Constance would be lying if she didn’t admit to some reluctance associated with visiting Zoe at home. Perhaps surprisingly, it wasn’t because of Zoe’s admission that she had seen Brett’s ghost. As she had said to Judith, although she was a pragmatic person, she could not totally disregard the value of spirituality. No, it was more that Zoe had communicated this perceived need to speak to her rather than anyone else, and she worried where it might end. Perhaps Zoe would find her inadequate and make a formal complaint or, worse still, would want to continue the relationship after the case was over.
With all those thoughts bothering her, she rang the buzzer of Zoe’s apartment and climbed the stairs to the second floor.
‘Right on time,’ Zoe said, gripping her arm and pulling her inside. ‘I knew you would be.’
Constance entered a modern, neatly-kept flat and Zoe led her through to the one living room and promptly sat down on the sofa. There was no other seating, so Constance sat next to her.
‘You said you had something to show me,’ she began.
‘I’m good at seeing things,’ Zoe said. ‘That’s why I knew Brett was ill, even before he collapsed.’
‘You knew Brett was ill. How?’
‘Little things, you know. He was holding on to his stomach, he was making faces like he had pain somewhere. And I got this tingling in my fingers, so I knew it was bad. That’s how it usually happens. No one else saw – just me.’
‘Sounds like you’re very perceptive.’
Zoe was silent for a moment and Constance sensed she was making a decision about how much to share.
‘Your lady lawyer, who asked the questions, she asked about me taking pictures on my phone.’
‘Yes. I’m sorry about that. I can see that…’
‘I took a video too.’
‘A video?’
‘At the end. It was supposed to be of the speeches, you know? Brett said it was OK. But then…’
‘Can I see it?’
Zoe hesitated again.
‘That’s why you invited me, isn’t it?’ Constance said. ‘To show me?’
Zoe remained silent and Constance wondered if she should remind her that Brett had wanted her to share the video. She suspected Judith might have done so but for Constance that felt like a step too far. Instead, she folded her hands in her lap, fixed her eyes on Zoe and waited. And this time she was rewarded.
After a moment, Zoe removed her phone from her pocket, scrolled through some screens, pressed ‘play’ and handed it to Constance. Constance watched the video through once and then a second time. Zoe sat quietly next to her.
‘Have you shown this to anyone else?’ Constance asked.
Zoe shook her head. ‘I was going to at the beginning. But Brett said I shouldn’t. Or that was what I thought. But now I’m not sure. He’s been here every night since the trial started. I think he wants you to have it. Can you use it?’
Constance was silent. It appeared she couldn’t avoid addressing the ‘seeing Brett’s ghost’ issue after all, as clearly Zoe wanted to talk more about it.
‘I know what happens when a soul is in torment,’ Zoe explained. ‘It happened with my nan. She haunted us for weeks, banging cupboards, turning on the kitchen tap, knocking over the cat’s bowl, until we discovered that the cleaner had stolen her favourite brooch. My mum saw her wearing it in Asda. She denied it, naturellement, but she gave it back, and the minute we returned it to Nan’s jewellery box, everything stopped.’
Constance’s expression remained calm. She didn’t mock. ‘I see,’ she said. ‘You think that giving me the video will…put his mind at rest?’
Zoe nodded and Constance focused on the video again. She knew it had no value on the key defence issue of what Nick knew about Brett’s allergy. And playing the film would evoke sympathy for the prosecution, which was one of the reasons Andy had played the Heart Foods’ version in court. But this video covered so much more and, most of the time, in close-up – Zoe had zoomed in on the action – and the more Constance reflected on those details, the more she felt sure it would be useful. One thing she was certain of was that Judith would want to see it.
She heard a ping on her phone. ‘You want it, don’t you?’ Zoe asked.
Constance nodded. ‘I knew you did. I’ve just sent it to you,’ she said.
Constance checked her phone. ‘Can I ask you something else,’ she said, ‘about the other panellists?’
‘Sure.’
‘I just wondered how you’d all been selected in the first place. Did you know each other?’
‘It was just like I said in court,’ Zoe said. ‘Brett liked my blog. I suppose he liked things the others did too. I hadn’t met any of them before. But we were going to make a film together.’
‘A film?’
‘That’s why the cameraman was there.’
‘Of course. Diana mentioned it.’
‘I…I don’t know if you need to know this but…Dr Edge wanted us to make the film anyway.’
‘Did he?’
‘He messaged us afterwards, set up a call on Zoom, even though everyone knows Teams is heaps better.’
‘And what happened on this Zoom call?’
Zoe shrugged. ‘Sue just went mute, Mark didn’t hang around – said he had better things to do – and Rosa got really cross.’
‘Why did Rosa get cross?’
‘It was a while ago. You should ask her. It’s hard to explain. I think…Adrian started off asking us to do the film, like I said, “Brett tribute band” kind of thing. Mark didn’t believe him. Then Rosa started saying stuff in Spanish. She got angry, said Adrian wanted the film for himself.’
‘Why did she think that?’
Zoe bit down on her bottom lip, engrossed in thought. Then she smiled. ‘I’ve remembered. He said this stuff about “confidentiality” – that he had an idea, but his lawyers said we all had to sign something before he could tell us. I couldn’t see the problem, but Rosa didn’t like it one bit.’
‘You don’t have a recording, of the Zoom call?’
‘No. Not this time. Couldn’t see the point. I’ve probably got the invitation still. I’ll send that on.’
Constance rose to leave. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘You’ve been very helpful, but I need to get back to court.’ Then, her good heart intervening, she looked around the room and then back at Zoe. ‘Are you going to be OK?’
Zoe laughed. ‘I feel better already,’ she said. ‘This is what Brett wants. It will all be fine now.’
As Constance stepped forward, she trod on something small and hard on the floor and almost turned her ankle. She bent down and picked up the offending item - a scrabble piece. She handed it to Zoe. ‘Here you go,’ she said. ‘Are you any good?’
Zoe looked confused.
‘At Scrabble,’ Constance added.
Zoe laughed again. ‘I’ve never tried,’ she said. ‘Doesn’t it take, like, hours to play?’
‘Depends how good you are.’
Constance was almost at the door when Zoe called her back. She was turning the tile around in the palm of one hand and rubbing at her neck with the other.
‘Wait,’ she said. ‘I…I think he wants you to see this too. I thought he might. That’s why I kept it.’
Zoe walked towards the window where a low coffee table sat, with a tea towel draped over it. Constance followed her. Zoe gave her an apologetic look over her shoulder. Then she removed the tea towel with a quick tug, like a magician revealing the disappearance of an assistant. Except on this occasion, there was something to see; a small pouch with a drawstring, to one side of the scrabble board on which six letters were laid out, horizontally, across its centre.
Constance read the words aloud. ‘The Boy,’ she said.