‘Harris doesn’t want to see you. He doesn’t want to stay in your shitty flat. He said the other day, “Don’t make me go to Daddy’s”。’
There was a time when Leo might have believed Allie; when her words would have corresponded so perfectly with his own thoughts, he would have slunk away like a wounded animal. Leo opens the door. ‘Goodbye, Allie.’
‘I’m not finished!’
‘I am.’
The briefing room carries the hum of anticipation which accompanies the prospect of good news. Crouch stands by the smartboard, chest puffed with proxy pride. ‘You will no doubt have seen the headlines this morning.’ An array of newspapers is spread across the desks, their headlines variations on the same theme: Rhys Lloyd murdered by his own mother.
Under caution, Glynis Lloyd gave a full and frank confession to her son’s murder. ‘I just lashed out,’ she said, between tears. ‘I didn’t think I’d hit him that hard, but he went down like he’d run into a wall.’
Leo and Ffion spent an hour on the phone to the Crown Prosecution Service, outlining the case against Glynis. Izzy Weaver remained adamant that the injuries Lloyd sustained from the trophy could not have killed him, but it was clear from Lloyd’s demeanour at the party – and the data from his watch – that his health had been compromised at the time of the assault.
‘The straw that broke the camel’s back,’ Izzy said. ‘Or, in this case, your chap’s face.’
The case against Clemence Northcote was more straightforward. She hadn’t been present at time of the assault, and there was no suggestion that she and Glynis Lloyd had conspired to bring about Rhys’s death – the two women had barely spoken before the night in question. Clemmie would be prosecuted for assisting an offender and concealing a crime, as well as the unlawful disposal of a dead body.
‘You will make it clear?’ Glynis said, in her interview. ‘That she had no choice but to help me?’
‘I was scared,’ Clemmie confirmed.
‘Of Glynis Lloyd?’ Leo was sceptical.
‘She said she’d tell the police it was me. I knew you’d find out about the money I owed Rhys – I knew it would look bad for me.’
There was, Leo thought, something not quite right about this case.
‘You think too much,’ Ffion said, when both women had been charged. ‘They’ve both coughed to it.’
‘And they’re obviously both guilty; it’s just . . .’ Leo shakes his head. ‘I don’t know. I’m not sure we’ll ever know exactly what happened that night.’
Maybe it doesn’t matter, he thinks now, as everyone’s sitting around the briefing table, Crouch in self-congratulation mode.
‘Our department has been in the nation’s spotlight,’ he finishes, after what seems like an hour. ‘We have not let the public down!’
If he’s hoping for applause, he’s disappointed. With the exception of a handful of keen-and-green officers borrowed from shift, the detectives in the room are far too jaded and cynical to be roused by a Churchillian speech. Nevertheless, there is an audible buzz of satisfaction.
‘A fine day indeed,’ Crouch goes on, ‘for Cheshire Constabulary.’
‘And North Wales Police,’ Ffion says. ‘Sir.’
‘Ah. Yes, of course. And North Wales.’ Crouch turns to the pair of them. ‘Perhaps you’d like to fill everyone in on the loose ends?’
‘We’re anticipating guilty pleas from both,’ Ffion says. ‘But obviously we’ll ensure everything’s in place, should that change. Meanwhile, the Met are charging Yasmin Lloyd with wasting police time, and Jonty Charlton’s under investigation for drugging his kids with sleeping pills he got from Rhys Lloyd.’
No wonder Yasmin had been nervous when she was presented with the list of medication seized from the Lloyds’ bedroom: it included the sleeping tablets Rhys had used for years – the same ones he’d used to drug their own daughter when she was a toddler.
Crouch runs through the tasks for the day – the tedious but necessary post-charge investigative work – then raises a hand to summon the team’s attention for a final time.
‘Some of you may not be aware that, in the course of the murder investigation, DC Brady and DC Morgan responded to an emergency situation on Mirror Lake.’
Beside him, Leo feels Ffion tense. Leo had glossed over their exploits when briefing the DI, telling him only that a local girl had got into difficulties. Ffion’s story is her own to tell. Hers and Seren’s.