Echoes of Lies Read Online Free Page A

good news; and on receipt of the fee the name and address of the man who cheated her. And she thought that was the end of it.
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    â€œThen this morning,” Brodie said, and both her voice and the hand she pointed shook, “I saw that.”
    Her first desperate thought was that it was a coincidence. But even then she didn’t believe it. She grabbed the phonebook; the Doyle family weren’t listed so she hurried out to her car. But the River Drive houses ended at number 56.
    â€œThen I knew,” she whispered. “I don’t know how much of what she told me was true - maybe none of it. But she wanted him for something, and she used me to find him. I never suspected! I swear
to you, I never guessed she meant to do anything like - like …” She hadn’t the words. She folded in her chair, defeated.
    The telephone rang. Detective Inspector Deacon answered it. The other party did most of the talking; Deacon said “Yes” and “I see” a couple of times, and once he said, “Right.” Then he put the phone down and turned his attention once more to Brodie Farrell.
    â€œWell now,” he said, and waited for her eyes to come up before going on. “Is there anything else you can tell me? About this Mrs Doyle, for instance.”
    â€œI met her twice, for perhaps thirty minutes in total. I have a good picture of her in my mind. If I could work with the E-fit people … ?”
    â€œYes, I’ll organise that once you and me are finished. I’ll also want a statement from you. But let’s be sure, first, that we’ve covered everything you’ll want to put in it.”
    She knew what he was suggesting: that she’d been less than frank. “Inspector, if I knew any more - about Selma Doyle, about any of it - I would tell you. I’ve nothing to hide. I’m ashamed of my stupidity, appalled by what I’ve been a party to, but I never guessed how the information I gathered would be used. I don’t think I’ve committed an offence, although right now that isn’t much comfort. What happened to Daniel Hood would have been impossible without my help. I don’t know if he did what the woman calling herself Selma Doyle said he’d done; I’m not sure it matters. Nothing he did could have justified what was done to him. I’m here to help find the people responsible.”
    â€œPeople?”
    â€œThe only one I had any dealings with was Mrs Doyle,” said Brodie. “But Inspector, surely to God you don’t think that a middle-aged woman who’d lost her money and her dignity to a toyboy would hit back like this? Torture him, shoot him and dump him in a skip?”
    â€œHell hath no fury …” murmured Deacon.
    â€œPerhaps not, but she was a plump forty-year-old woman, not Arnold Schwartzenegger. She couldn’t have lifted a man’s body into a skip. She must have had help.”
    â€œYours, for starters.”
    Tears started to Brodie Farrell’s eyes. She wanted to throw the
words back in his face, but they were true. She dipped her head. “I didn’t know what I was helping her to do.”
    â€œYou really thought she was just going to give him a piece of her mind? And that, as a result of that, he’d return her money?”
    â€œI suppose so. I didn’t give it that much thought. I did what I was paid for, it was up to her how she used the information.” She heard how that sounded and flushed. “I never expected her to use it like that!”
    Deacon wasn’t sure what to make of her story. There were things he didn’t understand, things he’d want clarified. But he didn’t have the sense that he was talking to a cold-blooded killer, and if she wasn’t that then perhaps her account was true.
    He stood abruptly. “Mrs Farrell, will you come with me, please.”
    She looked up, took a deep breath. “If you’re going to