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Celia looked tense as she smoked her third cigarette in a row.
‘I need to know,’ Slim said. ‘It could be important. The last person I need feeding me lies is you.’
‘I didn’t kill my daughter or my father,’ Celia said, throwing the cigarette butt into the hedge as she leaned against the bonnet of the Ford Fiesta. The dirty grey-blue car had replaced the Metro, which she said was in for servicing.
‘I’m not saying you did. There’s no evidence or motive, isn’t that what the police might have said? What I want to know is why you waited two days before calling the police.’
Celia’s hands were shaking. Slim handed her the hip flask which she snatched out of his hand. She took a long swallow before she answered.
‘My mother wanted to tidy up,’ she said. ‘After all, Charlotte didn’t official
