‘I’m not his girlfriend. In fact, I was never his girlfriend and he definitely wasn’t with me last Friday night.’
Lorelei Fosse picked up her gym bag, threw it into the boot and slammed it shut. She pulled her designer sunglasses over her eyes and leaned against her car. Ramouter squinted at her in the sunlight. They stood in the car park of a high-priced gym in East Dulwich. Chance Blaine was seriously punching above his weight. Everything about Lorelei screamed potential reality TV star.
‘You say that he wasn’t your boyfriend?’ he asked.
‘Never. I didn’t even change my relationship status on Facebook. I met him about a month ago in a pub in Borough Market. We saw each for a few months and then he blocked me.’
‘He blocked you?’
‘Yep. Can you believe it? I caught him with another woman and he’s the one who blocks me.’
‘When was this?’
‘God, about three weeks ago. I was randomly driving along Lewisham High Street; I was going to see my nan and I stopped at the traffic lights opposite the hospital and there he was with some girl. He was talking to her and then he went down the side road with her. Arm in arm they were.’
‘Can you describe her? This woman.’
Lorelei played with her ponytail as she thought back. ‘Black. In her twenties maybe. I didn’t see her face clearly. She had long braids.’
Ramouter pulled out his phone and brought up a newspaper article. He enlarged the photograph of Zoe Darego. ‘Was this the woman you saw with Chance Blaine?’
Lorelei took the phone and inspected the photograph for a few seconds, then handed it back. ‘Sorry. It could be, but to be honest, I didn’t really get a close look at her.’
‘That’s fine. Thanks for your help.’
‘You’re welcome. Why are you asking about her anyway?’
‘She was murdered.’
The colour drained from Lorelei’s face as she put her hands to her throat. ‘Did he do it? I wouldn’t be surprised. He was into all kinds of kinky shit.’