Free The Far Side of the Sun by Kate Furnivall

needs one. She’s not looking good.’

He regarded her coldly. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘Please.’ She was hoping to get a drinking glass in her hand. Not much of a weapon, but something.

‘No. Don’t ask again.’

For a moment there was a tense silence broken only by the wind whining through the rigging.

‘That’s where Morrell came in, isn’t it?’ Dodie said. ‘To deal with Sir Harry.’

‘Damn right it is. He was supposed to
persuade
Oakes. Morrell was a mobster, he knew a hundred different methods of persuasion – backed up by your sharp young friend who is now first in line for the hangman’s noose.’ He slammed a fist down on the table. ‘It fell apart. Because Oakes bought Morrell off with his gold.’

‘So you killed Morrell and Oakes.’ The words tasted sour in Dodie’s mouth.

Hector started to laugh, a thin lifeless sound that made Ella drop her face into her hand.

‘Don’t look so horrified, Miss Wyatt. I’m not the only one with his hands dirty. Your American friend —’

‘He has a name,’ Dodie said angrily.

‘Well, do you know that your Mr Hudson went over to the Gregory Sewing Factory before he was arrested and put Stan Gregory in hospital?’ He smiled with grim satisfaction. ‘Ah, I see you didn’t. I rather thought you might have got him to do it for you.’

Flynn. Oh Flynn
.

‘He will see you hang before he does,’ she hissed.

Dodie didn’t see it coming, the sudden explosion of rage that transfused Hector’s face, turning his narrow cheeks purple. He stepped forward and lashed out at Dodie, a slap with the full weight of his arm behind it. Her head snapped back and her eyes rolled in their sockets. She sprang to her feet, making a lunge at him, but he had stepped quickly away and she was anchored to the brass railing by the handcuffs.

‘Listen to me, you bitch,’ he shouted at her. ‘I don’t intend to swing for those murders. Or for yours.’

He bounded up the steps and was gone.

She didn’t listen.

He could see it in her eyes when he told her to stay away from Hector Latcham. She was saying yes, when what she meant was no. He knew it when she ran for the door, he knew that the first place she would go was to Hector Latcham, to protect her friend Ella Sanford. He paced out the hours, cursing himself, cursing Morrell.

Cursing Hector Latcham.

He thought of the obeah curse he had wished on Hector. The hairbrush. The fine strands of brown hair from Hector’s head, and the power of Mama Keel’s magic. Could it destroy him? He grimaced at his own foolishness, but it was all he had left now.

That one small bead of hope.
     
    ‘Out!’

Flynn was under the window, watching the day drain out of the sky. The lights in his cell were so bright and so relentless that his eyes had to fight to focus on the subtle changes of colour outside that told him the passing of time.

‘Out!’

Flynn regarded the prison warden with distaste. ‘What now?’

‘You’re free to go.’

‘Is this a joke?’

‘No, man. You can walk out of here.’

Flynn headed straight for the door. ‘A free man?’

‘Yes. Collect your belongings, sign the form and get out of here.’ He was grinning, a big white-toothed grin.

‘What happened? Why now?’

‘Ah, it was your landlord. He thinks he made a big mistake.’

Flynn was running down the corridor.
Thank you, Mama Keel. I owe you.
     
    Where was she?

Too late now for her to be at Portman Cay.

Hector’s office? It would be shut for the night.

Hector’s house?

He remembered the dark-haired wife asleep in the bed. She was probably at the house right now, waiting with her martini for her husband to finish his drinks in some bar with the Bay Street Boys. A normal day. No, she wasn’t likely to help him.

Who then?

Ella Sanford.
     
    ‘Mrs Sanford ain’t here.’

The maid in her white uniform was staring at Flynn with wide worried eyes, her hands fretting at each other.

‘Do you know where she is?’ he