Helping Sarah

Chapter 5

Sarah

"You've hired a what?"

"Keep your voice down, please." Shushing my best friend since primary school, I gestured to my son who was skipping along the pavement a few steps ahead of us and then darted a quick glance around us.

Bad enough that at three years old every word spoken in Charlie's vicinity seemed to be sucked into his brain only to be repeated at the least opportune moment, but all around us other children and parents were on their way to the Green Leaf Day Nursery, and I hadn't the faintest wish for any of the perfectly made up mothers who smiled so strained at me to know about Michael.

They would only want to know why I had hired a private detective, and the concerns Lenny and his claim were bound to inspire in their already suspicious minds would only mean an anonymous call to the social services, and then another string of visits from a social worker.

I did not want that.

Lisa swung her arms out, a bit of coffee sloshing out of the small hole in the lid of her cup, but she at least did as I asked. "But why a private detective?"

"I had to," I said, supressing a shiver. "I called the police on Sunday and DI Murphy Monday morning, but he doesn't care. He won't do anything."

Even now, four days after Lenny's visit, I still felt chilled to the bone when I recalled the sight that had met me when I'd scrambled after Charlie into the hallway and seen Lenny's expression as he'd stared at my son, the speculation in his beady eyes.

I looked at my son, my world, then back to Lisa and added in a low voice, "I can't just sit back and wait for Lenny to come for us."

"I know," she sighed grimly. "You know you're welcome to move in with me. You can hide from that di–" Lisa glanced at her nephew, grimaced and instead said, "that person at my place."

"I know we can," I said, chuckling despite the topic of our conversation. Half the bad words Charlie knew, he'd learnt from his aunt who was trying hard to curb her vocabulary after Charlie had asked her what a dig'hed was.

Lisa often joined us in the mornings on our walk to Charlie's nursery. My friend and sister-in-law lived just ten minutes away, and our route was on her way to the bus, and, she claimed, the walk meant she didn't have to waste time in a gym.

"But living with you," I continued, "is not going to make Lenny go away, and I don't want to risk him threatening you or your parents instead."

"He can try," she snorted. Then sobered with a grimace. "Have you told Mum and Dad about him?"

I shook my head. "No, I don't want them to worry." My in-laws were both professors at the university, and I defy you to find two more kind-hearted, wonderful people in all of Britain. After Lisa and I found each other in primary school, I had practically lived with them. My aunt hadn't much cared where I spent my time, and Helen and Benji hadn't much cared that there was an extra mouth at the table most days, or an extra little girl who needed praise and comforting and hugs. They had freely given all of it.

If I told them about Andrew's debt to Lenny, I knew without a doubt that they would offer to pay off the drug dealer, just to help me and Charlie, but they had already spent most of their savings on Andrew's rehab. I couldn't ask them for this too.

"What's he supposed to do, this private detective?" Lisa asked.

"I've asked him to help me gather evidence that Lenny is behind the threats. Evidence that I can take to the police and that will force them to finally do something."

She considered for a moment, her head to the side. Then reluctantly said, "I suppose it makes sense."

It did. It made perfect sense. I had to do something to protect Charlie, and other than flee Cambridge, which would risk setting Lisa and my in-laws up as Lenny's next target, I had no idea what else to do to stop Lenny than hire someone to help me.

After having banged my head against a brick wall every time I'd called the police, talking to Michael had already helped. On the train back to Cambridge on Tuesday was the first time in a week I had felt something approaching optimistic. I wasn't dealing with Andrew's drug dealer alone anymore, someone was listening to me, someone was willing to help me.

The optimism had lasted until yesterday afternoon just before I'd gone to collect Charlie when Lenny had called again and told me he was going to break my legs if I didn't pay.

I'd been tapping Michael's phone number the second after I'd disrupted Lenny's call. He was coming to see me today to tell me what he'd learnt so far and what I could do to protect us while he gathered evidence. I was rather looking forward to his visit.

Lisa's forehead creased. "How did you even find a private detective? I'm guessing they don't advertise in the local newspaper."

"Ben recommended him."

She stopped in the middle of the pavement. "You've told Ben about Lenny?"

There was so much hope in my friend's expression it stabbed at my chest when I shook my head. Though she acted calm, I could tell Lisa was worried about Lenny too. I had only told her about him and his threats because she'd been with me one of the times he'd called and she had seen my face when I'd answered the phone.

Otherwise, I wouldn't have told her. I didn't want to tell Andrew's family about the trouble he'd left for Charlie and me. My husband had already caused his family so much pain and heartache, and though Ben would deny it to his last breath, I knew my brother-in-law still hadn't forgiven his younger brother for what he'd done. As far as I was able, I was determined to deal with Lenny myself.

With Michael's help now.

"No," I said to Lisa, "but Ben's mentioned James Everett a few times, so I looked him up and called him." My brother-in-law hadn't as such said that I should call Mr Everett if I was ever in need of a private detective, Ben had just mentioned that he was very good at his job.

"I know James," Lisa said. "I've met him a few times. He's a friend of my boss."

"Mr Everett wasn't at his office when I got there, so I spoke with his partner, and he agreed to help me."

"His what?"

"Partner. His name is Michael Smith."

Lisa stared at me with open bafflement. "Michael?" she repeated, the crease between her eyebrows deepening. "The same name as my Michael?"

I couldn't help but laugh at her befuddlement. Lisa was PA to a tech genius by the name of Michael Bradford who had invented a popular mobile game called GoatRace while at university. It was still one of the most downloaded games for smartphones, and though he'd sold his firm, Capra Games, for millions of pounds earlier this year, Mr Bradford was still attached to the firm as a consultant and Lisa was still his PA.

If all went well and the bosses of Zen Media, the firm that had bought Capra Games, liked my ideas, I too would soon be employed by them. All fingers that could be crossed, were. I really wanted that job.

"It is possible for two people to have the same name," I told her, then leaned in and lowered my voice conspiratorially. "They don't even have to know each other to share a name."

Grinning, Lisa rolled her eyes at me, but a new frown appeared. "I didn't know James has a partner."

"I think it's a fairly new arrangement," I replied as I smiled at a tall, blonde woman coming towards us; Cynthia Dowden, the mother of one of the other children at Charlie's nursery. I quickly wiped at the corners of my mouth to make sure there was no toothpaste or coffee stains there and tucked my hair behind my ears. I'd only had time for a quick brush before we'd rushed out of the door and hadn't gathered it.

"Good morning, Cynthia," I called to her.

The woman turned her head towards us, but it took a moment before her lips curved. "Hey," she replied with nothing but a lift of her chin. Then turned her head away and crossed the road for the other pavement.

Swallowing down a sigh, I added to Lisa, "Mr Smith didn't even have his own desk yet, but he seemed nice."

Lisa's head veered back to me and the face she'd been making at Cynthia's back cleared. "Oh? How nice?"

"Don't start. Just nice. And kind."

"Handsome?"