Cambridge Blue - Alison Bruce [103]
‘I’m sorry, sir, I’ll only be a minute,’ Goodhew said, and ran towards the cordon before Marks could order him to stop.
A couple of heads turned as he passed and he thought he heard Marks shout his name, but he was only interested in catching up with the man he’d just spotted. He made it past the barricade, and on to the market square beyond just in time to see Bryn O’Brien vanish behind the striped canvas awning of the organic fruit and veg stand.
Goodhew kept running along between the rows of stalls as Bryn headed along a parallel path of the adjoining street, along the perimeter of the market. He didn’t try to hurry, and never looked back, but when Goodhew emerged suddenly from a gap to his right, O’Brien didn’t seem surprised either.
He stopped squarely in front of Goodhew. Bryn’s smart clothes were gone now, and the scuffed boots were back, but this time teamed with jeans instead of overalls. That gave him two deep front pockets, ideal for stuffing his hands into, which was what he immediately did. ‘What do you want?’ he demanded.
Goodhew turned and began to walk away, only speaking when Bryn caught up with him. ‘You came to find me,’ he pointed out. ‘So what do you want?’
‘I wanted to know who’s dead.’
Goodhew kept walking, looking straight ahead, forcing Bryn to make all the effort. ‘Don’t you already know?’ he asked coolly.
‘Why would I?’ And what sounded like indignation in Bryn’s voice could have been panic.
Goodhew slowed his pace slightly. ‘What are you afraid of, Bryn?’
‘The only person you knew connected to Lorna was Victoria Nugent. So—’ Goodhew halted abruptly and spun round to face Bryn. ‘Are you afraid that she’s the victim or afraid of having the police on your back?’
‘It is Victoria then?’
‘That’s right.’ Breaking news of a death should have prompted more sympathy, but Goodhew felt strangely detached. ‘But why were you looking for me?’
‘I told you.’
‘No, why me? Why not call the station, or ask the PC at the cordon or, come to that, wait for the Cambridge News like the rest of the general public?
Bryn scowled. ‘I just thought you’d tell me.’
‘So you thought I’d treat you differently?’
‘Gary, what’s your problem?’ Bryn held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. ‘I’m sorry you’ve got a bit of an issue here. The bottom line is, you did tell me, so you did treat me differently.’
This time it was Bryn who started walking away. Goodhew watched him tramp towards the corner before catching up. He launched straight in. ‘Including Colin Willis, we now have three deaths and, as far as I can tell, you are the only person who knew all of them, so you’re right in the middle of this.’
‘I’m not in the middle,’ Bryn argued. ‘I just look like I am.’
‘OK, so when did you last see Victoria Nugent?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Don’t know? Not last night then?’
Bryn shook his head.
Goodhew persisted. ‘Did you see her last night?’
‘No.’ It sounded as though Bryn was testing out the word at first, and he must have thought that it sounded all right, because he immediately repeated it again with more confidence. ‘I didn’t see her,’ he added for good measure.
Anger surged through Goodhew. All at once, it punched him squarely in the gut. He grabbed at Bryn’s shoulder, spinning him around into a shop entrance. ‘Do I have gullible stamped on my forehead or something?’ he growled.
Bryn paled. ‘What are you on about?’
‘You’re a liar.’
‘I didn’t see her.’
‘I know, for a fact, you were the last person to be with her.’ There was no way they were about to debate this and he rammed it home with a prod of his finger. ‘I know you were with her at Lorna’s flat, too. Do you really think that we wouldn’t have the place under surveillance?’
Bryn groaned. ‘Who else knows?’
‘Let’s just say that depends on how soon the swab results come back from the forensics lab.’
Bryn took a couple of seconds to digest this comment, acknowledging its impact by groaning again. Goodhew reached forward and hauled him out of the doorway. Bryn half walked and was half dragged around the corner into Petty Cury’s pedestrianized