Something Hidden (24 page)

Andrew took a sip of his tea, only then realising that Jenny was still talking. ‘. . . anyway, after that he went home by himself. I don’t know what his problem is. It’s not as
if we’re married. Why are people so clingy?’

‘I don’t know,’ Andrew replied, on autopilot.

‘Right, I mean, it’s not normal, is it?’

He returned to the emails he’d not had the time or inclination to read on his phone.

There was plenty to read between the lines: Braithwaite setting himself up as a local hero in an us-versus-them battle with the police. Given the choice, plenty would side with him because so
many people knew a person he employed.

Andrew realised Jenny had stopped speaking. He could feel her watching him from the side, turning to catch her smiling at him.

‘Okay?’ he asked.

‘That’s what I just asked you.’

‘Oh . . . right.’

‘I was wondering why Braithwaite might have turned on Sampson,’ Jenny said.

Andrew took a moment to think. ‘Any number of reasons. Perhaps Sampson arranged the robbery of his own shop with one of Braithwaite’s rivals and Braithwaite was annoyed at being left
out. Maybe Sampson went to Braithwaite, who got the Evans brothers to do it, but they then fell out over money?’ Andrew flicked back to the first article. ‘I’m not sure
that’s what really matters. It’s like this piece about him closing the factory – everything’s about business. If you’re useful to him, making enough money and not
causing trouble, then he’ll let things go. If you cause a problem, that’s the end of it. He heard the rumours about the killings of Owen and Wendy being linked to him because the Evans
brothers once worked for him and he didn’t like them. For whatever reason, he blamed Sampson, so now he’s cutting him loose.’

‘But if Braithwaite is the person we think he might be – and the police clearly think he is – why would he need us? He could make Sampson disappear, or whatever it is they
do.’

Andrew shrugged. He couldn’t admit the truth: he thought Braithwaite was after a new plaything and he’d accidentally provided it.

‘I don’t know,’ he said.

Jenny removed her glasses and leant back in her chair. ‘Let’s say it was Sampson and Braithwaite. Sampson knows Braithwaite because he’s Mr Brasso: he cleans up stolen
jewellery and they’ve worked together in the past. He only finds out the expensive necklace is coming in from the production company first thing in the morning, so there’s a window of
three or four hours where it’s going to be in the shop.’

‘Right.’

‘Whether he goes directly to Braithwaite doesn’t matter because everything has to happen quickly. Either way, it’s the Evans brothers who do the robbery. They’re
unreliable but perhaps they were all that was available because of the short notice. Braithwaite knew they’d stay quiet if they did get caught, so he wins in any case. They take the necklace,
Sampson gets his insurance money
and
cleans the necklace so it can be sold on, probably with the jewels separated from the metal. He makes his money, the Evans brothers get a cut, as does
Braithwaite, or whoever else it is he’s working with. The police might have had an inkling about the truth but they couldn’t prove anything and the Evans brothers were careless anyway.
The police could have spent hours and hours peeling back the layers but, in the end, they had proof and three people in custody.’

‘That explains the robbery,’ Andrew said, ‘but why the shooting? If Sampson was in on it all along, why not usher Owen and Wendy out when they entered the shop? He’s got
the CCTV camera, so the robbery would have been recorded. He didn’t need witnesses.’

‘Witnesses would be better, though – especially if the police were ever suspicious.’

Andrew nodded. ‘Of course, so why were they killed? The robbery
happened
– the footage was on the news. Everyone saw it. When the Evans brothers were in court, it was played
over and over. There were freeze frames in the papers. No one doubted it and the police would have found the brothers anyway. They weren’t caught because of the statements Owen and Wendy
gave, they were caught because they were stupid.’

Jenny was nodding. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen the video . . .’

Andrew wasn’t listening properly. What had he missed? There must be something and he was pretty sure Braithwaite either knew what it was, or knew Sampson had done something he
shouldn’t. He wanted Andrew to find it, which was why he’d put him onto the jeweller.

‘. . . I wonder if it’s on YouTube,’ Jenny added.

Her glasses were back on as she clicked the mouse. Andrew wanted to focus but kept drifting back to Iwan’s amusement and Kevin laughing in his face.

‘It’s on the GMP website,’ Jenny said. ‘They put it up for a public appeal and never took it down.’

There was the muffled sound of banging from Jenny’s computer speakers as she watched the footage, before setting it to repeat.

‘I had a good time with your aunt,’ she said.

‘So I heard.’

‘I think she needs a holiday.’

Andrew finished his tea and pinched the top of his nose. He didn’t feel well. ‘I’ve told you – she likes Manchester. She’s hardly ever left the city, let alone the
north west. She doesn’t have a passport.’

Jenny was uncharacteristically quiet, with the sounds of the CCTV footage continuing to play. Shouting, smash-smash, shouting, bang.

‘When I was at her flat on Saturday, I did have a thought,’ Jenny said.

Andrew wasn’t in the mood to listen but had even less inclination to argue. ‘Go on.’

‘You know all the trinkets she has?’

‘How can you miss them?’

‘I was walking around the room and she was telling me about the teapots and the snow globes. Then she was showing me her postcards, the sticks of rock, the magnets and everything else, and
it dawned on me.’

‘What did?’

‘Have you ever thought about what you
haven’t
seen?’

‘Oh, don’t give her ideas. She’ll be collecting dolls, T-shirts, and God knows what else. The thimbles are bad enough.’

The CCTV footage started another loop. Shouting, smash-smash, shouting, bang.

‘I don’t mean that, I mean the places.’

‘I think she wants something from South America,’ Andrew said. ‘She’s got something from the other continents. Someone from bingo went on safari last year and brought her
back a few bits from Kenya.’

Jenny’s voice was as level as it had been throughout, no showing off, no being a smart-arse. ‘You’re missing it – you’re seeing what’s there, rather than
what’s not.’

Andrew finally turned, infuriated. He couldn’t take another person talking down to him. ‘
What
?’ he asked, fully intending the aggressive tone.

Jenny didn’t look up from her screen. ‘You say she loves Manchester, but there’s nothing from the area. No teapots, no snow globes. Nothing with “Coronation Street”
on it, no football stuff, none of those stupid teddies you get on Deansgate. Not even that “On the sixth day, God created Manchester” sign they sell. If she loves the area so much, why
hasn’t she got a single thing from around here? She even had Yorkshire teabags.’

Andrew wanted to answer angrily that he knew Gem better than her but the words stuck in his throat. He’d been visiting his aunt for as long as he could recall and she’d always
collected tat – but he could never remember anything from the local area.

‘I suppose she only collects things that people bring home for her,’ he said.

‘What if that’s not it?’

‘How do you mean?’

‘What if she’s been waiting her entire life to go on holiday to Spain, Greece, Egypt, or anywhere else she’s got knick-knacks from?’

The footage started its loop again, with Jenny’s eyes fixed on the screen.

‘I’ve offered to take her away. She never wants to go anywhere.’

‘That’s what she always says. When you said you were going to take her to your flat, she argued for about five seconds and then caved. That’s what she’s like – she
doesn’t want to feel like a burden, so she
wants
you to give her no option. Instead of offering to take her away and letting her say no, she wants you to
tell
her you’re
taking her on holiday and she doesn’t have a choice.’

There was a pause, the only noise coming from the speakers of Jenny’s computer.

Oh, shit.

Jenny was right. All this time, all these years. Of course she wanted to go and see some of the places her friends had visited, that’s why she covered her living room with it all. How had
he missed what was right in front of him?

Andrew stood, crossing the room to stand behind Jenny as the footage began again. Wendy and Owen were on screen, peering into a cabinet when there was a squeal and three balaclava-clad figures
burst through the shop door.

‘How did you know?’ Andrew asked.

Jenny shrugged. ‘It’s obvious, isn’t it?’

Wendy hit the floor but Owen remained standing, as if his legs weren’t obeying what he wanted them to do. His knees crumpled slightly but he looked up to see one of the brothers pointing a
sawn-off shotgun at his face. There was a stream of shouting and then the man thrashed Owen in the head with the butt of the gun.

‘Where do you think I should take her?’ Andrew asked.

‘Say you’re planning a holiday and you were wondering if she’s heard of anywhere that’s good. She’ll come up with something and you can book it for the both of you.
Either that, or I’ll ask her.’

Owen slumped to the floor as one of the other robbers pointed a gun at Leyton Sampson, who was behind the counter. There was more shouting and then a crash as the cabinet on the far side of the
shop was shattered.

‘Why did you go around to my flat when you knew it was just her and Rory?’ Andrew asked.

‘I thought I could help. She seemed lonely.’

‘Don’t take this the wrong way, but . . . you don’t really go out of your way to help people.’

‘I know.’

‘So, what’s different?’

‘I don’t know,’ Jenny replied. ‘I like her.’

Owen was on the floor but looking up as Wendy reached for him. He glanced from Sampson to the robbers and back again. Sampson largely ignored him, turning to the bench and back to the robbers.
At the front of the shop, the man without the gun – Paulie Evans – shouted at his brothers, just as another cabinet was smashed.

‘Jen.’

‘What?’

‘Thank you.’

‘Pfft. It’s fine.’

The trio grabbed what they could, dumping everything into bags before rushing into the street. The entire thing had taken barely ninety seconds.

The screen faded to black, before displaying Greater Manchester Police’s logo and a phone number to call.

‘Again?’ Jenny asked.

Andrew was chewing on the inside of his mouth, plucking a stringy piece of skin from his inner cheek. ‘Yes.’

They watched in silence as the events played themselves out.

The footage repeated three more times before Andrew felt confident enough to point a finger at the screen, telling Jenny to watch.

‘What am I looking for?’ she asked.

‘It’s as you said. Have you ever thought about what you
haven’t
seen?’

Jenny gasped when she spotted it, as strong a reaction as Andrew had ever seen from her. He didn’t know if she was shocked it had happened, or stunned that she’d
missed it.

‘It’s down to you,’ Andrew said.

‘You saw it.’

‘Only because you kept going on about Gem. You put the idea in my head to ignore what was in front of me and look for what wasn’t.’

She rested her head on his hip. ‘We make a good team.’

Andrew was standing, with Jenny sitting, meaning her head was at an awkward height. Andrew didn’t know where to put his hands. Should he ask her to move? Or step away and let her head
drop? They’d had a brief hug after being rescued from Alkrington Woods a few months previously but that was at a time when Andrew thought they were going to die. This was . . . weird.

He was saved by the mobile phone on his desk starting to ring. Jenny lifted her head away as Andrew scuttled across the office, trying to forget what had just happened. The number was
‘unknown’, which meant it was almost certainly a telemarketer. He would usually ignore those calls, it wasn’t as if the person ever left a message, but whoever it was had just
saved him. He wondered what it would be, probably someone wondering if he’d been mis-sold a banking product. That was all the rage nowadays.