‘Lager?’ offered Harry. The deckchair creaked as he heaved himself out of it. Harry’s built like a rugby player and looks like a farmhand; thatched hair and hands like hams.
‘Mmm.’ He fetched me a cold can and opened a sun lounger for me. Bliss.
Harry was eager to hear how I’d got on at the clubs. I described my sorties into Manchester night-life and sketched in the unpleasant facts I’d heard from Martin.
‘I felt so stupid.’
‘I can imagine. So it’s over?’
‘Well…’ I told him about the phone call from Mrs Hobbs.
‘In the end I agreed to take the letter. I had to stop her barging in. She needs help.’ I sighed.
‘You never met the father?’
‘No, thank God. So instead of it all being done and dusted, now I’ve got to play postman.’
‘Woman.’
‘Okay,’ I pretended to kick him. ‘Plus, there’s the funeral.’
‘The guy you found?’
I told Harry all about JB, confessing my doubts about the official version of his death. He heard me out. Harry’s a good listener, he’s not averse to using a little imagination and I can trust him to keep confidences. When I’d finished, he sat quietly for a moment, chewing his lip. ‘Who’d want to get rid of him?’
‘I dunno. It’s full of holes, I know. Everyone else thinks it’s cut and dried.’ I drained my can. ‘You couldn’t really attack someone with a loaded syringe, could you?’
‘Not easy to find a vein. No, it’s pretty unlikely. But just suppose someone did want him out the way, why choose to do it like that? There are simpler ways of killing someone.’
‘That’s obvious,’ I replied. ‘No-one would suspect foul play. Once a junkie, always a junkie. They wouldn’t expect a murder enquiry; no questions, no trouble. They were right about that.’
Harry chewed his lip again.
‘You think I’m wrong, don’t you?’
He grimaced. ‘It’s a bit thin.’
I sighed. Crumpled the empty can.
I loved Harry. It wasn’t physical; he was too big and beefy for my liking. But I was drawn to him and sometimes wondered what it would be like to sleep with him; whether we might have an affair if anything happened to end his relationship with Bev. Strictly fantasy. They were a happy pair. Still…
‘I’m all for hunches, Sal. But that’s all you’ve got. No motive, no evidence, nothing. You’re going to have to fill in the picture a bit more to convince anyone.’
‘Hang on,’ I said. ‘I’ve no intention of reopening the case or whatever they call it. I guess all I need is to hear from someone who knew JB well that he really was clean, that he didn’t lie to me, or…’
