‘No, we’re detectives,’ says DC Mattoo.
‘Do you want to borrow mine?’
Mattoo smiles at Nathan, who is beyond delighted and runs off. Birch glares at me as if I’m going to break, and we sit in awkward silence. Fortunately, Nathan runs back in with the police helmet, and hands it to Mattoo, who kindly perches it on top of his head to hilarious effect.
‘If you remember anything at all, please get in touch,’ says Birch, rising quickly and handing me a card. She takes the hat off Mattoo’s head, hands it back to Nathan, looks around the room with an air of suspicion and sniffs dismissively.
I close the door as they leave, with Nathan waving wildly and quickly open my Ring app to watch Mattoo and Birch on my screen. I turn up the volume just in time.
‘What did you think?’ says Mattoo.
‘Guilty as hell,’ says Birch and then glances directly at the camera.
Chapter23Research
Thursday, 21 November
‘Right, darling, well done! Great workout,’ I say to Stephen, as we arrive home after a morning run around Ally Pally. As he’s gasping for breath, I decide the time is right.
‘I think we should make an offer on the house,’ I say. This is a little disingenuous as I’ve already made an offer, but it’s important to make him feel in charge.
‘We can’t offer because we can’t afford it,’ he says, in such a depressive tone that I wonder if the early run was worth it at all. I was hoping the dopamine hit would make him more optimistic.
‘An offer doesn’t hold us to anything, at this stage, so let’s have some fun,’ I say. ‘We could even ask your mum for help.’
He looks at me, handsome but forlorn, shakes his head and trudges up the steps in his running shorts. His calves are spattered with mud, which, sadly, arouses me slightly.
I am showered, dressed and out within thirty minutes, heading towards the blue Toyota, which is a godsend. Until you have an untraceable car, you never know how useful it can be. Especially living somewhere like Muswell Hill, as you’re so visible. I mean, you can buy lemongrass in the morning and by the afternoon someone at yoga will ask if you’re making Thai curry for dinner.
I park outside Tor’s in my hat and shades. It’s not that I don’t trust Cait, but who else could’ve told the police that Jason Mercer had been at my house? When I make a promise, I stick to it, but when Cait makes a promise, it feels conditional. That’s emotions for you. Better without them, frankly.
I know she’s had to flee her own home, is having to endure Tor treating her as if she’s infectious, has a vicious estranged husband threatening significant harm, and buried her first body this week, but even so, trust is everything. I imagine she couldn’t sleep after burying him, and called Crimestoppers at four in the morning.
It’s not myself I’m worried about, it’s the children. Nathan would probably be fine. Boys have their needs for food, activity, company and hierarchy, and that’s it. They’re like dogs in this respect, and any decent owner would do. Nelly needs something else and would take revenge on the world when it didn’t bend to her will. And we all know how that ends.
As I wait, I call Sophie. She’s on her way to work but sounds strangely cheerful.
‘Just wanted to check in and see how Paolo reacted to your date?’
‘Well, there’s a story!’ she says. ‘I got all dolled up – new dress, matching underwear, the whole shebang – flaunted it around the flat before I went out. Paolo was asking all kinds of questions, but I batted them all away and left, humming Beyoncé’s “Single Ladies”.’
‘Go girl,’ I say, and Sophie tuts at me, which I think is for my poor American accent.
‘I went to the bar, but I couldn’t go through with it.’
‘Always disappointing to find you have moral boundaries,’ I say.
‘I realized I didn’t want to spend an evening with anyone else. It made me feel grubby,’ she says sweetly. ‘So I went for a long walk and took in a late film at the Everyman. When I got home, he was waiting up, head in hands.’
‘Poor Paolo,’ I say. ‘Oh, wait, Cait’s here!’
I have to wave three times to Cait as she doesn’t recognize thecar. Eventually, the car door opens, Cait gets in. No happy smile from her, just a glum look of what I imagine is guilt sitting like a lump of lead in her stomach. I tell her Sophie’s on the phone telling me about her date and put it on speaker.
‘You’re on speaker now,’ I say. ‘Go on with the story.’
‘Hi, Cait!’ Sophie calls. Cait barely responds. ‘Anyway I thought Paolo was angry, but he was crying. He said he didn’t want to lose me.’ Sophie pauses. ‘And...’
‘He threw you against the wall and...’
