He’ll have wanted to talk to me after that.
His arms were around me,bothof them, and then there was the noise of the gun going off. It doesn’t make any sense.
I dial.
“What are you doing?” Una asks. “Do you have a contact who can reach him? If you do, Dupin will be chomping at the bit for it.”
It rings once before he answers.
“I’ve been trying to call you all morning. Please tell me you’re okay,” Valdemar says, his words rushing down the line.
“We need to talk.” Avoiding Una’s gaze, I settle my eyes on the floor, trying to keep my voice neutral and vague.
“Of course. Is everything okay?”
“We just need to talk,” I repeat.
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
It would be so much easier for him to come to us, but there’s no way I’m telling Una or Pierre that Valdemar Montresor has been to my apartment.
“No. We’ll come to you,” I tell him.
“We?”
“I’ll explain when we arrive. I take it you’re home?”
“Yes. Shall I send Abel?” he offers.
“No. We’ll drive,” I say.
Ending the call, I drag in a lungful of air and prepare myself for Una’s onslaught.
“I’ll quickly get dressed, and then we can go,” I announce.
Pushing myself out of the chair, I feel two pairs of eyes on me.
“Where the hell are we going, and who did you call?” Una asks, following me across the kitchen.
Unless I want her to come with me while I dress, I’ll have to just spit it out.
“I called Valdemar Montresor. We’re going to his house.”
They glare at me like I’ve suddenly proclaimed I’m the Virgin Mary and carrying the son of God in my womb.
“You wanted answers,” I remind them. Then I step out of the kitchen and into my bedroom.
The three ofus are stuffed into Pierre’s tiny car as we pull up to the front of Corvus House, Una’s mouth not having closed since we set off.
Why the hell do I have Valdemar Montresor’s number?
Have I called him before?
How many times did I go visit him in prison?
How the hell do I know where he lives?
Question after question. I was just glad she didn’t ask me if I’d fucked him. Her curiosity knows no bounds, but I know she’s feeling hurt. I’ve shut her out, which I shouldn’t have done, but there was no way I could have dealt with her disappointment in me that I’ve been fraternising with the enemy. Butishe the enemy? I’ve always thought so. Now, I’m not so sure.
