‘You’re not helping, all right?’ Danny said resentfully to Richard. ‘Just fuck off out of it!’
‘Will I, fuck?’ asked Richard, and then, rounding on Robin again, who he seemed to feel was most likely to give him a rational response, ‘All right, you know he’s alive – why’re you still here?’
‘Because we’d like to ask him some questions about Oliver Branfoot,’ said Robin.
Richard looked from Robin to Danny and back to Robin again.
‘It’s real?’ he said, now looking more shocked than angry. ‘This Branfoot thing? It’s for real?’
‘I told you it fucking was!’ said Danny.
‘Yeah, but you talk a lot of shit, don’t you?’
‘Why don’t you just f—?’
‘It’s real,’ said Robin.
‘How do we know you’re not working for him?’ said Richard.
‘Is it likely we’d mention his name, if we were?’ snarled Strike. He could tell he was going to have a hugely swollen face when they arrived at the B&B.
‘Danny,’ said Robin, ‘how d’you know Lord Branfoot thinks you were the man in the safe?’
‘I was told,’ said Danny.
‘Who by?’
‘I’m not telling you that, no chance. They’ll be in for it next.’
‘You tell us, fuckwit,’ said Richard, who now dragged a third chair out from the table and sat down.
‘What’s it matter who tipped me off?’
‘Was it another actor in Branfoot’s private films?’ asked Robin.
‘I just told you, I’m not – how d’you even know about any of this?’
‘Your friend Fiona put an anonymous note through our office door,’ said Robin. ‘Her boyfriend told her you were the body in the vault, and she believed him. She’s very worried about you.’
‘I know, she kept calling me,’ said Danny, ‘but I couldn’t tell her I was all right, could I, because fucking Craig woulda told Branfoot, if he’d known where I was!’
‘She says Lord Branfoot threatened you, after he paid for you to get your teeth fixed.’
‘He paid for your fucking teeth?’ cried Richard.
‘Yeah,’ said Danny, ‘so what?’
‘Why couldn’t you pay for your own fucking teeth?’
‘He offered, OK?’
‘This is the fucking problem!’ said Richard, jabbing a thick forefinger at Danny. ‘You always want something for fucking nothing!’
‘Branfoot got plenty out of me back, don’t you fucking worry!’
‘What made you come back to Sark, Danny?’ asked Robin.
‘I was – never mind,’ muttered Danny.
‘You tell the fucking truth!’ roared Richard.
‘I was getting a bad vibe!’ shouted Danny. ‘All right?’
‘What fucking bad vibe?’
‘From Branfoot?’ said Robin.
‘Yeah,’ said Danny.
‘What happened?’ said Robin, trying to forestall Richard.
‘I was… walking home one night,’ said Danny haltingly, ‘’n I was followed. Big geezer. I sped up, he sped up. I started to run, so did he. Taxi come along and I flagged it down. I looked back, the bloke was running off in the opposite direction… Branfoot knows people, rough people through his – you know – his bullshit charity stuff. Blokes who’ve been in jail and are up for a bit of cash… he told me once he’s the only man in London who knows as many pigs as criminals… I stayed home for a few days after I was followed but then I saw the geezer again. He was hanging round in the street, looking up at my windows.’
‘Is that when you decided to come home?’ asked Robin.
‘Not straight away. But then this mate of mine called and said fucking Craig was going around talking about how I was gonna be “taken care of”. So – yeah – I packed a bag, waited till the bloke hanging around left for the night, called a taxi and went straight to the airport.’
‘The friend who tipped you off that Branfoot was going to “take care of you”,’ said Robin, ‘is this the same person who told you Branfoot thinks you were the body in the silver shop?’
‘Yeah,’ said Danny. ‘The bloke who was meant to kill me must’ve told Branfoot that was me.’
It was apparent to Robin from Richard’s expression that he’d previously taken Danny’s account of what had made him flee London as either exaggerated, or complete fiction. The arrival of two strangers in pursuit of his brother had clearly come as a shock, but Robin could tell that listening to Danny repeating his story to a third party, especially a third party who was providing confirmation of it, had tipped Richard into a state of alarm he’d hitherto escaped.
‘Well, Branfoot’s not gonna think that body was you for ever, is he?’ Richard said hotly. Pointing at Strike and Robin he said, ‘If they found out, so can bloody Branfoot! How long d’you think it’ll take for him to work out you just came home to Mum?’
‘Look, just fuck off out of this, it’s got nothing to do with you!’ said Danny angrily, standing up so quickly his chair fell over backwards.
‘Danny, please sit down,’ said Robin. ‘Please. We want to help.’
She looked at Strike, inviting his agreement, but as Strike currently wanted little more than to thump Danny himself, he said nothing.
‘You, help?’ Danny said to Robin, and she heard the fear beneath his aggression. ‘How can you bloody help? You’re making it bloody worse! I’m safe as long as he thinks I was the body in the vault, and here’s you trying to prove it wasn’t me!’
‘Well, the obvious way to remove the threat would be to—’
‘No,’ said the de Leon brothers together.
‘He’s not bloody going public,’ said Richard.
‘I’m not talking to the press, no fucking way,’ said Danny.
‘Our mum doesn’t know what he’s been up to,’ said Richard. ‘And she’s not gonna know, either. She only lost our dad last year.’
‘If I talk, Branfoot’ll make sure I’m bloody finished off,’ said Danny.
‘But what Branfoot’s doing is illegal,’ said Robin. ‘He’s filming people without their consent, and if—’
‘They all took money on film, there’s no proof,’ said Danny. ‘If I talk—’
‘But your brother’s right, Danny. When that body’s identified—’
‘Then I’ll go somewhere else,’ said Danny wildly.
‘You’re going to live in hiding for ever?’
‘If I have to!’
‘Christ almighty, what a fucking mess!’ exploded Richard, also standing up. ‘I stuck up for you with Dad, Dan, but Christ’s sake, I’m starting to think he was—’
Danny lunged at his brother; Richard parried his punch, but Danny kept attacking, driving Richard, who appeared not to want to retaliate, back up against the kitchen cupboards. Strike now dropped the packet of peas, heaved himself back onto his feet, interposed his bulk between the brothers and pushed Danny backwards with one large hand on the younger man’s chest.
‘Pick up that chair and fucking sit down,’ he said, ‘and bear in mind that I still owe you one for the fucking spade.’ He pointed at Robin. ‘She’s nicer than I am. My interest in your well-being ended when I found out you were alive. Trouble is, Branfoot’s going after us now, because he thinks we’re going to prove you were the body in the vault, and he appears to have sicced the goons who were after you on to our agency. She’s already been threatened with a fucking dagger.’