My fingers fly to my butterfly brooch.
“I’ve remembered how I knew it was a man and not a woman sitting at that seat. It just came back to me a few moments ago.”
“Oh right. Go on….”
Breathe in. Pause.
Breathe out.
“Well, whoever it was had obviously been to Starbucks next door before coming into the library, because he had one of their cups. I remember looking at it and wishing I could go and get one of their smoothies. You know, the one with the strawberries, banana and whipped cream in it?”
Hurry up and get to the point.
“Su-Yin, what did you remember?”
“Oh, sorry. This whole thing is making me nervous and I always talk too much when I’m nervous. I’ll get back to the point, which is, Starbucks write the name on the cup, don’t they?”
My pulse quickens.
“I remember now that I saw the name written on the side of the cup in black pen and it was definitely a man’s name. So, that’s how I knew.”
I dig my fingernails into my palms so hard it makes small semicircle patterns in the flesh. “Can you remember the name? Was it Dominic?”
My heartbeat pulses in my ears as I wait for her answer.
“No. It definitely wasn’t Dominic.”
“Oh.” I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding. “What was it then?”
She sighs. “I can’t remember. I’ve been trying to jog my memory but all I can remember is that it was definitely a man’s name. I’m sorry. I know it’s not what you want to hear.”
“Su-Yin, listen, I hate to put pressure on you, but I really, really need you to remember that name. it’s important.”
“I know. I understand. It’s because of your father. I haven’t thought about anything else since I saw you on Friday. When I remembered about the name on the cup, I was so excited I wanted to call you right away. I’m so sorry I can’t pin down the name from memory. I keep wanting to say a royal name, like William, you know, as in your Prince William, but I know that’s not right.”
I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose.
“Oh, wait.” She draws in a long breath. “Oh, Emily, it’s just come back to me.” Her voice turns so shrill I hold the phone away from my cheek so she doesn’t burst an eardrum. “I can see it in my mind now, exactly how it was written on the cup.”
“What was it, Su-Yin?”
“I knew it wasn’t William, but I was in the right ball park. It was the other one. You know,
his brother … Harry.”
Harrie?
Chapter 30
The hairs on my arms stand on end. I can see Harriet through the doorway, sitting on the sofa, sipping her coffee.
I drop my voice to a whisper. “Are you absolutely sure?”
“Yes, it definitely said Harry. No doubt in my mind.”
“Do you remember the spelling?”
“Yes, it was H-A-R-R-I-E.”
Breathe in. Pause.
Breathe out.
“Emily, I hope this helps and you manage to find out who murdered your father.”
My stomach churns. “Yes. I’m sure it will. Thank you.”
Harriet turns to look at me. She must see something in my expression because she suspends her coffee cup mid-air, pulls her chin back and frowns.
“Thank you, Su-Yin,” I say quietly. “I’ll be in touch.” I cut the call off with a trembling hand and drop my phone onto the bed. Sweat trickles down my spine and I blow out a deep breath to try and calm myself.
“Your coffee’s getting cold,” Harriet calls out.
I look at my watch. Nate and Riley won’t be back for at least an hour. I squeeze my lips into something resembling a smile and walk back through to the living area. I sit down and pick up my mug, but my hand trembles so much I have to put it back down again.
Harriet looks from my hand to my face. “Is everything alright, Em?”
“Yes, of course.” I blow out another controlled breath. “Everything’s fine.”
Her face is still pinched in a frown. “Who was that on the phone?”
I know I need to play this carefully, but I haven’t had any time to figure out how. “Uh … no one interesting. It was a business call. For the café.” I sit on my hands to try and stop them shaking.
“Oh, so you’re taking business calls on your cell phone now? My little sister, the business mogul.”
I manage a strange sounding laugh. “Something like that.” My mouth has gone dry and I lick my lips to try and stop them sticking together.
“Tell me what it was about then.”
I shake my head. “I wouldn’t want to bore you with the details.”
She tilts her head to one side. “I could always read you like a book, Em.” Then her smile falls away. “So I know when you’re lying.”
I stare at her, the proverbial rabbit caught in the headlights.
“Just tell me what they said. Whatever it was, it’s had quite an impact on you.”
I shake my head. “I’m fine, honest. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Let me spell it out for you then.” Her eyes tighten. “I think that call was something to do with Mike’s murder case. I think you’ve been given the name of a different suspect and you’re torn because you don’t want that person to be guilty.”
I force a painful swallow. “And who do you think the new suspect is?”
“I’m guessing it’s me.”
My heart thuds against my ribcage and I know there’s no point continuing this charade. I clasp my hands together. “Okay, something has come to light that suggests you were the one who accessed my bank account, the one I used to share with Dad. but I’m having trouble believing it. And anyway, even if it was you, it doesn’t prove you had anything to do with hiring the hitman….”
She laughs. Not the yelling in my face response I expected. A big part of me hopes it’s because the idea is ridiculous and she’s completely innocent.
“I didn’t hire anyone,” she says simply.
I blow out a deep breath. “You’re denying it?”
“Yes, I’m denying it. What makes you think I would hire a hitman?”
“I don’t. It’s just the police originally thought whoever had been accessing that bank account was implicated in his murder. Timing and location or something. I don’t really understand.”
“What made someone think it was me accessing that account?”
I press a cool palm to my forehead. “The person in the library who used that computer at the relevant time had a Starbucks cup.”
“So….”
“With the name Harrie on it. Spelt the way you spell it.”
Her brow creases. “Seriously?” She closes her eyes and bangs her fist against her forehead. “Stupid, stupid.”
My eyes stay glued to her. I’m desperately trying to work out whether she’s guilty or just horrified that I could believe she’s capable of murder?
She makes a funny sound, halfway between a laugh and a cough. Then she opens her eyes and shakes her head softly.
“So, are you going to admit it was you who hired the hitman?” I ask. My stomach tightens as I brace myself for her answer.
“You really are stuck on the whole hiring of the hitman thing, aren’t you?” Her eyes bore into mine as her words slice through me. “I mean, why would I hire a hitman when I’m perfectly capable of killing him myself?”
The world tilts and I hold onto the arm of the sofa for support. “I-it can’t have been you. You’re terrified of flying.” A huge part of me is still in denial.
“Flying doesn’t bother me,” she says matter-of-factly. “I just needed to throw people off the scent.”
“You actually killed him?” I whisper.
She lifts her chin and nods.
“That was you … in the house?” I breathe. “It wasn’t a man – it was you?” My hand reaches for my scar.
Her face falls as she watches my hand. �
��Oh God, Em, you have to believe I never meant to hurt you.” She drops down onto her knees in front of me. “But you weren’t going to let me get past and I couldn’t let you see it was me. I thought if I just gave you a little scratch … I didn’t realise I’d cut you that bad….” She reaches out for my arm. “I am so sorry.”
I snatch my arm from her and narrow my eyes. “You’re apologising for my scar?”
She nods, her eyes sincere.
I take a deep breath, but it does nothing to calm me down. “Who gives a damn about a stupid fucking scar.”
“Me.” Her eyes fill with tears. “I hate that I did that to you.”
I shake my head in frustration. “What about what you did to Dad?” I can’t see straight, I’m so angry. “A scar is nothing in comparison to what you did to him.”
She speaks slowly. “Em, you need to realise I did it for you.” She purses her lips and blows out a deep breath. “I know you’ll forgive me when you hear why I did it because it was for a good reason.”
“Don’t kid yourself you did this for me.” I spit the words out and stand up. “You did not do this for me.”
“Wait, Em … you have to listen to me. You owe me that much.”
“You took everything from me that day. I owe you nothing.”
Tears are running down her face. “Em, please don’t leave. I need you to understand why I did it.”
And what I need to do is punch her in her stupid face.
“I can’t listen to any more of your crap, Harriet.” As far as I’m concerned, she needs locking up and the key throwing away. I have to get out of here and phone Ramirez - tell him what I know.
I step forward and reach for the door handle but before I can turn it, pain explodes at the back of my skull.
Chapter 31
A dull throb towards the back of my head wakes me. I open my eyes but it’s dark and I have no idea where I am or how I got here. Nausea floats over me and my top is sticking to the sweat on my chest. I raise a hand to where the pain is most prominent and find something wet and sticky coating my hair.
Blood?
And then it all comes crashing back.
Harriet killed Dad.
I spring into a sitting position which makes my head thump wildly. I’m breathing too fast and pins and needles prick my fingers.
I can’t have a panic attack. Not here. Not now.
Breathe in. Pause.
Breathe out.
Breathe in. Pause.
Breathe out.
My heart is racing but I don’t move until the pain in my head recedes back to a throb. Then I take a deep breath, lean on the wall and stand up slowly. As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I make out the shape of jackets, boxes and books.
She’s shut me in the cupboard.
Breathe in. Pause.
Breathe out.
I reach for the door handle, pulling it down as quietly as I can, but it won’t budge. I try again, pressing my shoulder against the door at the same time, but there’s no way that door’s opening. I’m guessing a chair or something has been wedged against the other side.
I hear movement outside and freeze.
“Em, are you okay in there?” Harriet’s voice wobbles. “I’m in bits out here. I need to make sure you’re alright, but I can’t open the door until I know you won’t talk to anyone.”
Is she serious?
“Em, please say something. I need to hear you speak so I know you’re okay.”
There is nothing I want to say to her.
She sighs. “Well you tried to open the door, so I’m going to assume you’re okay and you can hear me. I know you’re upset with me, because of Mike, but I have to make you understand I did it with the best intentions.”
My hands curl into fists by my sides.
“I’m sorry I hurt you just now. It was the last thing I wanted to do, but I couldn’t just let you leave. Not until you hear me out. I know when you hear my side of the story, you’ll see it makes sense.”
Breathe in. Pause.
Breathe out.
“You know what? I’m actually glad you found out, because I don’t like keeping secrets from you. Everything I did was for you. You need to remember that….”
I need to try and shut out her words or I’ll go insane. My eyes have adjusted to the darkness now so I look around to see if I can figure out a way to get out of here in one piece. I decide to look inside the boxes; see if there’s anything I can use as a weapon. I carefully lift the lid off the top one and scan inside for anything sharp or heavy.
“Mom doesn’t know about any of this,” Harriet says conspiratorially “She’s too fragile so we can’t tell her, okay? We have to keep this between ourselves….”
What the hell? Does she honestly think I’m going to be her ally in this? Listening to her is torture but I haven’t got the luxury of stopping and pressing my hands against my ears. I carry on searching for anything that might help me fight my way out of here. The first box turns out to be all books so I grip the handles and gently lift it onto the floor. The effort brings a splintering pain to my head and a small cry escapes my lips.
“Em? Are you alright in there?”
I stand still and breathe deeply, waiting for the pain to dull down again.
“I wish you’d say something to me….”
The familiar sound of my ringtone jumps to life somewhere close and I turn my head in that direction.
“Oh, let me just answer that for you. Don’t go anywhere.”
As if I have a choice.
I press my ear to the door and listen to her footsteps getting quieter before she takes the call.
“Hello….”
I don’t breathe, I just listen.
“Oh, hi, Nate.” Her voice sounds unnaturally high. “No, Emily’s busy right now. Shall I get her to call….”
“Nate!” I scream his name as loud as I can, ignoring the violent thumping in my head.
Please let him hear me.
I bang my fists so hard on the cupboard door I half-expect to break through. “Nate, help me!”
I hold my breath and press my ear back to the door, but Harriet’s voice is muffled and I realise she must have shut the bedroom door. My heart sinks.
I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment, but I know feeling defeated won’t get me anywhere so I snap myself out of it and get back to searching inside the box.
It’s not long before I hear the soft pad of her footsteps and then a dull thud as she drops down onto the floor outside.
“That was out of order,” she says, her words all spiky. “You haven’t even heard me out yet.”
Nothing you say is going to change the way I feel.
“Nate wouldn’t have been able to hear you, but I’m pissed with you for trying.”
She’s pissed with me? She’s unbelievable.
“Anyway, Nate was ringing to say the car’s broken down so they’re going to be delayed a while. Which is great news as far as I’m concerned, because now we have time on our side.”
I bite the inside of my cheek hard and blink back tears. Then I mentally shake myself. Stop being so weak, Emily.
“At least I know you’re listening. I don’t like keeping you locked up in there, but I need you to hear my reasons for killing Mike. The only way you’re going to understand why I did what I did, is if you actually sit and listen.”
My fingers brush against something cold and smooth in the box. My heart lifts. I take out the object and squint at the shape through the dim light. It’s a cup on a pedestal with two handles; some kind of sports trophy. And it’s heavy. Perfect. I wrap my fingers around it, stand up straight, hold it by my side and then force deep slow breaths, waiting for the moment she opens the door.
“So, as you already know, I didn’t want to leave London. Well, I didn’t care about London to be honest, but I didn’t want to leave you. And Mom didn’t either. But Mike had other ideas, didn’t he?” Her voice becomes strained. “I mean, seriously, Em, who d
id he think he was? What made him think he had the right to separate a daughter from her mother, and a sister from her sister? I hated him after that, Em. I really, really hated him.”
A wave of dizziness hits me. I look at the trophy in my hand and see two of them. That can’t be good. I blink a couple of times and the trophies merge back into one. I purse my lips and blow out a shaky breath.
“Oh, I need to confess to a little white lie I told you. I might have said I didn’t know I was coming to live over here, but I did. Mom told me a couple of weeks before we left. She swore me to secrecy and said if I played by her rules, you’d eventually join us. She said Mike would realise he couldn’t handle bringing up a daughter on his own. But I knew I couldn’t rely on her judgement, so I helped the situation along a bit. I’m only telling you this because I want you to know how hard I tried to get you over here, Em.”
I will never forgive you, Harriet, for as long as I live.
“I got hold of a load of Visine eye drops. I’d read about a woman using them to kill her husband the year before. Some chemical in there can be deadly if you drink the right amount. I still remember the name of it; tetrahydrozoline. I thought it was going to be the answer to my prayers. Every time I made Mike a cup of tea, I’d tip loads in. I’m surprised he didn’t notice the taste. He used to get all teary-eyed whenever I offered him a drink. He thought I was being nice because I didn’t want to leave him, and there I was trying to poison him. I almost felt bad for him a couple of times.”
Acid burns my throat and I feel like I might puke. I can’t work out if it’s because of what she’s saying, or because my head is throbbing and I can’t seem to focus anymore.
“No matter how many drops I put in his tea, it didn’t kill him. It made him ill though. That’s when all his health problems started.”
My knees feel like they’re about to give way. Still gripping the trophy in one hand, I drop down to a sitting position, place my arm across my knees and rest my head on it.
“Luckily his doctor thought the high blood pressure, nausea and indigestion were down to stress because of what was going on at the time. I’m not proud that I did that to him. You need to know that, Em. I’m not a bad person so I didn’t enjoy seeing him suffer. I just needed him to hurry up and die so you could come and live with us. Before we left I put loads of Visine into the Pepto-Bismol bottle he kept by the side of his bed and his spare one in the medicine cabinet. And then I added it to all his bottles of spirits. Anything liquid I knew you wouldn’t touch. It was enough to keep him ill, but not enough to kill him, unfortunately. Anyway, I wanted you to know how hard I tried to get you over here.”
The Cold Hard Truth: A Gripping Novel About Secrets and Lies Page 18