Page 58 of Dissection of a Murder
Davina and I look at each other, confused. This isn’t what I expected to see at all. I lean closer to the monitor to get a better look. The angle of the camera is such that I can’t see the young man’s face. The quality isn’t great.
“Who is it?” Davina asks.
“It’s Quinn,” Keany says, from behind us. We turn around to look at him.
“What?”
“Quinn Smythe? He worked here for a while,” he says casually.
“Quinn Smythe worked here?”
“Yeah.”
“Does he still work here?”
“Nah, he left to go to uni in September. I remember it because Quinn’s last shift was the night his dad died. He’d been bangin’ on for weeks about movin’ to Cambridge and all thefreshersparties he’d be at. Ithinkit was Cambridge. Might have been the other one. I dunno. One of the posh ones with the boats. Only worked ’ere over the summer. You know, had a rich family but had to get a ‘job’ to prove to Mummy he was independent. Bad what happened to his dad, though.”
“Yes,” I say, not taking my eyes off him. “What was he like when he worked here?”
“Typical posh lad. Confident, cocky. He was always crackin’ on with the lasses. That’s the only reason he liked workin’ ’ere, to be honest. Went very weird before he left, though.”
“What do you mean?”
“It must have been about a week before he left. He went…quiet. You know, jumpy.”
“Jumpy? In what way?”
“He looked like shit, for a start. Like he hadn’t been sleepin’. It was after a fella came in wanting to speak to him and he absolutely freaked out after. Started having a panic attack or something.”
“Did they have a fight?”
“Nah, nowt like that.” Keany laughs. “This fella walked in and had a quiet word with Quinn and he just lost it. This bloke was being dead calm but Quinn went proper weird after. He was nearly cryin,’ sayin’ he needed to take his break early. He wasn’t the same after that.”
“Was this the man he was talking to on that occasion?” Davina asks, pointing to Anton on the screen.
“No. Not him! Much younger. Longish, dark hair, tattoos, ripped.”
Davina and I glance at each other. As soon as we hear the description of this “mystery man,” it’s clear we’re both thinking the same thing. Davina gets her phone out and taps away before holding it up in front of Keany’s face.
“Is this the man you’re talking about?” she asks. It’s the mug shot from the night Jack was arrested.
Keany takes one look at the screen, before giving his answer immediately.
“Yeah, that’s him. Good-lookin’ fella.”
“Do you know what they were talking about?” I ask him. “Please, this is really important.”
“Sorry, no idea. But Quinn lost his mind over it, I know that much.”
I’ve only seen Quinn Smythe a handful of times. On each occasion, he’s given off a confident, privileged vibe, but the last few times I’ve seen him, at Jack’s court appearances, he’s looked gaunt, scared.
“What business would Jack have with Anton’s son a week before his death? It can’t be connected to Anton getting killed, can it? Surely a coincidence?” Davina whispers to me.
“I don’t believe in coincidences,” I tell her.
28
Leila
