‘How did you end up behind bars?’
Her eyes flash, her hand going into her pocket. ‘That bitch Lauren took something that belongs to me. Something precious.’
Whatever it is I suspect it’s in Miriam’s pocket. And it looks like she’s hanging on to it for dear life and won’t show it to me. I imagine her stroking it with the same love I give the Good Knight.
Lauren? I remember. ‘She was in one of your photos in your living room. One of two girlfriends who lasted longer than six months.’
The barman tops up Miriam’s glass. ‘She took it. What she took is so important to me. It reminds me of so many things, including my grandmother.’ She mentioned her grandmother dying the first time we met.
‘Grandmother was always busy, always on the go, helping this person, that person,’ Miriam continues in a voice suffused with sadness. ‘But she always had time for me. She had this blue teapot that she’d fill with homemade orange juice, and we’d sit in her garden drinking juice from tiny teacups.’ Miriam has the rosy-cheeked glow of a delighted child.
Then her lips twist, shoving off the beautiful memories of the past. Her temper’s back. ‘I couldn’t find my keepsake yesterday. I hunted all over the flat. I was going out of my mind. Then I knew Lauren had taken it out of pure spite.’ She shrugs a shoulder. ‘The reason we broke up and I asked her to pack her crap and leave was when I found out she was having her cake with me and eating more of it with a girl who works on a beauty counter. That two-timing floozy took my precious thing because she knew how much it meant to me. I don’t have much left in my life, but it’s mine and only mine.’
Miriam sniffs back the tears, followed by a gulp of her drink. ‘I went around to where she’s shacked up with the beauty queen. There was a bit of pushing and shoving, maybe a few things got broken.’ She hits her drink again. ‘She had it, all right, and gave it back to me. The noise level probably hit max and the next thing I know the law are dragging me into the street.’
‘At least you won’t go to court.’
I’m trying to be sympathetic, but the thunderous expression she suddenly wears tells me I’ve crossed a line.
She hisses, ‘Oh yes, my dad steps in as usual, taking care of business. That’s his speciality, taking care of business.’ Her gaze is brittle and anxious. ‘There’s always something in it for him. He never does anything without an ulterior motive. He’s probably worried I’ll be in the papers and then he’ll look like a bad father. It’s all appearances with him.’
She swallows the dregs of her drink. Actually, uses her tongue to lick the sides clean. ‘When Mummy left, he went to court to make sure he got custody. He didn’t actually want me. It was just a case of him proving he had more power and money. That was the mistake Mum made. If she’d have said he could have me, he’d have put me in a box and mailed me, second-class post, back to her. At least I always had money and when he was away on his many business trips I had parties at his place. It got trashed a few times.’ A wicked smile comes across her haggard face. ‘That was a laugh.’
I’m struggling to reconcile this image of Miriam with the one who was a fierce protector of her dad during our first meeting. I don’t hold back in stating, ‘I don’t understand. When we first met you were almost accusing me of being a con artist out to shake down Danny for his money.’
Miriam doesn’t speak for a time. Then she says, ‘Sometimes I want to drive Dad away, other times protect him with every ounce of fight in me.’ She stares into the middle distance. ‘I suppose you think I’m one of those kids who blames their parents for everything?’
I put my arm around her. ‘No, I don’t think that.’
Miriam gulps back the tears, mumbling, ‘There’s always something in it for him.’
CHAPTER 24
‘I told you I’d find it,’ Danny announces, all smiles and teeth, his fine fingers gripping the steering wheel of his sports car.
Excitement does feel-good backflips in my tummy the closer we get to the Suzi Lake Centre. I take out my phone and scroll to the photo of the building from The Walsh Briefing. It’s Edwardian, detached, a house with a certain stuffy grandiosity about it. And respectability; it oozes the stuff. So how can it be involved in the disappearance of four women? Three, if Ronnie admits she’s the one that got away.
I’ll say this for Danny, he certainly delivers. He’s looking very pleased with himself, and I’m pleased with him too.