The Cold Light of Mourning - By Elizabeth J. Duncan Page 0,94

The smile that was just starting to form faded quickly when he saw how agitated she was.

“It’s all about drugs,” Penny said. “Here, look at this,” she added as she pushed the piece of paper across his desk. “It wasn’t MOMA, to do with the Museum of Modern Art, it’s MDMA. Ecstasty. He’s into drugs, probably in a big way, and Meg Wynne must have found out about it. That’s why he killed her.”

Davies picked up the paper and handed it to Bethan. “Sort this out later with the paper we took from her room,” he said.

“Let’s have the phone.”

He gestured to Penny to sit down.

“Williams poses a huge flight risk,” he said, “so we’ve got to reel him in carefully. We’ll keep Emyr where he is for another day or two.”

As Penny started to protest, he held up his hand.

“It’s okay. He understands. If we release Emyr, Williams will know we’re onto him. So we’ve just made Emyr a bit more comfortable. Upgraded his accommodations, you might say. Told him it won’t be for much longer.”

He pointed at the phone on his desk.

“Right, now Bethan. I want you to text him, pretending you’re Gillian, and ask him to come and see you. Tell him you’ve got important information he needs to know. Tell him to come to Llandudno. Say visiting hours are Monday from two to four. Tell him to get back to you.”

Davies and Penny watched as Bethan picked up the phone and using two thumbs deftly entered the message, read it over carefully, showed it to Davies, and when he nodded and handed the phone back to her, sent it. Exhaling quietly, she put the phone on the table and sat back.

They waited and a few minutes later came the text-speak reply: C U

“Right,” said Davies. “Let’s get our welcoming party ready.”

On Monday afternoon, Gillian Messenger, looking pale and exhausted, was led into a visiting area in the Llandudno jail. Dressed in jeans with a dark green turtleneck pullover and wearing the bright yellow vest that identified her as a prisoner, she looked about her uncertainly and then sat down at an empty table. A few moments later, David Williams was ushered in.

Impeccably dressed as usual, he made his way slowly over to her, taking in every detail of the room, including the guard who stood with his arms folded beside the heavy door.

The room had about a dozen small tables in it, and almost every one was occupied. The female prisoners were of all ages, some young, wearing their hair in ponytails, others middle aged or even approaching retirement age.

Their visitors included young, fit men and grey-haired older men. They talked quietly and calmly.

Gillian’s face lit up as David approached her table.

“David!” she said. “Am I glad to see you. My solicitor is trying for bail, and I can’t wait to get out of here. How have you been? How are things?”

He glared at her.

“How could you let yourself get caught, you stupid bitch!” he whispered. “What the bloody hell were you thinking?”

“I know, I know,” she said. “It was that credit card you gave me. When it was declined, I just started to freak out.”

“Anyway,” said David. “Let’s get to it. What did you want to tell me?”

“Me?” said Gillian. “Nothing, I …”

David shot a glance around him.

“You didn’t text me to come here?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “How could I? They took my phone. They don’t let you use your own phone. You have to use the one in the hall and there’s always a queue.”

Bewildered, she tried to read the look on his face.

“What is it? What’s the matter?”

“Right. I’m getting out of here,” he hissed as he pushed back his chair and began to stand up.

Across the room a young woman in a prisoner’s visiting vest also stood up, walked over to him, and placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Sit down, please, Mr. Williams,” she said.

He pushed her aside as complete quiet fell over the room and all eyes turned to him. Then, several other prisoners and their visitors stood up.

“Sit down, please, Mr. Williams,” she repeated.

As he reacted to the unmistakable authority in her voice and sank slowly into his chair, a guard approached Gillian, touched her on the arm, and then led her, sobbing quietly, out of the room.

Williams watched her go.

“Look,” he said easily, “I don’t know who you are or what’s going on here, but there has to be some mistake. I just dropped in to visit