Page 137 of Better the Devil

Eleanor sighed. ‘He had anger issues. I think he probably was involved in drugs stuff.’

‘Speculation on my client’s part, not an admission of prior knowledge,’ Fairweather stressed.

‘CID is convinced of it. They reckon he was a big player,’ Logan said.

‘Then you’ll have to talk to them,’ Eleanor replied.

‘It doesn’t bother you? The possibility? You with two young kids in the house?’

That got a reaction. For the first time since she’d sat down, something real and raw flashed across Eleanor’s face.

‘Keep my kids out of this. My kids are fine. They’re great. I look after them. I love my kids.’

‘I’m sure you do,’ Logan assured her. ‘I wasn’t doubting that for a second. But, OK, taking Victor out of it. His brothers. That the sort of people you want around your children? People who, you admit yourself, may be capable of murder.’

‘Nobody admitted anything of the sort,’ Fairweather said.

‘She didn’t deny it, though. She just shrugged. That’s a “maybe” in my book,’ Logan shot back.

By the time he switched his gaze back to Eleanor, she was looking more relaxed again. Unbothered by his questions, or by the implications of them. Once again, she almost seemed amused by the theatre of it all.

Something about that look stirred something deep in Logan’s gut. He shouldn’t go for it yet, though. He should keep skirting around it, picking away at the edges, seeing what else he might uncover.

‘Tell me about what happened to Jason. Your first husband.’

That one caught her by surprise. She sat there blinking for a few seconds, before pulling herself together.

‘What do you mean?’

‘It must’ve been devastating for you. First love. High school sweethearts,’ Logan said.

‘It was.’

‘Is this really relevant?’ Fairweather asked.

‘It broke me,’ Eleanor said, ignoring him.

‘I can imagine. And I’m sorry to go over it all again, but he took his own life, yes?’

Something glassy passed over her eyes, like a protective layer. ‘Yes. He’d been struggling for a bit. Mentally. Got into doing drugs. On the street, in the flat. I told him he had to stop. That we had a baby on the way, and he couldn’t keep doing it.’

‘And?’ Logan prompted. ‘Did he?’

‘Well, he went out to a bothy near a place called Devil’s Point and hanged himself. So, aye. I suppose he did, in a way.’

There was still bitterness and anger there, Logan could tell. But she was keeping a tight leash on it.

‘I’m sorry,’ Logan said.

‘Wasn’t your fault,’ Eleanor replied. She looked to the door, then around at the room, like she was only just clocking where she was. ‘Where’s that other detective? The one who was good with Jack?’

‘Home,’ Logan told her. ‘He’s got kids of his own to get to.’

Eleanor nodded, like this made sense. ‘He was good with him,’ she said again. ‘It was nice. Nice change from the way you lot usually are.’

‘Aye, well, being the wife of a suspected drug trafficker’ll do that, I suppose.’

She sneered at that. Actually sneered, her nostrils flaring in disgust like he’d turned around and broken wind in her face.