The Suspects

by Katharine Johnson

  “Where are you going?” he asked Rick.

  Rick didn’t reply. He was leaving and there was nothing we could do about it. We’d lost control of the situation. If only there was something, anything, we could do to stop him.

  “Wait,” said Xanthe. “What were you doing in my room just now?”

  He laughed and tried to deny it. “I wasn’t in your room.”

  “Yes, you were. Imogen’s room’s above Stuart’s but we could hear you right above our heads.”

  He stopped and turned. He continued to deny it, but he was starting to look rattled.

  “You were looking for something. It wasn’t a backpack by any chance?”

  I felt all my energy drain away. What was she thinking? Now we were surrendering information he might not have had in the first place.

  “Of course not.” I could have sworn his face flushed.

  “Liar,” she said. “The reason you haven’t gone to the police isn’t because you wanted to help Imogen - you just wanted to save your own skin. Why don’t you tell us that you knew Oskar before the party?”

  Our heads flicked back to Rick. A strangled laugh escaped him. His face was white mottled with pink now and his eyes filled with a strange light. “Because I didn’t.”

  “Really? You mean you don’t remember bribing him to lie in court?”

  I had no idea where Xanthe was getting this from or whether she was just feeling her way and I could see Zak and Stuart were as surprised as I was, but it seemed best to let her carry on.

  “Oskar wasn’t a stranger to you, was he? He came to the party to see you.”

  “No, you’re mad, you’ve got that wrong.” Rick looked around the rest of us, appealing for sympathy but the look of alarm was unmistakable and all he got in return was stony looks. I think he could see it was useless.

  “He came to the party because you promised him money. Just like the last time. What did he have to do for it this time?”

  Stuart, who had thrust out a restraining hand to stop Xanthe, dropped it and stared at Rick. Zak moved in front of the door and stood there with his arms folded.

  “Is there something you’re not telling us?”

  He cast a look back at Xanthe as though to say, “I hope you’ve got your facts right.” Her eyes flickered with energy.

  “Perhaps it isn’t us who should be careful,” she said. “Perhaps it’s you – Fitz.”

  “Hang on, you’ve lost me,” said Stuart.

  “Rick isn’t just short for Richard,” said Xanthe, shaking her hair back. “It can be short for lots of things. Like Erik, Warrick, Leofric…”

  “Yorrick,” said Stuart.

  “Baldric?” I suggested.

  “Yes. But in this case it’s short for Fitzpatrick. Isn’t that right?”

  In the space of a few moments everything had turned. Now Rick was the one on the defensive and we were the ones demanding answers.

  “All this time you’ve been acting as though we were the guilty ones,” said Zak. “Is that what this is about? You wanted us to take the blame for what you did?”

  “I didn’t do anything,” Rick protested. “I met Bramley, yes. I agreed to lend him some money. That’s all. We’d been good friends once – we were at school together. But we were caught with cocaine. He got thrown out after I confessed, I was allowed to stay on. Our lives took very different paths. He got in touch out of the blue a few months ago. I couldn’t turn my back on him. I felt sorry for him – the way things had turned out. After I gave him the money I went back to the party. Whatever happened to him afterwards has nothing to do with me.”

  “You’ll have a hard time convincing a jury of that,” Zak said.

  There was a moment when I thought Rick might run at the door and a moment when I thought he might hit Zak. But in the end, he said,

  “I only wanted to help him get back on his feet.”

  Zak scoffed at the poor choice of words. “That’s just it, though, isn’t it? He never did get back on his feet, did he? You killed him, didn’t you?”

  “Of course I didn’t. Absolutely not.” All the colour seemed to have drained from Rick’s face. “I promise you he was alive when I left him. I didn’t lay a finger on him.”

  The air was charged with suspicion and disbelief.

  Stuart’s face was white and dangerous. “You’d better tell us what happened.”

  Rick evidently hadn’t anticipated this turn of events. We were all fuming at how close we’d come to thinking this was all about us when in fact he had been trying to save himself. His voice was quieter than usual, and you could see the tension in his hand when he went to push his hair back.

  Sweat shone on his forehead. “I didn’t touch him. Come on, think about it - I was only with him a few minutes. The time it would have taken to go to the toilet and get another drink. I went straight back to Imogen afterwards. Don’t you think she’d have noticed something different about me if I’d just killed someone?”

  He stopped as though something had just occurred to him or he’d just remembered it. “And I’m not the only one who knew Oskar, am I?”

  He pointed his chin at Xanthe who looked down at her knees. Her hair curtained her face but her hands were shaking. I inhaled until I thought my lungs would burst.

  “I didn’t hurt him,” she insisted. “All I did was put him in touch with you, Rick. What you did was much worse. I had no idea he’d come to the house – or that it would lead to this.”

  “Why in the world didn’t you tell us you knew him?” Stuart demanded.

  Xanthe turned her large green eyes on him. “Because what would you have thought? You’d have jumped to the wrong conclusion.”

  “Would we? Or the right one?

  She clutched her head in her hands. “He was in the squat. After we were evicted we had nowhere to go. We were practically starving. But while he was on the streets Oskar was questioned about a murder case. Someone offered him money to lie in court about something he’d seen – a man’s coming and goings from a flat across the road from where Oskar used to sleep. It was a lot of money – enough for us to pay a deposit and the first month’s rent on a room somewhere.

  “Those few weeks gave us the chance to sort ourselves out. Oskar got cleaned up and got a job. And I signed up for college, and from there I got a place on the training scheme.

  “Oskar had been in trouble a few times, so he didn’t have much faith in the justice system and he was quite happy to help someone put two fingers up at the judge. But he only went along with it because they convinced him the man was guilty.”

  She turned to Rick. “But you didn’t care, did you? It was all a game to you.”

  All the arrogance had drained away as Rick said. “I promise you it wasn’t. I’ve learned from that experience. I wouldn’t do it again.”

  He was still evidently reeling from discovering that Xanthe knew about his past. I was still getting over it myself although I could see why she hadn’t wanted to tell us that she’d known Oskar.

  “It wasn’t my idea,” he said, appealing for our sympathy. “I was the junior, learning the ropes. I didn’t want to rock the boat. It was how they did things. The way it was put to me was that they were a hundred per cent certain the man was guilty and if he got put away, the case would be closed and everyone would be happy. All I had to do was encourage one of the witnesses to make his evidence a bit more compelling – be more precise about the timings. I wasn’t totally comfortable with it to tell the truth, but I wanted to keep my job. I’d worked so hard to get it.”

  He looked round, desperate to make us understand.

  “I’m not sure we care,” said Zak. “Do we care?” We shrugged our indifference but Rick ploughed on anyway.

  “If I’d blown the whistle no one would have believed me, I’d have been dropped from the firm and they’d have made damned sure I wouldn’t be able to get work with anyone else.”

  “So, you paid Oskar Bramley to lie?”

  He look
ed up sharply. “About the timings and some descriptive details, yes. It just proved that the murder could have been committed in the timeframe.”

  “And so you were the golden boy for winning the case,” said Xanthe. “Except you were wrong, weren’t you? That man was innocent. And thanks to you the investigation was closed and the real killer was free to go on and kill Lily Ambrose. Wow. And you thought we were despicable.”

  Rick at least had the decency to blush. “You’ve no idea how bad I feel about it. I believed he was guilty. It was my first big case – it was so important for me to win.”

  “Was it really?” I asked, unable to contain my anger any longer. “More important than a girl’s life?”

  His expression hardened again. “Come on, you know how it works. Lawyers can only do so much. All they do is present the evidence. It’s the jury who decides if a person’s guilty and the judge who passes sentence.”

  “Yes, but in this case the evidence was false,” I pointed out.

  He shut his eyes and nodded. It turned out that after being convicted of killing Lily Ambrose the killer had confessed to the earlier murder and one or two others.

  “Oskar was horrified,” said Xanthe. “He felt partly responsible for Lily’s death and he lived in fear of being picked up by the police and sent down for perjury. It had a huge effect on him, sent him back into that downward spiral. He was looking over his shoulder all the time and injecting himself with all sorts to help him forget. It really messed him up.

  “But he realised the lawyers must be terrified too because if he told the truth they’d all find themselves in prison.”

  “So, Oskar threatened to spill the beans about the bribe?” said Zak.

  Rick nodded. “I had no idea how he’d managed to track me down. He said he wanted more money in return for keeping quiet. A lot more.”

  “And you didn’t see that coming? For God’s sake, I thought lawyers were clever.” He shook his head in disbelief.

  “A common misconception,” said Rick with a pained smile. “I didn’t want him coming anywhere near our offices. I thought it would work best if I met him in a crowded situation like a party where we’d be quite anonymous.”

  “But why would anyone take Oskar’s word against yours?” I asked. “Why didn’t you just take the chance that nobody would believe him about the blackmail? Surely if the worst came to the worst you could get yourself a good lawyer?”

  He shook his head. “There was no chance of that - Bramley had the whole thing on tape.”

  “So you know how that feels,” said Zak with a bitter grin. He turned to Xanthe.

  “When you realised who Rick was you decided to help Oskar get back at him?”

  She shrugged and nodded.

  “For a cut?”

  “Yes. But it wasn’t just about the money. He’d been good to me and I wanted to help him. I told you, I never thought it would lead to this. Honestly, I didn’t. I had no idea Oskar would come to the house.”

  She was looking for assurance that we understood but none of us knew what to think.

  “But none of this explains how Oskar died,” said Stuart. “There’s something you’re not telling us. Which one of you took the back pack?”

  “You know I didn’t,” said Xanthe, her voice full of hurt.

  Our eyes turned to Rick. He looked wretched. “Of course I didn’t. I’d just given him the money. Why would I take it back?”

  No one knew what to say. “Perhaps you changed your mind,” I said.

  “I promise you – I didn’t think anything of it. Just closed the cellar door and came away and rejoined the party. I assumed he’d wait a few minutes and then come out too and go home.”

  “And you spent the rest of the night with Imogen?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’d better hope she backs you if this comes to trial,” said Zak.

  Rick glared at him. “Well, that’s the thing isn’t it? We’d better back each other.”

  I couldn’t believe his arrogance. “We don’t owe you anything. You tried to pressure us into going to the police because you knew there was a good chance we’d get charged with murder.”

  “No, you’re wrong. I just wanted a bit of bargaining power, that’s all. If I’d wanted to I could have gone to the police any time since I heard that recording.”

  “Then what did you want?” I asked. “You know we don’t have any money.”

  A glimmer of hope returned in his eyes. “The house – in return for keeping your secret.”

  Stuart seized him by the throat. “Get out.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  After I’d made the decision to keep the baby I went back up to Scotland for the weekend and broke the news to my parents. They were appalled of course and apoplectic when they realised the father wasn’t going to be around.

  They said – or shouted – a lot of things I really didn’t need to hear like how only stupid girls “got themselves knocked up” at twenty-one, how I’d screwed up my future, thrown away my degree and the career I’d dreamt of since I was eleven.

  Their language instantly regressed a few centuries in line with their antediluvian views. All the old-fashioned words tumbled out – “out of wedlock” “old maid” “on the shelf” “shop-soiled”, “used goods” – even “bastard child”

  My mother came back from the bathroom telling me the effect on her had been “instant diarrhea”. I was genuinely worried my father was going to have a heart attack. The neighbours were used to his outbursts but this one was impressive even for him. I doubt there was anyone in the street who didn’t now know why I’d put on weight.

  My parents asked again and again if I realised how selfish it was to have a child outside marriage. What sort of future could I give him or her? They wanted to know if the father was married, or if I even knew who he was.

  My sister attempted to come to the rescue saying being a single mother wasn’t that unusual anymore but somehow while doing so she came out about her sexual status. They went nuclear. But if they’d had even the faintest idea of what else was going on in my life right then they’d have realised how ridiculous they sounded and how pointless this all was. It made me think about how they would react if they ever found out. Would they cut me off? I couldn’t imagine not being able to speak to them again or being turned away on the doorstep.

  In the end, after we’d all shouted ourselves hoarse, I went out into the garden. It had been raining. The sky was the colour of grubby underpants and everything was dripping but it smelled of sweet grass and wet bark and, well, childhood.

  I had a sudden urge to visit our old Wendy house at the bottom but when I got there I found Jess had beaten me to it. We lay side by side like two Alices in our tiny surroundings, with our feet up on the walls. It felt strange after all those years, remembering ourselves camped out here for sleepovers as children, chewing gum and planning our next adventure.

  “Are you all right?” Jess asked me. “You know what they’re like. It’ll blow over.”

  I grimaced. “It’s not just the baby.”

  She turned to face me. “There’s something else? Worse than getting pregnant?”

  I wanted so much to tell her, but I couldn’t risk it. “I need to know if you’ll help me – if it comes to it.”

  She smiled. “Of course. You know I will.”

  “No, I’m serious. You don’t know what it is yet. This is a big thing. A really huge, horrible thing…”

  She looked at me quizzically. “Nothing’s that bad, surely.” Then seeing my expression, she said, “Or maybe it is. Tell me.”

  “I can’t. But I need to know if you’d have the baby if I’m ever not able to look after her. Or him.”

  Jess laughed. “You’ll manage. Everyone does. Wait. You’re serious, aren’t you?

  “The thing is, I might not be able to look after her. For a while I mean. Or maybe ever. And I don’t want her taken into care.”

  Thinking about it there in that plac
e where we’d spent so much of our childhood with our T-shirts stained with mud and blackberry juice, battle-scarred legs in Wellington boots, guinea pigs lolloping over us, it made it all so much worse.

  Jess propped herself up on her elbow. “That’s not going to happen Em. You’re a bit daft, I grant you, but you’re not a total loon. They won’t take your baby away.”

  Her expression changed. “Or are you ill? Oh my God, how ill?”

  “No, it’s nothing like that. I’m just worried about something.” I was struggling to hold back the tears.

  “All right, so what have you done? What are you not telling me?”

  “I can’t. There are other people involved. I would if I could but please trust me, it’s better if I don’t.”

  “Oh God, it is bad, isn’t it?”

  “I can’t say. I can’t. But I didn’t do it, okay? Whatever they say and however it looks I didn’t do it. At least not the really bad thing. Please remember that. And tell Mum and Dad.”

  She looked alarmed. “Just tell me, is this worse than the firework thing?”

  I shut my eyes. The firework thing – it seemed minor now.

  “Yes. But it’s not how it looks.”

  “Oh my god.”

  I thought back to Stuart trying to confess to me at the party and a new wave of guilt washed over me. He’d needed my approval so badly.

  Jess sighed. “Without you telling me more it’s hard to know what to think. But whatever it is if you say you didn’t do it then I believe you.”

  This was my little sister. When did she get to be so wise? I’d almost not noticed how amazing she was.

  “If it happens,” she said, “which it won’t, but if it does - I’ll take care of the baby for you. I’d love to. And when you come out you can have him or her back. I promise you.”

  “Are you sure? Babies are expensive. And noisy. And messy and time-consuming and they play havoc with your social life.”