by L. V. Hay
I laughed, shocking Triss. ‘I don’t care about that.’ Then an idea germinated – I held out my hand. ‘Show me who you went to meet yesterday.’
Triss grabbed her phone from her jacket pocket and handed it over, putting in her passcode first. I accepted it, swiped a finger across the screen, then tapped on the dating app and it opened.
The last picture Triss looked at sprang into life. A surfy, blond guy with a ready smile stared back at me from the screen. He looked vaguely familiar, like I’d seen him before, in a peripheral role in a soap opera, or maybe a TV advertisement. I tapped on his picture and his profile popped up next. I scrolled downwards until I found his mobile number. As I suspected.
I sighed. ‘Triss, this is Maxwell’s number. He catfished you.’
‘You’re kidding…’ Triss clocked my expression, realising I had no reason to lie. ‘Fuck. Ing. Hell!’
I placed a soothing hand on her back, relief washing through me. Triss was no actor. Maxwell was, though. He’d set Triss up with a fake date via the app, only too happy to provide the consolation prize at the bar, knowing Triss would have been despondent, having been stood up. What puzzled me was how he’d guessed I would go over there that afternoon; or perhaps that was just the icing on the cake. Maybe he’d planned to string Triss along, to make me jealous or create a rift between us. Whatever plan he’d had for that had been killed off as surely as he had. Perhaps he’d met his match in Sebastian. He’d pushed him too far, and Sebastian had snapped. I caught my breath. I could almost taste the petrol I’d smelled on Sebastian’s clothes again. I shuddered.
I opened my arms and embraced Triss. She was all I had now. I felt her shuddering body against mine and I was transported back twenty-five years, when our situations had been reversed: when I was crying my eyes out in Triss’s arms, after Mum had died.
My best friend did not betray me.
Forty-eight
‘I didn’t kill Maxwell.’
Sebastian had repeated this mantra on a loop to Lily, to no avail.
He couldn’t have … could he? It was true he had a missing hour or so between leaving Maxwell’s and arriving at the maisonette. But he knew Maxwell had been alive when he left him. Sebastian recalled the dark figure in the alleyway by the front door. And the petrol can. And the raw strength as he’d been pushed back against the brickwork. No, Maxwell had been there. The police must have been wrong about the timings. And then, after Lily and Denny had jumped from the window, he was sure he had seen Maxwell in the alleyway … hadn’t he?
The more he thought about it, the more confident he became. Lily was jumping to conclusions. Sebastian was not a killer.
Lily’s face had been like stone. ‘How could you do this?’ she said through gritted teeth. ‘To Denny. To me! Maxwell had his faults, but kill him?’
‘I did not kill him!’
‘How can I believe you? Look at you: you admit you fought with him. And the fire … What the hell were you thinking? We were still inside!’
Sebastian blinked, unable to follow. Then it clicked. ‘You’re not suggesting I did that?’
Lily stared at him. ‘Did you?’
Sebastian felt like she’d punched him in the gut. He gasped as the air left him; he could not believe she’d doubt him like this. ‘Of course not! I love you. I love Denny! I came to rescue you. Maxwell sent me a text message…’
He groped for his clothes, his phone. They were not on his nightstand, or anywhere nearby. His keys were gone too. On top of the nightstand sat his wallet, nothing else.
Lily’s face was stony. ‘The police must have taken them.’
The curtain fluttered behind her. A young nurse with vibrant purple hair appeared. In a low but firm voice, she asked Lily to leave. They were upsetting the other patients.
‘Happy to.’ Lily didn’t look at the nurse, staring instead at Sebastian, as if cataloguing his face for the last time.
‘Lily, let’s not do this…’ Sebastian began, but she was already standing. She shouldered past the nurse and through the curtain. It swung back after her.
Sebastian lay back down, his head spinning. Lily thought he’d tried to kill her and Denny. But it had to have been Maxwell; whoever had killed him, must have done so after he’d set the fire … He’d sent the text message after Sebastian had left him. And then he’d seen him, in the alleyway. But before he could puzzle this any more, he slipped back into unconciousness.
Again, he dreamed of looking for Denny in school, but this time he saw that Maxwell had him. Sebastian found himself walking down corridor after corridor, Maxwell turning the corner with the little boy just ahead of him, every time he caught sight of them. It didn’t matter how fast Sebastian ran, he was always five steps behind.
He woke in the early evening to find a doctor standing at his bedside. She was young, her face pulled in a perpetual frown, her shoulders tense with stress. She muttered something about someone to see him. On cue, the curtain parted again and two people, a man and a woman, entered his little enclosed space. Sebastian’s gut twisted in apprehension as soon as he recognised them: Detective Inspector Su and Sergeant Meyer.
‘In the wars again, Mr Adair?’ Detective Su commented.
Sebastian nodded, his throat dry.
‘We’d like to ask you a couple of questions, if you’re up to it?’ said Meyer, pulling a notebook and stubby pencil from his inside jacket pocket.
Su traced the end of the bed with long fingers, as if she was bored. ‘So, Mr Adair, can you tell us what happened?’
‘Err, yes, I got to the maisonette and the whole place was on fire—’
Detective Su raised a slender hand. ‘Not at your flat, Mr Adair. At Mr Stevens’ home. You went to see him last night, didn’t you?’
Sebastian’s thoughts clamoured through his brain. Had Lily called the police? Surely not. His mother definitely wouldn’t have. But there would be evidence – Sebastian had been at Maxwell’s; it was pointless to deny it. Sebastian opted for the truth.
‘Yes. We fought.’ He gestured to his swollen face.
Meyer scribbled something down.
Su raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. ‘About what?’
‘You know that Maxwell – Mr Stevens – used to be married to my wife, Lily Adair…’ He stopped, resentment blooming in his chest again, as he recalled his mother’s tearful confession.
He forced it down. He could not tell the police about the rape. He knew he had to downplay anything that gave him motive to kill Maxwell; he was glad he’d not told Lily about what Maxwell had done to his mother. It was obvious now that Sebastian was a suspect. He could not be seen to be glad Maxwell was dead.
Su walked over to the window, her back to him now. ‘I see. So, this was about you feeling Mr Stevens was encroaching on your territory?’
Sebastian ignored her jibe. ‘He was alive when I left.’
Meyer sniffed loudly. ‘We have a witness who says they saw a black Renault leaving Mr Stevens’ property around midnight.’
Su turned. She picked an imaginary thread from her sleeve. ‘You drive a black Renault, isn’t that right, Mr Adair?’
Sebastian gritted his teeth. ‘Yes. But, like I said, he was alive when I left. And I saw him after that … at the fire…’
But as Sebastian said these words, his memory shifted. The sight of Maxwell, hood up, scarf over his face, then again in the alleyway behind the maisonette, seemed to glitch, like bad reception on a TV screen. For the first time, doubt pierced Sebastian’s psyche. Could Lily be right? Maybe he had imagined her ex being there. But who else could have started the fire?
‘The pathologist estimates Mr Stevens’ time of death as being around midnight. When was the fire, Sergeant Meyer?’
The other man flicked back a page. ‘Approximately one-thirty a.m., ma’am.’
Maxwell had disappeared ridiculously quickly when Sebastian chased after him. Had the thump he received to the back of his head made him hallucinate? Sebastian recalled
Lily’s stiff posture by his bedside, her disbelief that Maxwell could have been at the scene.
‘He was alive when I left,’ Sebastian repeated, his fists clenched. He recalled the text message. ‘I have proof! He sent me a message. That was why I went to the flat. You have my phone. Check it, you’ll see.’
‘I can assure you, we don’t.’ Su looked at Sebastian for the first time. Her dark-brown eyes were arresting; he felt like she could see into his soul.
Confusion pierced through Sebastian. If the police hadn’t taken it from his bedside, who had? ‘But my clothes … my phone … they were taken when I came in?’
Detective Su shook her head. ‘Is there anything else you would like to tell us, Mr Adair?’
Sebastian averted his gaze, shook his head. Playing down his potential motive seemed his best option. He could not tell them about Maxwell’s elaborate deception with his mother; or how he’d strong-armed her into it. First, he had to talk to Lily again, see if she had spoken to the police. Figure out what to do.
Su sighed and flicked a hand at Meyer. As she parted the curtain, Meyer moved towards Sebastian, a business card extended from his chubby fingers.
‘If you remember anything else,’ he muttered.
The curtain fell back into place behind him.
Still stiff and sore, Sebastian sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He winced as he pulled the oxygen tube carefully from his raw, bulbous nose.
He had to get out. Now.
Forty-nine
Sebastian rose and dressed carefully. There was a bag of clothes next to his bed now; items from a cheap outlet store with their labels still on. He presumed a nurse had left them for him, realising his clothes had been removed.
His ribs ached; just one of the legacies from his fight with Maxwell. Getting both legs into the boxers and then the tracksuit bottoms was excruciating. He picked up his wallet, checking inside. The money and cards were there; whoever had taken his clothes and phone had not been interested in robbery. For the first time, he wondered if Lily might have taken his clothes. It had been her suggestion it was the police, after all. But that was absurd. Why would she?
He pulled on the T-shirt with a hiss of pain, nostrils flaring from the stench of smoke coming off his hair. There was a pair of flip-flops too. He slipped them on, feeling the strange plastic between his toes.
Sebastian parted the curtain and looked around the room. It was a small side ward, just four beds. There was an internal window that looked directly onto the nurses’ station. The ward sister sat there in her dark-blue uniform, staring at a computer screen and tapping keys. Another nurse appeared and reached over her, grabbing a sheaf of paper.
He was relieved to see no one appeared to be guarding him; there were no police nearby, as far as he could see. So that meant Su and Meyer must have been just making preliminary enquiries, as Sebastian was the last person to see Maxwell alive. They hadn’t read him his rights, after all. It hadn’t been an arrest – they hadn’t interviewed him under caution.
But he was not stupid: Sebastian knew how bad it looked for him. They would be returning, and soon. He had to see Lily and find out what she was going to tell them. And he also had to find out who had killed Maxwell, because it sure as hell wasn’t him.
The bed next to Sebastian was empty; opposite was an old man with sunken cheeks, asleep, the covers pulled up to his chin. Next to him, a young guy with a broad chest and bulging muscles lay with his leg in traction. He turned the pages of a bodybuilding magazine. He looked up as he perceived the swish of Sebastian’s curtain and gave him a nod, before returning to his reading.
Sebastian did not want to have to go through the rigmarole of discharging himself. They would do everything they could to delay him, citing all kinds of concerns – some real, others just tactics. What really worried Sebastian was that they might notify Su and Meyer if he attempted to leave and he had to see Lily, immediately.
Sebastian strode towards the door of the ward. He was conscious of the thwack-thwack-thwack of the flip-flops under the soles of his feet, but he did not flinch. He held up his head and made it out into the corridor, willing the ward sister not to look up from her computer.
She didn’t. But as Sebastian rounded the corner, another nurse coming in the opposite direction clocked him. She slowed. She flashed Sebastian a concerned smile, her visage saying, Where do you think you’re going?
He tried to smile, but didn’t break his stride. ‘Just going down to the shop to buy some magazines. Getting a bit bored.’
The nurse nodded and continued on her way, but as she passed Sebastian he noted that she checked her watch, pinned to the front of her blue smock. He realised she was going to see how long it took him. Time really was of the essence, now.
First, Sebastian limped his way up to the children’s ward. He was able to follow the signs through the labyrinthine building, but even if he’d not seen them, he couldn’t fail to miss the gaudy cartoon characters on the walls to guide preoccupied parents in the right direction. He made it past the door and its codes by tagging along with a large family group who all seemed to be visiting the same child, carrying balloons and gifts. As siblings, cousins and grandparents filed past, Sebastian obligingly kept the door open for the father, who was carrying a large teddy bear, as well as a teen sister who was holding onto the biggest bunch of helium balloons Sebastian had ever seen.
He didn’t get much further than reception, though. A burly male nurse, hands on his hips, blocked Sebastian’s way and looked him up and down. ‘You look like you been in the wars, mate.’
Sebastian touched his raw nose, self-conscious. ‘I’m here to see Denny Stevens.’
The male nurse sighed. ‘You a relative?’
‘I’m his stepfather.’
The male nurse turned his back and huddled with a younger, female nurse who was passing by carrying dirty linen. Just as Sebastian was about to demand whether he could go through, the female nurse spoke, revealing a strong Eastern European accent.
‘Denny gone. Discharged.’ She indicated the bundle of bedclothes in her arms. ‘I change his sheets, now.’
Thanking them, Sebastian turned on his heel as swiftly as his flipflops would allow. Shuffling his way out of the ward, he made it into the lift and down to the ground floor without further incident. The big metal doors parted and he drifted out, hesitant now. In the hallway were a variety of people: a couple of doctors caught up near a vending machine; a male nurse tending to an old woman who trailed an IV stand after her; visitors cutting across the main reception, towards the small café.
A security guard floated near the entrance. He was a big bear of a man with a grey beard and a bald head; his radio was bursting with static. If he knew Sebastian was about to escape, he didn’t show it.
Sebastian fixed his sights ahead and walked towards the big double doors of the entrance. He sailed straight past the burly security guard, into the bright sunlight of the ambulance bay beyond. No one called him back or shouted after him.
He was out.
Fifty
On autopilot, Sebastian managed to hop on a bus and make his way back to the town centre. He just wanted to be home. He’d not been back, not properly, in weeks; now he felt its pull like he was a sailor drawn to the Sirens. Like them, he fantasised about the embrace, the warmth he expected to find. In his confused mind, he felt sure he would get back and Lily and Denny would be waiting for him. Lily would tell him that everything had been a mistake; it had all been just a bad dream.
But as Sebastian rounded the corner of the car park behind the maisonette, he was shocked all over again by the broken glass, the yellow police tape and the scorch marks on the windowsills. There was a strong tang of burnt plastic in the air; it mixed with a more earthy, wood-and-ash smell. He appreciated for the first time just how bad the fire had been. His recollection had been like that of a nightmare: disjointed and perilous, but ultimately hazy.
In the cold light of day, Lil
y and Denny’s lucky escape took his breath away. The alleyway that ran through to the front door and out towards the high street was impassable. It was black with soot, with much of the front of the building demolished by the heat as the brickwork ruptured outwards. But even if rubble hadn’t littered the gangway, Sebastian realised he would never be able to make it up the stairs and into the flat. The stairwell was gone altogether. There was a strong undertone to the smoke and soot: he recognised the source as petrol, remembering the can he’d tripped over the night before. Could it have been pure bad luck – an unprovoked arson attack? No. With everything that had happened, lately, there was no way this was random. It had to have been Maxwell. But then he’d been killed. The police must have got when that happened wrong. Was the murder retribution for setting the fire? Lily couldn’t have done anything like that … Could she? Sebastian felt cold. Had Maxwell finally pushed Lily too far…?
Sebastian took a quick look around. The family from the icecream parlour was nowhere in sight; neither were there any police – just their yellow tape blowing in the breeze. It was late in the evening now; the authorities would not be back until tomorrow. Even so, he did not want to linger.
He gritted his teeth and, stared at the flat roof just below Denny’s bedroom. He could see the glass to the window was broken there, now; it was replaced with a yellow ‘X’ of tape. With some effort, he was sure he could make it up there. He abandoned the flip-flops, letting them fall from his feet, then he placed a bare foot against the sill of the window of the empty downstairs flat and pushed himself up.
His ribs protested, but Sebastian finally made it onto the flat roof. He collapsed onto gritty roofing felt, then rolled over and lay there a moment, breathing through the pain that wracked his entire body. Wobbly and light-headed, he stood, resting his palms on his knees. He felt a hundred years old and the back of his head throbbed. Very gingerly, he fed one leg and then the other through the broken window, anxious about cutting his bare feet on more glass. To his surprise, there was very little of it on the other side. Whoever had broken this window had done it carefully.