Hit and Run by Maria Frankland (best book recommendations txt) 📗

results back today from the tyre that was removed from your vehicle.”

“It wasn’t my vehicle!” God, they won’t leave this alone. “Anyway, what about James Turner? When are you going to question him? And Denise Matherson. She didn’t have an alibi for last Monday either. Plus, I’ve told you now about the damage to her car.”

“We are talking to them. Right, I am ending this interview at 12:30 pm. We’ll be in touch Fiona. In the meantime, we’ve finished with your phone if you’d like to sign for it on your way out.”

“Can I have a few minutes with my client, please?” Alan looks up from the notes he has been making.

“Certainly. We’ll leave you to it.”

As the door clicks behind them, I take a sip from my water bottle and look expectantly at Alan. “Well, at least they haven’t charged me.”

“Their investigation is all over the place.” He pauses for a moment, then says, “I cannot understand why they haven’t impounded your car, and those text messages prove nothing. But it’s true you do appear to be the one with most motive in their eyes, and the person who would have had most cause to have taken revenge on your husband.” He runs his finger down the notes he has been making. “However, they’ve got to prove with no doubt, that it was you that took the car for repair.”

“How can they do that when I was at home?”

“With a lack of CCTV, perhaps the garage staff would have to choose you out of an identification parade.”

“I said that to the police in the first interview. That would sort it once and for all. But let’s say they did pick me out, that still wouldn’t put me on Denton Road at half past ten, would it?”

“True. Let’s wait and see what their car forensics and CCTV investigation throw up. Then, once they’ve spoken to this James Turner chappie, we will see if you’re looking at fraud charges.”

“For what?”

“The monies that have been embezzled from Rob’s former employers. If they have shown you to have accessed your joint account or made any transactions, that could be aligned with you knowing about what was going on.”

“I don’t see how they can pin any of that on me. Just because it went into our joint account. I hate that man, his boss. He’s always looked down his nose at me.”

“Just sit tight Fiona. Over the next couple of days, it sounds as though they will receive further results, and will be asking questions of James Turner and Denise Matherson. Let’s wait and see.” He slides all the papers into his briefcase and fastens it with a click.

“But if you think of anything, or find something out, get in touch with me straight away. And in the meantime, for goodness sake, stay away from Bryony Rose.”

* * *

All is quiet and still.

Especially Robert Matherson.

Chapter 32

I’ve been told to stay away from Bryony Rose, but not Phillip Bracken. When I drive past Bracken Furniture on my way home, and spot his huge car outside, I pull up. It’s definitely his. PB 1001. Bastard.

Rob often commented about him working on Sundays. Since his wife left him, he’s become a complete workaholic. It’s how he’s got to where he is. I cross the road towards the main entrance. It’s set back from the rest of the businesses, in between a hair salon and a sandwich shop. Rob used to rave about the sandwiches from there and sent his secretary most days. Before he got fired.

I stand in front of the double doors, noticing a security camera bearing down on me. I can’t get into any trouble for simply being here. Nor have they instructed me not to be. I’m not committing any crime by merely talking to the man. But there’s no denying that I’m more infuriated after the police interview and hearing DI Green categorically stating how Phillip Bracken credits me as being the brains behind Rob’s fraud.

I’ve been to this building several times. Never right inside though. I would usually just drop something off at reception. Rob’s cycling shorts or his golf clubs – something like that. I never saw Rob’s upstairs office in all the years he was here. The car park at the front is normally heaving, the road heavy with traffic, and a buzz of conversation emerging from the office floor. Today, all is quiet and still.

“Hello?” I call into the silence, my voice probably bearing traces of surprise at finding the door unlocked. There’s a whiff of furniture polish and a blank space where a photograph should be within the management gallery. The Director of Finance sign still hangs there. My stomach twists. There’s a rectangle of brighter paint where Rob’s photograph once hung.

On hearing a creak from the upstairs landing, I straighten up. As I catch the sound of footfall on the steps, my chest quickens and my breath catches. He’s coming. I’ve always found Phillip Bracken intimidating, but normally I’ve had the benefit of some Dutch courage before having to deal with him. I’ve been able to give him as good as I got. From what I can remember, anyway.

“What are you doing here?”

The distaste in his voice couldn’t be more apparent. My anger immediately flares, but that’s not the way. He’s not better than me. I’ve got to face him as an equal. It’s the only way this conversation will go anywhere. I’ve never seen him so casually dressed. He’s wearing combat shorts and a Levi t-shirt. I’d be surprised if he had met no one else since his wife left him. I guess he’s quite a catch. Even if he’s an arsehole.

“I saw your car outside.”

“That still doesn’t explain what you are doing in my building.” He arrives at the foot of the stairs and faces me. “You weren’t invited; therefore, you are trespassing.”

I shrug and gesture towards the entrance. “The door was unlocked.”

“What do you want, anyway? And make it quick.”

“Why do