‘You told them my name! They can trace phones, you know, and now they’ve got all that information recorded!’
‘I thought you wanted me to report it,’ I say, my face a picture of innocence.
‘They’ll think I did it!’ Cait says, walking in a circle, her head bowed.
‘I’ll phone back and explain. I’ll say that you didn’t actually kill the man, you were only an accomplice.’
‘Lalla!’ she half screams, holding on to a tree trunk for support. ‘I wasn’t an accomplice!’
‘Well, whatever you call someone who helps a murderer and obstructs justice... I thought it was called an accomplice.’
‘I didn’t help you,’ she says.
‘Oh, you’re being modest, of course you helped. You were hugely reassuring, and you pulled out the murder weapon. You even discussed getting rid of the corpse in Wood Green and, most helpful of all, you kept this crime from the authorities.’
‘That’s not how it was at all!’ she says, grabbing at me with both hands.
‘Don’t panic, Cait,’ I say and rub her back. ‘I know you’re innocent, but you know how the police are. They want everything to fit into place. The worst-case scenario is that they see you as an accessory after the fact.’
‘But I didn’t kill anyone!’ she shouts, then glances at the studio and stops herself.
‘No one thinks you did. I’m just trying to protect you. Now, I’m all for getting this out in the open, but I’m scared for you and the twins.’
‘What have the twins got to do with it?’ says Cait, rising towards me, her expression taut and knotted.
‘We don’t want to do anything that might risk custody. Would Owen get them if you weren’t deemed a fit mother?’
‘Oh, God,’ she says, her body shrinking.
‘Look, I’m so grateful you didn’t tell anyone,’ I say. ‘I bought you a Terry’s Chocolate Orange as a thank you. It’s in the car. Iwant to avoid any possibility of an experienced detective thinking you’re up to your eyeballs in this.’
‘All I did was look in through the window,’ she says, sobbing. ‘I thought you’d killed Stephen.’
‘Of course you did,’ I say and hold her hands. And then a thought occurs and Cait sees me frown.
‘What is it?’
‘It’s just the door camera,’ I say. ‘They’ll see you running from the house with blood all over your coat.’
‘Oh, God...’ she whimpers and throws her hands to her face.
‘But if we don’t tell...’ I prise her hands down. ‘No one knows anything. The girls are safe. It’s our little secret.’
My phone rings, which startles Cait. It’s a withheld number, but I answer anyway.
‘Hello,’ I say.
‘This is the Metropolitan Police. We just received a call from this number, and wanted to check that everything’s all right.’
I look across to Cait.
‘Iseverything all right?’ I ask.
Chapter17Concrete
Sunday, 17 November
The rain has thankfully held off and I’m standing by my car outside a depressingly cheerful superstore with a trolley full of bunting, paper plates, cups, and wooden cutlery for the school’s winter fair – the PTA have ordered enough to run a small café for a year.
