Cold Case on the Moor: A gripping Yorkshire murder mystery (The Yorkshire detective mystery series Book 5) by Ric Brady

Author:Ric Brady [Brady, Ric]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: THE BOOK FOLKS bestselling crime fiction
Published: 2024-03-10T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty

Siobhan dug the tips of her slender fingers into the top of the cat’s head. Her eyes flitted between the cat and the grey living-room carpet. Tim had returned to the room offering more coffee, which interrupted the conversation. But he had quickly got the message he wasn’t welcome and left.

Siobhan opened up more about the sports she’d played as a child. The netball, the badminton, and the tennis. She explained how her mother had taken her to a kids’ group at Heaton Tennis Club. Maureen had clearly liked the fact she could take her kids and drop them off at the club while she practiced with adults. And it was kids, plural, as Paul had gone with them.

“Was Paul any good?” Henry asked Siobhan.

“He hated it. He’d sneak off and walk around the building.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what he did.”

Henry thought he already knew the answer to the next question but asked to get confirmation. “When did you stop going to Heaton Tennis Club?”

She looked up from the carpet. “When do you think?”

“You tell me.”

She exhaled. “You need me to say it, don’t you? It was after Mum died.” The cat gave a short meow, and Siobhan rubbed its head.

“And you stopped playing then?”

“Apart from school, yes.”

“When you went to the club, did you ever see your mother with anyone else?”

She shrugged. “She had a trainer, I think. Some guy. But she normally dropped us off in the kids’ area. There were about… fifteen of us there?” she said, not sounding sure.

“You said you saw her with a man. Can you remember who?”

She shook her head. “The guy who trained her? I can’t remember his name.”

“Did your mother train alone?”

“There was another woman sometimes. Blonde hair, I think.”

“What was she called?”

She shook her head. “I don’t remember.”

“What did she look like?”

Siobhan scrunched up her face as she tried to recall, but gave up, exhaling, like it was a job too much for her. “I can’t remember. I was only seven or eight. It was just some woman. Blonde hair. I don’t think I ever met her.”

Blonde hair? Henry remembered Shelley Peters’ short blonde hair. “Did this woman work with your mother?”

She shrugged. “I have no idea.”

“Did you ever go into your mother’s work or meet anyone from it?”

She shook her head again, looking frustrated that she couldn’t answer his questions.

“Alright,” Henry said, sensing he’d hit the bottom of the well. “Well, that’s it for now. You’ve been a great help.”

“Really?” she asked, sounding doubtful. “I hardly know anything.”

“No. You’ve done a good job. Now, can you fetch your brother?”

She huffed. “I’d rather not. You know he won’t talk to you.”

Henry shrugged. “I’ll let him try to tell me that. But I don’t fancy his chances.”

Siobhan seemed reluctant to get out of the armchair, but after collecting some effort, she pulled herself up. The cat scurried off through the door.

“Will you let me know if I can help any more?” she asked, standing in the centre of the room.

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