Free Cherringham--Death on a Summer Night by Neil Richards

that made up the office wall: “Guess you get a good view of all the punters from here Charlie. See ’em screaming, girls holding tight to their boyfriends in the dark …”
    Charlie shook his head.
    “Look man, I thought you wanted to talk about Dinah Taylor?”
    “Just making conversation,” said Jack.
    “I’ve got a ride to fix. Say what you got to say — then I can get back to work — okay?”
    Jack smiled.
    “Sure,” he said. “You know Tim Bell’s back in town?”
    “Yeah. And I hear you’re trying to prove he didn’t kill the girl.”
    “You think he did?”
    Charlie’s eyes went wide.
    “The truth? No.”
    “Really? You sound pretty sure. That what you told the cops at the time?”
    “Yeah — but they weren’t going to believe me, were they? Carny …”
    “Dealer …”
    Charlie shrugged. “Had to make a livin’, hmm?”
    “Did you sell Tim drugs that night?”
    “Probably.”
    “Any idea what?”
    “Coke. Weed. Who knows?”
    “And you saw him go off with Dinah?”
    “Yeah.”
    “And they never came back?”
    “No. Not together.”
    Jack paused.
    There’d been no reference in any of the witness reports he’d read in the papers to any sighting of either Tim or Dinah later that night.
    “What do you mean — not together?”
    “I told one of the coppers. When we were packing up, I saw a girl by the entrance. Thought it was Dinah. But you know, it was dark, I’d had a few, um … you know …”
    “Were there other people around?”
    “Handful. Drunk most of them. Or stoned.”
    “You didn’t mention it at the trial.”
    “Cops persuaded me I was wrong, didn’t they? They had their ‘story.’ And I’d been smoking all day — how would that look in court … they said.”
    “Ah. And nobody else saw her?”
    “Seems not.”
    Not the first time an inconvenient piece of evidence is left out of the picture, thought Jack.
    “So the cops went easy on you?” he said.
    “Let’s say I didn’t get busted,” said Charlie. “They gave me a hard time about the car though.”
    “What car?”
    “They were tracking Astras. Had a list of local owners. I had an old one, off the road. They gave it a right going over.”
    “But they didn’t find anything?” said Jack.
    “They came up trumps on Tim’s car same day — so they didn’t bother me no more.”
    Jack nodded. Charlie was hardly the most reliable witness — and neither defence nor prosecution would welcome him to the stand.
    “We done?” said Charlie.
    “Guess so,” said Jack. “And Charlie — thanks. The cops may not have wanted to listen …”
    Jack took a breath.
    “But I do …”
    And Charlie got up and showed him out of the office.
    *
    Back in the bright sunlight of the funfair, Jack bought an ice pop … they called them “lollies” apparently. Then went and sat for five minutes on the steps of the Dodgems to take stock.
    If Charlie was right — and Dinah had been at the fair later that night — then surely other witnesses would have seen her.
    But that didn’t make sense — no one had come forward.
    Maybe Charlie had invented the sighting to try and draw the heat off his pal Tim … and then ended up believing it?
    He’d seen that before plenty of times. False memories becoming real ones.
    He tasted the icy lolly, like none he’d ever had back in NYC.
    It was a sharp reminder — this fair might look and smell the same as back home, the summer sun beating down just the same … but he was in a different country and his childhood was far, far behind.
    His cell rang.
    “Sarah.”
    “Can you talk?”
    “I’m eating a … what is this thing? A Twister.”
    “Really? I would have had you down as a choc-ice man, Jack.”
    “When in Cherringham …”
    “Well, keep eating and I’ll update you.”
    Jack listened as she told him about Rik the music teacher. And how he’d stumbled when she’d hit him with a direct question.
    “Nice work,” he said.
    “I thought so too,” she said,