Authors: Nicci French
Chapter Forty-one
Maybe it could be all right. Maybe I could get what I had wanted, after all. I had to keep calm, that was the main thing. Very calm. Not a single wrong move. I was scared to open my mouth in case I said something that would trip me up, and I had to force myself to meet anyone’s gaze because I thought they’d be able to see the thoughts that were swarming in my head. I could barely smile or grimace without worrying that it would be my undoing. It was hard to breathe steadily. Footsteps on the stairs made me giddy. Coming to get me. Knock on the door, hand on the shoulder. No solid ground under my feet. No clear view in front of me. But if I could grope my way through the darkness, if I could only keep my balance, I could still get out of this mess.
I had done all this, killed all these women – no, that wasn’t me, not the real me; it wasn’t my fault, just a stupid accident – and each time come away empty-handed. But now Astrid had all that money. I had seen her go upstairs with it. Twenty thousand pounds in cash. Astrid was in my way and Astrid had the money. My head still hurt, but it also felt as if there was an itch inside it that I couldn’t get at. Get rid of Astrid, take the money. But everything was the wrong way round now, because at any minute the police would descend on the house and they’d find the stuff in Miles’s room and I couldn’t blame
another
death on him, could I, not if he was in the police station? Shit, shit, shit. Why hadn’t I thought of that? Find another person as well. Owen. That was it. Serve him right. Get him out of the way. Me and Astrid in Brazil. But even through the wild duststorm of my thoughts I could see that it would be pushing it to try to find another fall-guy as well as Miles. Two killers in one house. No. It wouldn’t do.
Chaos in my mind; chaos in the house. People were packing and crying. Dario was bumping a large cardboard box down the stairs and talking to himself. Pippa was throwing clothes out of her door, until the threshold of her room was strewn with them. I opened my window and pushed my head outside, and I could hear voices filtering towards me from Owen’s room. Astrid was in there. She really shouldn’t do that: it only made me angrier. I couldn’t hear everything, only fragments of their talk. Something about leaving. Something about photographs.
Photographs
. I strained to make out more. Their voices dropped, then rose again. Something about Pippa. That was good. However much time passed, Pippa would always be there, that first lie in the relationship.
The photograph. I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand and swallowed hard. He was going to the police with the photograph, that was it. Everything closing in. I couldn’t breathe. No air left for me. Had to keep calm. Now their voices dropped again. A low murmur. I couldn’t make out the words. Silence. Were they kissing? Touching? Fucking? Were they? Who cared? It didn’t really matter any more. That was all going to come to an end.
Melanie came into the room carrying a mug of tea. Kind, sweet Melanie, sweet enough to make me gag. A look of womanly concern on her face, but she was happy now, I could tell that. She sat beside me on the bed and I buried my face on her shoulder because if I saw her expression of sympathetic tenderness I would have to hit her to make it go away.
‘Here, my love, drink this.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Everyone’s in shock.’
I muttered something. My mind was whirling. Astrid. Money. Brazil. I wanted the money. Anyone would want the money. That was it. She was everyone’s target now. Yes. The hiss in my head subsided, like static being gradually tuned out. Stir up the mud, I thought. Stir up the fear. Make sure everyone else felt the confusion and terror I was feeling now.
‘Come on,’ I said, jumping up from the bed and taking Melanie’s hand.
‘What?’
‘Let’s go downstairs.’
‘But I made you a cup of tea.’
‘I can’t just sit here.’
I pulled her downstairs, meeting Dario coming up. I nodded at him. ‘The police will be here soon,’ I said in a whisper. ‘You’d better be ready. They’ll take your room apart, you know.’
His eyes widened and he stared wildly at me, then ran up the stairs.
Melanie and I went into the kitchen and I sat her at the table. I could hear Miles weeping in his room. Yes, mate, weep. You don’t get it yet.
‘Mel,’ I said loudly.
‘Yes?’
‘Do you understand why I’m so upset?’
‘Of course,’ she said excitedly. ‘You wouldn’t be human if you weren’t shocked by what’s happened. Leah practically lived in this house. And in spite of everyone’s difficulties, she was so full of –’
‘No,’ I said, cutting into her drivel. ‘I mean, do you understand?’
I could hear footsteps coming down the stairs. Just from their light swiftness, I knew it was Astrid.
‘Don’t you get it yet, Mel?’ I continued even louder. ‘They think it’s one of us.’
I heard Astrid come to a halt outside the door. That’s right, my girl. You stay there and listen, the way I want you to. Call yourself free? Nobody’s free. They’re all part of a plan.
‘And that’s not all,’ I went on, over Mel’s wail of protest. ‘That’s why Owen’s packing his bag. That’s why Dario’s running round like a headless chicken. That’s why Miles was throwing up in the bathroom and putting those letters from Leah into the garbage before he’s marched off to the police station. That’s why Astrid looks completely distraught.’
When Astrid finally entered, Mel had her fingers in her ears like a toddler, blocking out what she couldn’t bear to hear. I smiled sadly at Astrid. I was the reluctant truth-teller, the loyal good friend. I was the one who saw what no one else could bear to look at.
The police arrived like an army, some in plain clothes and some in uniform, carrying bags and cameras. My hands weren’t steady so I put an arm round Melanie. My heart pounded so hard that it hurt in my chest. I could feel beads of sweat prickling my forehead and points of light jabbed behind my eyes. It was hard to make sense of the sounds around me, separate them out into words.
‘Could you show us your room, sir?’
He was talking to me. I made myself look at the face that loomed towards me. I nodded gravely. ‘Of course.’
I led him up the stairs, and his footsteps fell heavily behind me. Was I about to find out that I had made some terrible mistake?
‘Here,’ I said. My voice sounded quite natural.
‘Thank you.’
‘I – er – I’ll wait downstairs, shall I? I’m not sure how this kind of thing works.’
A hint of a smile on his stiff face. I left him and went into the kitchen. Astrid was outside with Kamsky. They were standing by her vegetable garden and she was looking up at him with the expression of frankness I knew so well. I watched her. I went on watching her as a police officer strode past me and pushed his way out into the garden. He almost ran towards them. When Kamsky stepped forward to join him, I could see his face tensing. He turned back to Astrid and said something to her, then left her there. For several moments, she didn’t move, but she put her hand against her heart as if it was hurting her. Then she walked towards the kitchen and when she lifted her head her gaze went right through me. As if I wasn’t there at all.
If you can get through a door just as it’s banging shut. If you can find the one gap in the fast-moving traffic and make it to the other side. If you can time it just right. Too soon and you’ll expose yourself. Too late and you’ll be trapped. One moment. I had to get it right.
When the police interviewed me, I could tell they weren’t really interested in me. They didn’t fire questions at me and try to trip me up. They just wanted to know stupidly easy things like my movements yesterday morning. Who had I seen in the house when I returned from my shopping expedition for Melanie? Now, let me think. Hmm. Well, I’d seen Miles. That’s right. Miles. I’d thought it strange that he wasn’t at work. What did he say? Ah, let me think: yes, he had said he knew Leah was going back to her house to get something. I was certain, yes. Was he upset? Oh, yes, Officer, he was very nervous and jumpy indeed. And that was before he heard about Leah’s death? Oh, yes, Officer, even before that he was noticeably agitated. But – sudden frown – why are you asking me that? Surely you can’t think it was Miles? Yes, Officer, I’m afraid Miles had argued with Leah. Absolutely. Yes, I don’t want to betray house confidences, but he seemed obsessed with Astrid.
Out on to the street at last, into the drizzle. Pippa was there already and we sat on the low wall. She put her arm through mine and leaned her head on my shoulder. ‘What a fucking nightmare,’ she said.
‘Yes,’ I said. I kissed the top of her head.
‘Isn’t it horrible when everything you’ve done or said becomes suspicious? I tell you what, I’ll be better at my job after this.’
So she didn’t know yet.
Owen joined us and I could tell he didn’t know either. He stood moodily in front of us, kicking bits of gravel on the pavement, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets. He scowled at Pippa when she reached out a hand, and moved a step backwards, then sat on the wall on the other side of me. She shrugged, stood up and pulled her mobile out of her pocket. Dario reeled out of the police station. His hair stuck up in orange peaks and his face was a chalky white. ‘I wanted to confess,’ he said, ‘just to stop them. To make it all go away. Is there a word for it, feeling guilty for something you didn’t do?’
‘Shut up,’ said Owen, who was rolling himself a cigarette.
‘Right,’ said Dario, as if Owen had given him useful advice. He started pacing up and down, muttering to himself.
Then Astrid arrived. She was pale and the spring had gone out of her step. She sat between me and Owen. Owen passed her the cigarette. I put an arm round her. She let her weight rest on me. Her hair was against my cheek. I could feel her breathing. I could feel the crisp thickness of the cash in her jacket.
‘OK?’ I said.
She just turned and looked at me.
Dario padded towards us. ‘Who are we waiting for?’ he asked.
‘Just Mick and Miles. I’m sure they’ll be out soon.’ I said it casually but Astrid jolted out of my embrace and stared at me, her eyes huge in her face.
‘Don’t you know?’
I looked at everyone else, as if they were the ones performing, not me. Mick walking down the steps towards us. People holding up their hands, shaking their heads in horrified denial, mouths open, weeping and wailing, arms round each other. I was at the centre of it. I got my arms round Astrid before Owen could, and I heard words coming out of my mouth and I thought they were the right words, the ones that wouldn’t be noticed by anyone. Mick was going on about tissue and hairs. I hugged Dario as well, feeling how sharp his bones were and how his flesh was chilly; his breath smelled of garlic. We were all wet from the drizzle. Our clothes clung to us. Raindrops ran down our faces. I said stuff like ‘Miles, Christ!’ and ‘Three women!’ It didn’t really matter. No one was listening to anyone else, we were all tottering around uselessly on the pavement, not knowing what to do next.
Dario suggested going to the pub. That wasn’t good. That wasn’t in my plan. We needed to go our separate ways now. There wasn’t much time. Everyone else thought it was a good idea so of course I agreed and we made our way along the pavement, Astrid pushing her bike. I didn’t feel so well. There was a hissing in my head and my throat was like sandpaper. My eyes ached.
I don’t know what everyone talked about. I could hear the words and I knew how to respond every so often so that it appeared I was part of the frantic emotions that were surging round the group, but I wasn’t. I was thinking. I was waiting. I was feeling the minutes tick by. I was swallowing my nausea. I was stopping myself imagining what would happen if things went wrong.
When we finished our first drinks I offered to get the next round. But I went outside first. I got my penknife out of my pocket and sliced through both of the tyres on Astrid’s bike. You won’t get home on that, Astrid. You’ll have to go a different way. I went back into the heat and the noise and the glaring light, collected the drinks and returned to the table.
Astrid was fumbling inside her jacket. ‘This is probably evidence of some kind,’ she said. ‘Before the police grab it, we should share it out.’
‘No,’ I said, blood pounding in my ears so I could barely hear myself speak. ‘For goodness’ sake, Astrid, people are already looking at us. Don’t flash money around in a place like this.’
I looked round nervously. It seemed a feeble excuse but Astrid nodded. Perhaps it provided reason for them not to let go of each other finally, not to drift apart.
‘I’ll do the maths,’ said Pippa. ‘Then we can arrange to meet tomorrow somewhere a bit more salubrious. It’ll be an excuse for another farewell drink.’
‘OK,’ I said. I was steaming in the muggy heat of the pub. Drops of sweat prickled down my neck like dozens of small flies.
At last Pippa said she needed to make a move and everyone else was standing up, putting on their jackets. Astrid was standing up. She was pulling on her coat, tying its belt. We trooped outside, into the cool night, to discover her ripped tyres. How mean is that? Never mind. Walk to the Underground. Collect it later. She said we’d all meet tomorrow. Yes. Dream on, my darling. Dream on.
She gripped my arm as she said goodbye and her touch burned through my clothes. I swear I could feel it like a brand on my skin. She kissed Pippa. Now she was speaking to Owen in a low undertone. He was speaking to her. Their heads were close together, nearly touching. She took his hand. Let it go. Now. Let it go. Stand away. This mustn’t happen. Don’t let them go off together. They couldn’t. I screwed my hands into fists and thought I’d have to scream out loud at any moment, to provide relief from the unbearable pressure building inside me. I would explode. Come apart. My head hammered.
‘Right, then.’
Astrid stood back from Owen at last, and I felt relief flood through me, leaving me dizzy and weak as a kitten.
At last she left, raising one hand in farewell as she went. Give her a count of ten before following. I got to six, then worried about losing her. Nobody was looking at me anyway. I saw Astrid walking along the pavement. Stay close, wait for somewhere isolated. I felt in my pocket. The penknife I had used on her bike tyres. The cool weight of a spanner. A blow from behind. She wouldn’t even know.