‘Please don’t cry in here,’ says Heather. ‘It’s seen enough tears.’
‘I’m sorry,’ says Connie, trying to wipe the tears away. ‘It’s just you remind me so much of my mum. And we lost her last year.’
Heather looks at her, shakes her head the slightest amount and shrugs. ‘Don’t lie about that sort of thing, Connie.’
Connie stops crying immediately and sighs. ‘All right, we don’t have to be friends, but I’ve been given a job, and I want to do it. Just tell me, and we’re done. Bethany Waites was a journalist, she had worked out what you were doing, which was making millions sitting in a nice little office, doing bugger all. She was about to go public and suddenly someone pushes her car off a cliff. What does that look like to you?’
Heather gives the smallest of shrugs.
‘Come on,’ says Connie. ‘You killed her –’
‘No.’
‘Or you know who did?’
Connie notices that Heather does not say no to this question.
‘You know who killed Bethany? You’re covering for someone?’
‘Please,’ says Heather quietly. ‘It’s not safe.’
‘You’re safe with me, princess,’ says Connie. ‘Why would you cover for someone? They got something on you? I could kill them for you, you know?’
Heather is silent for a long moment. She then gets up, walks to the door of her cell and opens it. She shouts down the corridor to a warder. ‘Mr Edwards, there is someone in my cell. I’m being threatened.’
Connie hears footsteps climbing a metal staircase, and Heather walks slowly back into the cell and sits down again.
‘Sorry,’ Heather says. ‘I’m going to have to ask you to leave.’
The footsteps from outside reach the doorway and a prison warder appears. ‘OK, let’s get you back to … oh, Connie, it’s you.’
‘Hello, Jonathon. Just visiting my friend Heather.’
‘Right you are,’ says Jonathon. ‘I’ll shut the door and give you a bit of peace.’
The door shuts behind him, and Connie turns back to Heather. ‘Listen, it was worth a try. Just tell me, Heather. It looks like you did it. But you don’t seem like a killer. And there was no evidence. So what are we saying? Your boss did it? Jack Mason? I met him at a do once. Someone was trying to stab him in the car park.’
Heather is having a long think.
‘It’s just you and me, Heather,’ says Connie, putting a hand on Heather’s shoulder. ‘No one will ever know. Who are you covering for? Jack Mason? You scared of him?’
‘You said you’ve been given a job?’
Connie nods.
‘By whom?’
‘No one you need to worry about.’
‘Don’t tell me who I need to worry about,’ says Heather. Connie likes this. Heather is showing a bit of heart at last.
‘You’re right, fair point. Heather, listen, I’m a very difficult person.’
Heather nods.
‘And I will be back here every day for the rest of your sentence until you tell me. Who killed Bethany Waites?’
‘You’ll get the same answer every time.’
‘I can be patient. And next time I’ll bring you something. KitKat? Coke Zero? A gun?’
Heather gives her first, small smile. This is more like it, thinks Connie. Finally.