A Game of Lies by Clare Mackintosh

Author:Clare Mackintosh [Mackintosh, Clare]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-07-19T18:30:00+00:00

TWENTY-THREE

SUNDAY | FFION

By the time Ffion has sent Huw on his way, and circled back to the entrance of Carreg Plas, there’s a crime scene vehicle parked by the gate, next to Jim’s dog van. A volley of barks coming from the courtyard suggests Foster has already been put to work, and Ffion’s relieved not to have the complicating factor of Dave, who would no doubt want to play.

At six o’clock this morning, Ffion had coaxed a reluctant Dave around the side of Mam’s house and posted him through the back door. ‘Shh!’ she said, as he began whining. ‘You’ll wake—’

‘Ffion Morgan!’ Mam had appeared in the kitchen in her dressing gown. ‘You’re lucky I haven’t got a shotgun.’

‘I used my key, Mam. Burglars don’t use—’

Mam eyed Dave with distaste. ‘It’s not the burglars I want it for.’

‘Please, Mam. This missing person case is dragging on and I haven’t a minute to sort out a permanent solution. Just today. Please. Caru ti … Love you.’ Ffion scarpered, half expecting to be rugby tackled on the path by Dave on an early escape bid.

Much as it pains her to admit it, Huw’s right about Dave. Ffion needs to call the shelter and ask them to take him back. She’s used every dog walker in the area, and all have refused to have Dave again. Such is his reputation, a walker in a village ten miles away refused without meeting him. As soon as this job is squared away, Ffion will go on bended knee to the shelter and admit defeat.

There’s no sign of Jim and Foster when Ffion reaches the courtyard. A CSI tent has been erected in front of Miles’s studio at the entrance to the crime scene and a uniformed officer stands guard. It’s started to drizzle. Glistening droplets cling to the fabric of the tent, and the officer turns up his collar.

Ffion hears a series of excitable barks. Seconds later, Foster emerges from behind the block of stable rooms, Jim feeding out the long lead. The dog’s picked up a scent. They head off up the mountain trail and Ffion watches until they disappear into the trees. They’re heading straight for the Exposure camp.

‘FME’s pronounced life extinct, and CSI have filmed the body in situ,’ Leo says. ‘DCI Boccacci’s authorised a transferral to the morgue.’

They wait in the tent as Miles is moved from chair to bag. It’s a laborious process, filmed every step of the way by a Crime Scene Investigator. Miles’s hands have been wrapped in bags to preserve evidence that might be trapped beneath his fingernails, and on a large sheet of paper next to the body bag the CSI has laid out the contents of Miles’s pockets: a wallet, a watch and an iPhone. Ffion bags each one separately and begins filling out exhibit tags.

‘He has to have known his attacker,’ Leo says. ‘There’s no sign of a struggle, so Miles must have opened the door then sat down to carry on editing. He

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