“I. WAS. HUNGRY.”
“I can’t believe the police let you go. It’s not safe. You’re a beast,” said Catherine. The lamp was by her side now, but she still looked prepared to strike Carol with it, should she need to.
“Well, um, I might have had something to do with that,” said Margaret sheepishly. “I, well, I went down to the police station and told them to release her.”
“Margaret!” exclaimed Catherine.
“Well, I hadn’t read this, had I?”
“Yes, but you knew she was a killer.”
Geoffrey, who was still on the sofa, held up his hand. “I’m not being funny, Catherine, but you did say earlier on that you thought maybe she hadn’t done it after all.”
“Can you not refer to me as ‘she,’ please? I’m right here. This is…well, it’s just bigotry, isn’t it? You should be ashamed of yourselves. And you still haven’t explained why you’re in my flat. What gives you the right?”
“I wasn’t sure about it,” said Catherine. “You’d been arrested and I just wanted to know if you’d done it and, if you did do it, why. And now I have my answer: because you’re deranged. You belong in an institution.”
The words hurt. Carol was not a psychopath. She was a woman with feelings.
“Come on, Geoffrey. Let’s get out of here,” said Catherine.
Geoffrey, still apparently dazed, stood up. “Carol, I’m suddenly a little peckish. You don’t happen to have any biscuits, do you?”
“Geoffrey!” Catherine grabbed him by the wrist.
She and Geoffrey edged toward the front door, keeping their distance, their eyes on Carol. Margaret had already left the flat. Once they had a clear route to the exit, Catherine put down the lamp. Then she and Geoffrey ran as fast as two people of their age could.
The door shut behind her and Carol was alone again. The walls were closing in on her and they wouldn’t stop until they formed a cell.
—
Carol sat downat her kitchen table and stared into space. Her palms rested on the table’s cold surface. She felt vulnerable and exposed. It was embarrassing for people to see her innermost thoughts. Did other people really not go through a phase like that? Granted, maybe they didn’t carry any of it out, but surely everyone had fantasized about beheading the annoying man on the bus.
She had no time to dwell. That was what the last few decades had been about. Carol Quinn had done enough staring into space for a hundred lifetimes. Now was the time to fight for the life she had. If people were afraid of her,good. She’d use that to her advantage. She’d interview her suspects. She’d get them alone and she’d interrogate them. Bad cop. If everyone thought she was liable to kill them at a moment’s notice, that meant they’d do what she said. “Sit down, let’s talk.”
She heard a vacuum cleaner outside. Carol looked at her watch. Around the same time that Desmond had come off the roof. No time like the present. There was a cleaner and they needed to be questioned.
Then something came back to her.
The vacuuming stopped. Good. A gentle breeze, a touch of sun on her face.
Why had the sound of the Hoover stopped just before Desmond was killed?
Thirty-One
Carol recognized Elisafrom behind. She was bent over, vacuuming in a tight black skirt and flats with a black suit jacket. Some people vacuumed in neat lines, like they were mowing a lawn. Elisa attacked the floor in short jabs that went in all directions.
“Hello, Elisa,” said Carol. Elisa didn’t hear her at first. Carol turned off the Hoover with her foot. Elisa jumped.
“Surprised to see me?”
“Carol! I thought you were…”
“In police custody? Just as you planned it?” Carol wasn’t messing about. The Henry Hoover’s face remained in a fixed smile, oblivious to the tension in the air.
“Carol, I didn’t—”
“No, you didn’t call the police—Geoffrey Standing did that—but you did tell Belinda I’d called her a slut. Didn’t you? When you knew I hadn’t? You knew that the police were on their way, I’m sure they called ahead, so you engineered an altercation betweenme and Belinda. Bet you were delighted when the police arrived just as it kicked off.”
