Free No Cherubs for Melanie by James Hawkins Page B

in the pile of cardboard boxes stacked untidily against one wall of the apartment. “It’s got to be here somewhere,” he muttered, searching for Melanie’s file — a copy of it anyway, from twenty years ago. Shehad always been in the back of his mind and he had never been able to let go of the thought that he had somehow failed the little girl, so he was certain he had kept the paperwork.
    A school photograph of his own daughter fell out of an old exercise book and jogged his memory. Samantha! Maybe it’s in that pile of stuff I stored in her attic after Sarah threw me out, he mused, and scrabbled to find the phone which was buried beneath piles of law books, LPs, and a bundle of love letters he’d sent to Sarah during their courtship. “You keep these,” she had said while they were cleaving apart their intertwined lives, making it clear by her tone that neither his love nor his letters were any longer her concern.
    â€œHi, Dad,” Samantha said, answering her phone the moment it rang. “That’s a coincidence, I was just going to call you. How are you doing?”
    He considered explaining, but chose not to. “I’m back at work.”
    â€œGreat.”
    â€œNot really. They’ve given me an impossible murder just to keep me occupied, and fed me a load of garbage about being the only one who could solve it.”
    â€œOh.”
    Bliss picked up a distinct lack of surprise in her voice. “Did you know about this?” he asked, suddenly suspicious.
    â€œWhat?” she replied guardedly.
    A penny dropped. “You had something to do with this didn’t you?”
    Her tone was mischievous, “What, Dad, murder? You know me better than that.”
    â€œNo. You know what I mean. You spoke to DCI Bryan, didn’t you?”
    â€œWho me?”
    â€œYes, you.”
    â€œI might have.”
    â€œHuh. You bloody lawyers are all the same.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œAlways interfering in other people’s problems.”
    â€œThat’s what we lawyers get paid for. Anyway, it’s reassuring to hear you admit you have a problem.”
    Bliss tried bravado but his voice lacked conviction. “I could have sorted it myself.”
    Samantha moved on. “Tell me about the murder.”
    â€œIt’s three murders, actually.”
    â€œThree. I didn’t know.”
    â€œNeither did the DCI. Anyway, as you dropped me in it, you can buy me dinner and give me some free legal advice while I tell you about it.”
    She laughed. “Tonight?”
    â€œCan you?”
    â€œSure. Pick me up at eight. If I’m paying for dinner you can drive, deal?”
    He immediately sussed out her plan: he who drives, does not drink. “I’d like to lodge an appeal…”
    â€œTake it or leave it.”
    â€œOK. I’ll be there.” He’d half put the phone down before he remembered. “Sam,” he shouted into the mouthpiece, and caught her just in time. “I just remembered. I can’t drive. Someone’s nicked my car.”
    â€œA likely story,” she laughed.
    â€œStill smoking I see,” she chided as he clambered into her car two hours later.
    â€œSo?”
    â€œI wouldn’t mind, Dad, but you used to be so fucking sanctimonious when we were kids.”
    â€œSamantha! Do you have to swear?”
    â€œAll lawyers do. Anyway, don’t change the subject, I’m not going anywhere until you’ve got rid of that awful stink.”
    Bliss took a long drag then tossed the barely smoked butt out of the window.
    â€œLitter lout.”
    â€œI can’t win, can I?”
    â€œIt’s not a competition, Dad. I just worry about you that’s all.”
    â€œHow’s your mother?” he asked as they drove off.
    â€œDad, do you really care?”
    â€œOf course I do.”
    â€œMaybe if you’d shown her how much you cared she