Towers of Silence

Chapter Thirty Eight

The Health Food Shop in Withington were selling pricey organic Christmas pudding, vegan mince-pies and carob tree decorations. I could just imagine Maddie’s horror if she opened one of them and found it wasn’t authentic Cadbury’s chocolate. I steered clear of all that and bought a spring roll and a flapjack for my lunch and some mixed nuts, black mustard and sesame seeds, oatmeal and herbal tea for home. I imagined Nana Tello’s reaction: birdfood. I dropped my purchases twice and queried the change before I clocked that I wasn’t functioning properly.

I was shocked that Eddie Cliff was lying to me. And apprehensive about what the lie might conceal. He was so convincing though. There’d been nothing obvious in his body language or the tone of his voice to betray him. He was a good liar. Skilled. If he’d lied about Miriam, what else had he lied about?

Inamong my distaste and anxiety I was completely keyed up, adrenalin buzzing along my spine, mind racing about. The weather was changing, a storm was forecast and I could feel the pressure in the air. The sky had darkened to a moody blue and the first tugs of wind were starting. I hurried back and devoured my lunch, chose strong coffee over herbal tea and had a most uncharacteristic (after so many years) craving for a cigarette. Then I got on the phone.

Eddie had worked in Hull, Sharon had said, at a similar project called Horizons. I started with the local authority. Like all councils it seemed to have only one phone line which was either engaged or unattended. On my sixth try I got through and was transferred to social services. I told the man at the other end I wanted the number for Horizons, a drop-in centre I’d heard of where they did arts activities.

“Not a day-centre?” he asked.

“Don’t think so, open to anyone.”

“Just a minute.” I could hear him relaying my query to his colleagues. One of whom knew exactly where I meant.

He came back on the line. “Horizons,” he said. He gave me the address and phone number.

Bingo.

I flexed my shoulders and stretched my arms.

When I got through to Horizons I asked for the manager.

“Who shall I say is calling?”

I told her.

A pause, then, “Bryony Walker speaking.”

“Hello, my name’s Sal Kilkenny. I’m ringing in connection with a Mr Eddie Cliff who used to work there.”

“Sorry?”

“Eddie Cliff.”

“No. No one of that name.”

“It would be about three years ago, more or less.”

“No,” she said directly. “I’ve been here since we started and there’s never been a Eddie Cliff.”

Another lie. He’d made up the job?

“He had a reference from you,” I said.

“There’s obviously been a mistake. We’re a small place; if there had been anyone called that I’d remember the name.”

So he’d written his own reference. I’d heard it was common for applicants to embellish their CVs but a non-existent position and false references was pushing it. And could get him the sack.

“Sorry to bother you, then, thanks.” I was about to ring off when I heard myself talking again. “This man, he’s got a beard, long hair, dresses like a cowboy.”

Silence.

“Hello?”

“Oh, God,” she said. “Who are you again?”

“Sal Kilkenny. I’m a private investigator.”

“Oh, God.”

“You recognise the description?”

“Yes.”

Another pause. “We had someone like that here. Clive Edmonds he was called.” She sounded breathless.

Yes!

She cleared her throat. “Listen, I just need a few minutes. Erm… can I ring you back?”

“Yes.” I gave her my number and paced the room waiting for the phone. When it rang I pounced.

“Sal Kilkenny speaking.”

“Bryony Walker. Listen do you have any proof of your identity? Something you could fax me?” It was a reasonable request. I could have been anybody. I was dying to know what lay behind her stunned reaction.

“Driving licence?”

“Fine, yes.”

“And is there anyone who can vouch for you?” she asked. “Someone who knows you professionally?”

I thought. “There are a firm of solicitors I work for.”

“Good.”

I gave her Rebecca Henderson’s number. She was certainly being very cautious.

“I’ll give these people a call. Meanwhile if you can send me the copy of your driving licence.”

“Yep.”

“If that’s all okay I need to make absolutely sure that we’re talking about the same man before I say anything else. I’ll fax you a photograph and can you confirm it is the right person?”

“Yes, of course.”

We exchanged fax numbers and I set my machine to receive a fax. I was practically dancing with anticipation.

Eddie Cliff had changed his name. Got a job under false pretences and more important to me he’d lied about Miriam Johnstone. The woman at Horizons knew the man and what she knew was certainly not good.

I was wired with curiosity. What had he done? What could she tell me? And as I waited for the fax to arrive the fingers of dread stroked at my neck.