimes tried to do everything for her, including thinking, and she’d needed Lou to keep her on an even keel where her own opinions were concerned.

But hadn’t she just done that to Cassie, attempt to take over her thoughts?

No, this was business, a different thing entirely.

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