by Sofia Grey
“We had some business in town, and were staying with friends. I left to visit my best friend, Lara, around seven in the evening. Her husband was away in Paris, so I suggested that she stay with us for the night. We went to catch the Tube, but there was a problem on the lines. We waited for ages, and I decided that we’d go back up to the surface and find another way back. I spoke to Alex, he came out to pick us up, and we went back to our friends’. That’s it.”
DS Cooper’s face was impassive. “Okay, but now perhaps we could go through it again with a bit more detail?”
It was time for Alex to join in. “Are you accusing my wife of anything?”
The DC looked surprised. “No, sir.”
“So was it worth coming all this way? We’re busy. You could have done this with a simple phone call.”
DS Cooper waited until Alex finished, then gave him an artificial smile. “The sooner we’ve gone through your wife’s statement, sir, the sooner we’ll be finished.” He looked back at Sylvie. “Now, then, let’s go back to when you arrived at Mrs. Anderson’s house. Take it from there.”
This was ridiculous. An hour later, they were still going through Sylvie’s testimony and checking the tiniest of details. Alex stared out the kitchen window at the sunshine. They could be walking on the beach or rehearsing or shagging. Doing anything except this.
Someone said his name, and he realised they’d gone quiet.
Sylvie’s scowl filled her face.
Alex hauled his attention back and tried to speak politely. “Would you repeat that, please?”
DS Cooper said, “There are suggestions that the deceased was a supplier of class-A drugs. Would you know anything about that, Mr. Hamilton?”
For fuck’s sake. Alex glared at him. “Why would I? I didn’t know the man.”
The cop looked innocent. “Your wife did, sir. I thought you might have met him socially.”
“I didn’t know him.” Sylvie sounded furious. “I worked at TM-Tech while he was there. It doesn’t mean I knew him. I don’t think I ever met him.”
DS Cooper referred to his notes with a studied casualness. “Yet your best friend Lara Anderson recalls you having at least one meeting with him.”
Sylvie rolled her eyes and spoke as if to a simpleton. “I worked at TM-Tech for less than a year, and I worked with Lara on an audit programme. So yes, there is a distinct possibility our paths crossed at work. I don’t recall ever speaking to him. And I only met Alex after I left TM-Tech.”
She took a sharp breath and stood, visibly angry. “I’m getting fed up with this. What the hell is it all about?”
“This is a murder enquiry, Mrs. Hamilton. I thought you knew that.” DC Mackenzie smiled at her.
Alex joined in. “I’ve had enough of this farce. If you’ve no further questions, I think we told you everything we could.”
“Actually, Mr. Hamilton, we’d like to ask you a few questions as well.”
Alex longed to grab their collars and throw them both out. He crossed his arms, instead, and gave the guy a terse nod.
“Your wife tells us that you collected her, in Mr. Merrill’s car, at around half past nine. Did you speak to Karl Gordon at all?”
Jesus Christ. “No, I did not.”
They carried on for another ten minutes. Had he met Nick? Did he know about Nick’s friendship with Adele? Did Alex know where Jason lived?
Alex hesitated before answering. “I know Jason lived in the TM-Tech block—the one their execs on secondment use.”
DS Cooper raised his eyebrows, and Alex cursed silently for having volunteered this snippet of information. “Have you been to Jason’s apartment?” The detective flicked to a fresh page in his notebook, and Alex sighed.
“No. My ex-girlfriend lived in one of the apartments for a while. I visited her there once.” Before they could leap in with another question, he continued. “This was almost year ago. I haven’t been back there since.”
It took for-fucking-ever, but finally, they left. Sylvie saw them out, and then came back to the kitchen.
“Come here, babe.” He wrapped his arms around her. “I’m sorry.”
She looked up at him, her brow creased. “What have you got to be sorry for?”
“I don’t trust the police. I’ve had a few minor infringements with them, and they put my back up. If I weren’t such a dick, this would have probably been over in ten minutes.”
She giggled. “Infringements, huh? Are those the sort you inhale or swallow?”
“Cheeky. Probably both actually. But never again.”
Her hands slipped into his back pockets, and she eased closer. “You wouldn’t do that again, would you?”
“Never. The strongest thing I take now is aspirin. Drugs killed Sam, and had me close to the edge more times than I care to remember. Charlie and Mick smoke a bit of dope, but that’s all. They know my views. Drugs have no place in our lives.”
Sylvie buried her face in his chest, and he dropped a kiss onto her hair. The day was half over, but the shitty part was done with. Now they could relax. He slid his hands across her ass and noted a hard lump in her jeans. Curious, he slipped two fingers into her pocket at the same time she whipped a hand round to stop him.
“What’s that?” He was teasing.
“Nothing.”
“Go on. Doesn’t feel like nothing.” He nudged her hand away and dug his fingers into her pocket, to tug out a small metal object.
“Alex.”
He ignored the warning note in her voice and stared at the object in his hand. He’d seen one before but would never expect Sylvie to have one.
“Syl, why the fuck are you carrying a knife?”
****
Jordan was having a well-deserved lazy Saturday morning with Kate and Poppy. They were planning to go for a drive in the autumn sunshine and maybe a quiet pub lunch somewhere. He was surprised and annoyed when two detectives arrived at the front door.
DS Cooper again, this time with DC Mackenzie.
What the hell were they doing here? His brain kicked into action. Alex mentioned it last night.
“I’m sorry to disturb you at home,” DS Cooper looked anything but sorry. “We were in the area, and there’s a couple of things we wanted to check with you.”
“Sure. How can I help?”
“On Wednesday evening, we asked if you knew of any reason someone might have a grudge against Jason Farnley.”
Jordan nodded.
“We found it a little odd that you didn’t mention the alleged rape of Adele Bisset. That could be construed as good reason for a grudge.”
Jordan sighed. His lovely morning plans would have to go on hold.
****
Adele planned to hide from the world on Saturday. Her face was puffy from crying and her eyes red rimmed. Her emotions were so fragile, she felt she’d crack into a thousand pieces if anyone so much as looked at her.
After doing some laundry, she snuggled up on the sofa with a fluffy blanket and flicked through the offerings on the movie channel, for something lightweight. Nothing that demanded attention. Her focus was shot.
When her phone beeped with a text, she contemplated ignoring it, but it might be Nick. She reached out and grabbed it, to find a message from Karl.
Hi Adele. Need to speak to you. Can we meet in Starbucks later? Say 2pm. I’m also asking Nick.
She looked at the time. It was almost one. She shrank from the idea of going outside, and especially to Starbucks. She could never face going back there. Not when she behaved so badly.
She’d say no and give a lame excuse.
Only this was Karl asking, and she owed him. And Nick would be there.
She had to go.
An hour later, she hesitated in the doorway of the café, heavy-duty concealer in place. As she’d expect for a Saturday afternoon, it was busy, the queue snaking almost out of the door.
She closed her fingers tightly around her purse and prayed one of the others would already be there.
A second later, she saw Karl, sitting at a window table, a steaming mug in front of him.
He looked as tired as she felt, but he gave her a smile, and it was enough to get her moving. She nodded to him, and then joined the queue. One coffee—that was all. Half an hour, and then she’d escape to her apartment.
“Hey,” said Nick behind her.
She spun around. “Hey, yourself,” she said, and felt pleased at how normal it came out. “Is Lara with you?”
“No. She’s gone to her parents today. Some family birthday thing. She’ll be back this evening.”
“Thank you for calling me back last night. I needed that.”
“I wish I could do more.”
She wished that too. In another universe, another Adele might be happily married to another Nick. It could never happen here, when he already had Lara. Adele might not have behaved impeccably, but she’d never have an affair with a married man.
They placed their orders, waited for the drinks to be served, and then went to join Karl.
Lines of strain tracked across his forehead, and he tapped an impatient rhythm with his fingers. “Well,” he said, his voice tight. “I spent most of Friday being interviewed by the police. They dragged me back in, first thing this morning. I think they’re trying to set me up.”
Adele was speechless, but Nick spoke. “What the fuck? What did they say?”
Karl tilted his chair against the wall and tipped back his head. “I’m fucked,” he whispered. “Someone from work came forward and told them I was arguing with Jason on Monday.”
Nick frowned. “And?”
“I’ve been quoted as saying, You won’t get away with this. I’ll make you pay for what you did.” Karl looked at Nick and then Adele. “They think I pushed him under the fucking train.”
Adele heard the fear in his voice. “Just because you had an argument, it doesn’t mean you killed him.” The idea of Karl killing anything was ridiculous.
“It’s a motive,” said Karl. “So they say. Now they need some evidence. They had a search warrant, and they’ve torn my house apart, looking for anything they can use. From what the people at work are saying, they did the same with his office. Jesus. It’s a fucking nightmare.”
Nick took a sip of his coffee. “It’s not just you. I was in Paris, but they’re suggesting I managed to get back to London, push him under the train, then go back to Paris. How crazy is that? I don’t think they have any idea, so they’re clutching at straws.”
“Maybe.” Karl didn’t sound reassured.
Adele had to let go of her drink. Her hands were trembling too much to hold it. She didn’t care whether Jason killed himself or someone pushed him. She wanted this over.
“They spent hours interviewing Lara,” said Nick. “And her friend Sylvie.”
Karl glanced up. “Is that the girl she was with at the Tube station? She looked familiar, but she said she lives in Wales.”
“Yeah, she does. Sylvie used to work at TM-Tech, so you might have seen her in the office.”
Karl’s phone buzzed with a call, and he stepped away from the table to take it. Adele gazed at Nick. He stared absently out of windows. His hair stuck up in random tufts today, and he hadn’t shaved.
“Strange isn’t it?” Nick’s voice was soft. “All these people going about their business, nobody paying us the slightest attention? We’ve spent hours this weekend being hassled about Jason’s death, but everyone else carries on as normal. It’s kinda reassuring, isn’t it?”
He turned back to Adele and caught her staring at him. “I’d better go,” he said. He stood and stretched, then bent down, kissed her cheek, and walked out.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sylvie stared back at Alex. He held the knife on the palm of his hand. When she reached to take it, he closed his fingers around it and withdrew.
Something close to panic rippled through her. Her rational mind screamed that she was being silly, but every instinct demanded that she keep the knife. “It’s mine. I’d like it back please.”
Alex widened his eyes and placed the weapon onto the table. “I don’t know what to ask first. Maybe, why the fuck do you have a knife?”
She opened her mouth but hesitated. How could she explain that she had a dream about her ex, in which he told her to carry it? That made her sound crazy. Correction—crazier.
“Where did you get it? Why have I never seen it before?” Alex sounded shocked, rather than angry, and again she sought an explanation.
Every reason came back to Rico and her obsession with him. Why else would she dream of him every night, for weeks? “I keep it for self-defence.” It sounded lame to her, and Alex’s face suggested he thought the same.
“Self-defence? You can kick the shit out of me, and I’m way bigger than you, so why the hell would you need a knife as well?”
Because her dead boyfriend wanted her to keep it? “I’ve had it for ages. I only dug it out the other day.” Sylvie couldn’t look at him. He’d see right through any attempt at a lie, and the last thing she wanted was to hurt him.
He took a seat again, before tugging her to stand beside him. “Syl... I’m worried about you, babe. There’s something you’re not telling me.” His voice was gentle. “I don’t think you should be carrying a knife, and it worries me that you think you need to. If you feel threatened, tell me. We can get security guards if you don’t feel safe. Did something happen?”
She shook her head. She still refused to make eye contact with him.
Alex sighed. “Is this something to do with that weirdo? The rapist?”
“No. I feel safer when I have it; that’s all.”
“Where did you get it?”
The way her heart pounded, Sylvie was surprised Alex couldn’t hear it.
“Syl, where did it come from?”
She couldn’t lie her way out of this, but she’d try. Anything would be better than the truth. “I found it.”
“Found it. Are you sure?”
This time, she met his gaze. “Are you calling me a liar?”
“Should I?”
“Christ,” she muttered. “This is as bad as the police interrogation.” She grabbed the knife and shoved it deep into her back pocket. “I can’t explain, but I feel safer with it on me.”
“Can’t explain, or won’t?” His expression was bleak.
Sylvie had to make this right. She leaned forwards, rested her forehead against his, and placed her right hand against his chest. His heartbeat was strong and sure, and she drew strength from it. “Please, Alex,” she whispered. “Leave it. Trust me.”
“You’re carrying a fucking knife. You refuse to tell me where you got it. And you ask me to trust you? Jesus, Sylvie. You don’t ask much.”
Her head buzzed fit to burst, and something inside her snapped. “I got it from Rico, okay? He taught me how to use it. Satisfied?”
Alex frowned. “That doesn’t explain why you want to carry it now.”
She could lie more, or she could tell the truth and sound like a mad woman. “Because he wants me to.”
Disbelief flashed across Alex’s face. He narrowed his eyes and stared at her. “I don’t understand.”
“Because he wants me to. Get it?” She hurled the words at him, hating the way she was behaving, but unable to stop. “I’m going out.” Before he could say anything, she stomped out of the kitchen and ran down the hall.
“Sylvie.”
She ignored his shout. The front door slammed behind her with a thud that must have made the windows rattle, and she fled. He’d expect her to go to the beach and would probably follow her, but she couldn’t handle more questions. She needed to go where she wouldn’t be disturbed, to find a place where she could untangle the disjointed thoughts swamping her.
Instead of heading to the bottom of the garden and the dunes beyond, she ducked under the trees to the right and scrambled over the stream that separated their garden from Kate’s.
She could hide here. And that was a
nother stupid thought. She loved Alex. There was no reason—not even a tiny one—why she would ever need to hide from him.
A chunk of log looked perfect to sit on, and she claimed it, her knees trembling when she sat. Those damned pills of Frankie’s. She wasn’t taking them again. They made her feel strange. She sank her head into her hands. If only she could wipe out today and start it over.
What the fuck was the matter with her, listening to her dead boyfriend, dreaming constantly about him, and carrying the knife he gave her? She shivered. Was she ill? Or going insane?
The world shrank around her, and she huddled into herself, lost in thought. Hurting Alex was wrong, but so was lying to him. The past few months she’d been spiralling down, every misstep plunging her further into despair. The dreams. The messed-up sleep. Frankie’s pills. Her fear on stage. And every time Alex asked if she was okay, she smiled and said yes and swore to herself that next time she’d tell the truth.
Footsteps crunched towards her, and she sat up. She was a mess. Bare feet and no coat, and now she was frozen too. If Alex saw her like this, he’d worry—if he didn’t already.
To her relief, it was Poppy and Kate, collecting autumn leaves in a basket.
“Suze.” This was Poppy’s nickname for her. The little girl smiled and ran to her for a hug.
Sylvie squeezed tight and looked up to see Kate’s kind face.
“Sylvie. What are you doing here? Alex has been looking for you. Are you okay?”
Sylvie realised why she came here. Her subconscious was at work again. “I think I need to talk to Jordan.”
****
Jordan sighed with relief when he saw the police officers leave. There wasn’t much of the afternoon left, but now he could hang out with his two favourite girls. They went out for a walk ages ago and should be back soon.
It was cold outside, so he headed for the kitchen, to warm some milk for hot chocolate. He also needed a dose of painkillers before his headache became unbearable. Stress made it worse.
The back door opened as he gulped down the pills with a glass of water. “Hey,” he called. “Tea or hot chocolate?”