A Chance Encounter Rae Shaw (ebook reader with built in dictionary .txt) 📖

The door shut behind her, quietly. Ellen was gone, possibly indefinitely and he wanted to mourn the breakup but it wasn't happening; the feeling of loss wasn't forthcoming.

He ignored the beer bottles and poured a large measure of whiskey out of the decanter. His hand shook as he swallowed. It burnt a line down his throat and he spluttered. He picked up the piece of paper, scrunched it into a ball and threw it in the bin in the kitchen. If Julianna contacted him, he would blow her off. He would rather be alone for the weekend. She couldn't contact him anyway. Nobody could – his mobile phone was bust, he had no landline and his laptop was in a drawer at work.

He laughed and laughed until tears poured down his cheeks.

  23

Julianna

The last place Julianna wanted to be on a wet afternoon was stuck inside a car. Even though it was a luxury vehicle, she wasn't comfortable being cooped up. Her twitchy legs needed exercising. There were other drawbacks: when she drove, she didn't get to choose the radio station. She was a taxi driver without any perks.

Her first pick up at 4 p.m. was Sophia Crawford, long term girlfriend of Luke Haynes, and close friend of Hettie. Sophia's office was in Aldgate. A narrow building slotted amongst other equally unremarkable facades that stretched along the street. She waited outside at the appointed time. Hooting the horn was forbidden, as was texting to alert anyone of her arrival. Julianna couldn't demand a passenger hurry up. Her time wasn't precious; it was already paid for.

Sophia dashed out of the office under the cover of an umbrella. Julianna held the rear car door open for her. She didn't need to be told where to go, she had the itinerary printed on a sheet. Holland Park, then onto Fasleigh, far outside the city. The children had gone on ahead with the nanny in a car driven by Tess, hence the need for an extra driver. The family was gathering for the weekend.

Before collecting Hettie, she and Sophia had half an hour alone in the car. Julianna itched to ask Sophia about Mark's father, but it wasn't her place to initiate conversations. Her analytical mind buzzed with a barrage of questions, especially about the mysterious witness Sophia had successfully tracked down. The minutes ticked by, wasted minutes. She tried a smattering of random coughs and tapping her fingers on the steering wheel.

‘So,’ said Sophia, dropping her mobile out of sight, ‘done any more investigations?’

Julianna avoided a wandering cyclist with a gentle swerve before answering. ‘Yes, just finished one today with Mark. Dodgy investments, skimming profits and tax evasion.’

In the mirror, Julianna saw Sophia sweep her hand over her head in a mock gesture. ‘Beyond me.’

‘Your clients aren't into that kind of thing, I guess.’

‘Mine? Er, no. It's mainly petty, repeat offenders. Never their fault, of course. Always the police that stitched them up. I'm their agony aunt, a shoulder to cry on.’

‘Couldn't do that myself.’ Julianna was the tough arm of the law. The cynic in her would listen to those sob stories and pitiful excuses, and shrug them off.

‘Neither can I sometimes.’ The laugh was half-hearted. ‘Taking responsibility is sadly not part of a criminal's psyche. They feel forgotten by society, and will take what they can. To be honest, I can't blame some of them.’

‘Except the violent ones?’

‘Yes, except them.’ Sophia's voice drifted away behind the roar of a motorcycle.

Julianna decided to use the acknowledgement. ‘Mark's father must have been a disappointment?’

‘For Mark, naturally, but I wasn't the slightest bit surprised to confirm his guilt. The evidence Mark passed on to me was pretty damning.’

‘If you don't mind me asking, how did your find that witness? Eight, nine years, have passed, and nobody else managed.’ Julianna twisted her head for a fraction of a second, and caught hold of Sophia's blue eyes.

The rain had stopped. She switched off the wipers. The traffic outside went quiet, almost distant.

‘Oh.’ Sophia cleared her throat. ‘It's one of those things, you know. Who knows who.’

‘You know the witness?’

‘Me, personally? No. He moved south and disappeared for a long while. One of my clients knows him. As you can appreciate, these people, men mainly, are in and out of prison, and they build their networks. It's like a tangled web, interconnected through key people or events. So, you follow one name, you're led to another, then another.’

‘I understand.’ Julianna relied on a similar network of informants, private investigators and law enforcers to bridge the gaps, allowing her to ask questions without the keeper of the information ever knowing who was the actual originator of the question.

‘I have a client, let's call him John. A little speck when compared to the big players, but none the less, an ear to the ground type. He likes to lay it on thick about his importance. Frankly, he's a little dim, and unreliable. I've represented him several times and he’s often failed to turn up at court or pay his fines, so I got the blunt end of the magistrates' wrath and refused to represent him again.’

Julianna edged the car forward, listening intently, her eyes on the car in front, her ears directed to the passenger. Sophia's casual style of storytelling was effective. Whereas Luke was accustomed to commanding a courtroom, Sophia's job was to soften the magistrates before her clients reached the judge and jury.

‘He happens to be one of the guys who knows Mark's witness. Call him Reg. These two guys aren't friends, but they know each other. I offer to take John back as my client, because he likes me and I'm getting him lenient sentences, or so he thinks, and in return, he arranges a meeting between me, Luke, and Reg. Luke wouldn't let