Crying Out Loud Read Free Page B

really altered for them.
    I wondered now whether the sudden appearance of an infant in our lives stirred up painful memories for Ray. His wife had died giving birth to Tom. Ray must have been crazed with grief in those early days – bereavement on top of the huge upheaval and the demands that a new baby brings. His mum helped out; she adored her grandson, but even so.
    â€˜It must have been hard,’ I ventured, ‘for you and Tom.’
    â€˜Yeah.’ He rose and whistled for Digger. He’d always been crap at talking about emotions.
    Ray took the dog out and I cooked tea. When I went to call the children they were balancing the remote control on Jamie’s tummy and counting how long until her kicks and wriggles bounced it off. Jamie was laughing; all gums and sparkling eyes as Tom pulled faces.
    There was one more hurdle to sort out before the end of the day. I waited until we had finished our pasties and apple and raisin fool. Then I took a deep breath and broached it with Ray. ‘Could you work from home, tomorrow? Well, tomorrow morning.’
    â€˜You want me to look after the baby?’ Quick as a flash.
    â€˜If she’s still here. Just tomorrow. It’s work. A meeting. I can’t change things at such short notice. I would if I could. And I can’t take her with me.’
    â€˜I didn’t bring stuff home,’ he objected. ‘If you’d said on the phone  . . .’
    I had to persuade him to do this. I couldn’t rearrange. ‘Well, can’t work email it to you?’ I argued.
    He sighed. ‘Maybe. Can’t you get them to come and meet you here?’ he said.
    â€˜Hardly. I’m going to see man called Damien Beswick. He’s in Strangeways, serving a life sentence for murder.’
    He couldn’t trump that.

THREE
    A week before the abandoned baby materialized on my doorstep I’d started work on my new case. My client was a woman called Libby Hill. She hadn’t gone into any detail over the phone but said it was an enquiry connected to the murder of Charlie Carter.
    Damien Beswick, a twenty-one-year-old petty criminal, had confessed to the murder of Charlie Carter last year. Middle-aged Carter, who ran a loft conversion company, was stabbed to death at his weekend cottage, in the hamlet of Thornsby, on 8 November. Charlie’s girlfriend, Libby Hill, discovered the body. The fact that Carter was married and still living with his wife Heather and their son added a salacious quality to some of the news coverage. There was speculation about a love triangle and questions as to whether the murder was a crime of passion. Interest surged when the police spent most of two days talking to Libby Hill, but two weeks later an arrest was made. Damien Beswick had been caught trying to use Carter’s missing bank cards at an ATM in Stockport. The next police announcement revealed that Beswick had made a full confession. Carter had surprised him in the middle of a burglary. Beswick, high on drugs at the time, panicked when the older man ran at him. Beswick grabbed a knife from the counter and in the scuffle that followed Carter suffered a stab wound to the stomach. Arraigned at Manchester Crown Court, Beswick pleaded guilty and asked for a number of other offences – burglary and street robbery – to be taken into account. It was standard practice to do that; a way of clearing the slate so the defendant couldn’t be rearrested for those crimes on his release. Subsequently he was sentenced to life and would serve a minimum of twenty-five years.
    His guilty plea meant there was no trial by jury and the case soon fell from public view. It was done and dusted. Justice had been served and a violent career criminal was safely behind bars.
    Libby Hill’s approach was intriguing. Did she want to claim compensation for the trauma of losing her lover? Or did she want to make some claim on his estate, which presumably had gone to