The Dead Tracks

Chapter Forty-nine

There was a coffee shop just off the East India Dock Road. Healy found a space a couple of streets away, the Dome — framed by grey skies and drizzle — across the water from us. We were about to go inside when, a little way up the road, I saw someone I recognized: Aron Crane. There was no Jill with him this time, and he was dressed in a suit.

I told Healy I'd see him inside. Aron looked deep in thought, his eyes fixed further out to where the skyscrapers of Canary Wharf needled the low-hanging cloud. Twenty feet short of the coffee shop, he spotted me.

He broke out into a smile, stopping. 'David.'

'How you doing, Aron?'

'I'm good.' We shook hands. 'What are you doing in this part of the world?'

'Just having coffee with a friend.' I nodded inside. Healy was leaning against the counter looking out, his eyes flicking between us. 'Well, more of an acquaintance, to be honest.'

Aron glanced at Healy. 'He looks angry.'

'He's smiling on the inside,' I said. Aron laughed. 'So, do you work close by?'

'Yeah. Well, kind of. For the next fortnight, anyway. I'm doing some consultation work for Citigroup and HSBC. It's probably why I've got this thousand-yard stare.'

'I remember you saying you worked in banking.'

'Don't hold it against me.'

I smiled. In the brief silence that followed, we both realized what was sitting between us. 'How's Jill?' I asked finally.

'She's good.' A pause. 'She said you called yesterday.'

There didn't seem to be any animosity in what he said, but as he looked at me, I could see what he was telling me: You upset her. 'I didn't mean to offend her.'

He nodded. 'I know.'

'It's just…' I stopped myself. It was a natural guard against giving out anything more than I had to on a case that was still active. But she would have already told him everything. They're close. He knows what I said to her. 'There were just some unexpected links between what happened to Frank and what I'm looking into at the moment. It seemed too convenient. I needed to ask Jill what she knew, if anything.'

He nodded again and ran a hand through his hair, as if he wasn't sure what to do with himself. 'You don't have to explain.'

'Are you seeing her tonight?'

'No.' He looked at his watch. 'I'm heading over to Canary Wharf to pick up my stuff and flying out to Paris at four for a meeting. It's a pain, and I feel really bad about it. It's obviously the support group tomorrow night, and I promised Jill I'd go, but I'm not going to be back until Wednesday.'

I'd forgotten all about it.

'Are you going?'

'I'd like to,' I said. I'd like a chance to talk to Jill, look her in the eyes and find out what she knows. 'But I think I might have to see how things pan out. I was going to ask you to apologize again for me if you were going.'

'I'm not, but I'll phone her later and tell her.'

I nodded my thanks.

'Okay, well, I better be going,' he said.

We shook hands again, and as he headed off down the street, I got the feeling that he was trying his best to remain neutral but finding it hard. I regretted offending Jill, but I didn't regret asking her the question.

Because something, somewhere, wasn't right.