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Up to now, Adele had managed to convince herself that last weekend’s events were behind her. Now she had to go over it all, including why she didn’t go to the police at the outset, in painstaking detail.
She was interviewed by kind-looking Detective Inspector Taylor, flanked by a female detective, DC Aldridge. She took Adele through the events of Friday night at the club, on the way home, and then the morning after. The memories surged forwards. Waking to the horror of seeing the marks on her body. The realisation of what happened.
The marks had mostly faded, but the bites were still visible on Adele’s throat, and she tugged down her collar to show the officers.
They took copious notes, though the tape machine was running throughout. DC Aldridge sat back, looked at DI Taylor, and then it was his turn.
His questions revolved around Karl. Had she seen him get angry? Was he physically fit? Did he associate much with Jason at work? Outside work? How did Karl react when she accused him of attacking her?
There were questions about her relationship with Nick, and she stumbled over her answers. How much could she say?
She told them Nick stayed in her apartment the other weekend, on the night she’d been dancing with Dimitri, when Jason took home the mystery brunette. “Nick slept on my sofa. He’s a friend, nothing more.”
DI Taylor quirked his eyebrows. “You sound very defensive.”
“I don’t want you jumping to assumptions.”
“He sounds like a good friend. Karl thought you would trust him.”
On and on it went. She couldn’t figure out if they suspected Karl or Nick—though he was in Paris at the time—or if they were trying to cast her as a slapper who deserved what happened.
It was past one in the morning when she finally went back to her apartment, tearful and exhausted. After she locked the door and shoved a stool in front of it for good measure, she sent Nick a text.
I know it’s late, but are you awake? I just got home from the police.
Maybe an hour later, he replied.
Me too. Just got home. What the fuck is going on? Are you ok?
She longed to hear his voice. Sleeping alone for the first time in days was going to be hard enough, but after the questions from the police, she was beyond agitated.
Can we talk? Don’t want to disturb Lara.
His reply was quick.
Give me half an hour. I’ll call you.
By the time he phoned, she was curled up in bed, a large glass of vodka and tonic in her hand. Sleep was light years away.
“Lara went to bed,” said Nick, his voice low. “She was questioned all afternoon, by the sound of it. She freaked out when they took me in, but she’s asleep now.”
Adele heard the sound of him dragging on a cigarette and managed a wobbly smile. “I thought you weren’t allowed to smoke at home?”
“I’m supposed to have given up. I’m in the kitchen, with the back door open. It’s fucking freezing.”
She pictured him standing there, and remembered the Gauloises they smoked together. It would be easy to become dependent on Nick, but she couldn’t.
“They kept going on and on about our relationship,” she said. “I told them you stayed over those two nights. I’m not sure if they believed me that you slept on the sofa.”
“Bugger. I didn’t mention that. Oh well. If they ask again, I’ll say I forgot.” He took another drag and exhaled noisily. “What I don’t understand is what they think I’ve done. Do they think I leapt on a flight back here, pushed Jason under the train, and then returned to Paris without anyone noticing?”
“I’m your alibi for Tuesday night.”
“Yeah, but we’re not talking about that.”
He didn’t want Lara to know, but if it came to Nick being a suspect, Adele would have no qualms about speaking up for him.
“I’d better go to bed,” said Nick, and she heard a muffled yawn. “Will you be okay tonight?”
She wanted to cling to the phone and keep him talking. “I’ll be fine.”
“Yeah.” He didn’t sound convinced, and she disconnected before she could plead with him to stay on the line.
“I’m strong,” she whispered. “I’ll get through this.” Or not. It should be harder to lie to herself.
****
Sylvie was heavily asleep when Alex awoke on Saturday morning. He didn’t recall her waking in the night, which was good. He hoped the police visit would be nothing more than a formality. Sylvie was fretting enough about everything else without worrying about this too.
He woke her later, and they showered together. She was subdued again. When he kissed her, he got the feeling she was going through the motions. Where was the Sylvie he fell in love with? The vibrant girl who ran circles around him? He needed to know what was troubling her.
What if she didn’t like this life they’d made? The life with him?
No. He was an idiot to think like that. She was stressed. They both were.
When the police finished, he’d grab some time to be alone with her, and he’d get to the heart of it.
Decision made, he looked at her in the bathroom mirror and found her staring vacantly at her reflection.
He stepped up to her and cuddled her from behind. “You look gorgeous, babe. Always do.”
She shook herself and met his gaze in the glass. “I’ve got this horrid taste in my mouth. I’ve brushed my teeth twice, but I can’t get rid of it.”
“Too much coffee. I’ve never seen you drink so much.”
She turned to face him and nestled into his arms. “I’m fine. I guess I need a few more nights of decent sleep.”
“Cut back on the caffeine. It’s not healthy.”
She made a clicking noise with her tongue. “Don’t fuss, Alex.” Before he could say anything else, she wriggled free and strode into the bedroom, banging the door behind her.
Alex spent much of the past fifteen years avoiding the attention of the police. He was nailed a few times for possession, although his legal team always managed to get the charges quashed, and the idea of inviting officers to his home felt wrong. He didn’t trust them.
The two detectives introduced themselves as DS Cooper and DC Mackenzie. With their short haircuts and sharp suits, they looked more like lawyers—another profession Alex mistrusted.
They’d promised to keep this an informal chat with Sylvie, and that meant he could sit with her while they talked. He led them into the kitchen where Sylvie waited.
“I’m Sylvie Hamilton. Did you really need to come all this way to ask me a few questions?” Her voice was sharp, and Alex hid a smile. It was good to see her back on form.
“Would you like to sit down?” Alex gestured towards the chairs around the table, and the cops accepted.
“We felt it necessary, Mrs. Hamilton, otherwise we wouldn’t be here.” DS Cooper remained calm, as he pulled a notebook out of his pocket and flicked through it. “Nice place you have here.” He smiled, but her face remained stony.
Alex leaned against the sink, from where he could watch the proceedings.
“We’d like to talk to you about last Tuesday.” DC Mackenzie had a Scottish burr to his voice. “Can you please tell us what you were doing in London?”
“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.