House of Correction by Nicci French

Author:Nicci French [French, Nicci]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster UK
Published: 2020-08-31T16:00:00+00:00

FORTY-ONE

The bus driver, Sam McBride, looked more like he belonged in prison than many of the actual prisoners did. He was thin, with an unhealthy pallor that made Tabitha think of days spent indoors, and sandy hair that he wore in a ponytail. He was wearing a combat jacket, and when he took it off and hung it over the back of the chair, Tabitha saw that both his arms were thickly tattooed. He reminded her of a fox, quick and watchful, his brown eyes flickering around the room.

‘Thanks for coming,’ she said.

‘Yeah, well,’ he said, his voice surprisingly low. ‘I don’t know what use I am.’

‘It was just on the off-chance. I looked at the CCTV of that day and you were in the shop at the same time as me in the morning. You came in to buy cigarettes and I was in front of you.’

‘In your pyjamas.’ A little smile chased across his face.

‘Right. And I just wondered if you remembered anything.’

‘Like what?’

‘Like, did I say anything?’

‘Can’t you remember?’

‘The man who was standing in front of me claims I said something offensive about Stuart.’

‘That’s not good.’

‘Did you hear me, though?’

His eyes rested on her face briefly. ‘It doesn’t ring a bell.’

Tabitha paused.

‘Do you remember me not saying anything or do you just not remember anything?’

He looked puzzled. ‘I don’t know. If you’d shouted or been angry, I guess I’d have remembered that.’

Tabitha let out a sigh.

‘That’s good, I suppose. Did you hear Rob Coombe – that’s the guy – say anything? He looked angry on the CCTV. I want to know what he was angry about.’ She took a breath. ‘Specifically, I want to know if he was angry about Stuart.’

‘I see,’ said the driver slowly. ‘That’s what you want.’

‘I want the truth.’

‘Right. You want that to be the truth.’

Tabitha smiled, though she felt discouraged. ‘Sure,’ she said. ‘There’s a great wall of evidence stacked against me and I want to pull out a few of the bricks. Or loosen them.’

‘I wish I could help you more,’ he said and he seemed to mean it. ‘But I go in there most days to buy fags or a can of Coke or whatever, and I don’t really pay attention to what’s going on. Now you mention it, it rings a bell – but that may only be because you’re mentioning it, if you get me.’

‘If I asked you to be a witness, would you?’

He gave a tiny, crooked smile. ‘You must be desperate.’

‘Pretty much.’

He stared at her for a few seconds, considering. ‘If it’ll help.’

‘And if anything else does occur to you, like remembering the farmer yelling about Stuart, you’ll tell me.’

‘Sure.’

‘Do you drive the school bus every day?’

‘Yeah. I spend from half seven in the morning till about five in the afternoon, five days a week, driving it; except after the school run, it’s the old people going to community centres and stuff like that.’

‘So you know the area well?’

‘I wouldn’t say that exactly. I only came

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