The Box by Dan Malakin

Author:Dan Malakin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Profile
Published: 2022-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

Jackie stared at the man hovering by the sofa after Gabrielle Truman went to make the drinks. The man stared back.

He didn’t fit the description exactly – the hair was different, and he wore glasses – but straight away Jackie knew two things. One, this was the man who’d threatened the women into the filing sexual harassment reports against Ed Truman. Two, he was serious trouble. A proper bad guy.

How did she know? Easy. Most normal people, when faced with the police, especially those investigating a murder, got flustered, over-polite, glancing round like they’d just fled a crime scene. What they did not do was make hard eye contact, unblinking, like a gunslinger waiting for someone to shout, Draw!

‘I’m sorry,’ Jackie said. ‘I didn’t catch your name.’

‘Benedict Silver,’ he replied. ‘I’m a business associate of Gabrielle’s husband.’

‘Bit late in the evening to be discussing business, isn’t it?’ Jackie said. ‘And difficult without Mr Truman here.’

‘I’m also her friend.’

Jackie made a point of taking in the wine glasses, the messy sofa. ‘I can see that.’

‘I didn’t realise you were the friend police.’

‘Good job, isn’t it? Otherwise you’d be under arrest.’

His eyes still hadn’t moved from hers. ‘What for?’

‘I’m sure we could find something.’

Keyes cleared her throat. The wife was back with the teas. Jackie took one off her, then sat in the armchair.

Gabrielle Truman perched on the end of the sofa, her hands clasped and face set like she was expecting the worst. Benedict Silver, if that was his name, stayed standing.

‘Please, sir,’ Jackie said, nodding for him to sit, ‘make yourself comfortable.’ He lowered himself down. Good boy.

She opened the case folder and stalled for time by flipping through it – no point in asking Gabrielle if she knew the man who’d forced Helen McAllister and her husband’s other accusers to go to the police when he was sitting right here. She grabbed the CCTV stills of Ed Truman and the girl.

‘These are images taken on Sunday morning,’ Jackie said, passing them to Gabrielle. ‘You probably saw them in the papers. Your husband and this young woman took the 2.38 a.m. bus from King’s Cross, arriving at Cockfosters at 3.22. Do you know where your husband might be going at that time? Any friends? Relatives?’ She glanced at Silver. ‘Business associates?’

‘No…’ she replied. ‘No one I can think of.’

‘And the girl? Do you recognise her?’

Truman shook her head, her mouth sour. ‘I’ve never seen her before.’

‘Could she be one of your daughter’s friends?’

‘Not one that I know.’

The wife handed the pictures back. Instead of putting them away, Jackie paused, then held them out to Silver. ‘How about you, sir? Would you care to take a look?’

He cocked his head at her, a bit cautious, a bit amused, a whole lot of something she couldn’t read. ‘Why would I need to look?’

‘You never know.’

‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Okay.’

He took the pictures. The muscles around his eyes tightened. ‘Sorry,’ he said, leaning forward to hand them back. ‘I don’t know her.’

When Jackie took hold of them, he kept his grip for an extra second.

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