‘Right. Is that going to happen again?’
‘No. They’ve been, er, called off. One of them is dead, and the other one won’t be bothering you any further. He’s been reassigned, by about eight thousand miles.’
I wave the bit of paper. ‘And signing this means I can’t even go onLoose Womento talk about it.’
‘No.’ She takes the NDA and files it back in her folder.
‘Ugh. Fine. Oh, I’ve thought of another one. Where did the money go from Charli’s account?’
‘It’s been impounded. I think not even you could get your hands on it.’
‘And Charli herself?’
‘One murder confessed and another attempted, all on film, plus the evidence of her accessing the account, and the transactions over the years? She’ll be keeping us busy for a while. I think that at last count there were nine separate agencies gathering evidence on her.’
‘Rob Wallace?’
‘On a long sabbatical from the agency. He’ll be back. He’s done nothing wrong, outside the usual for estate agents.’ I like that. I didn’t think Kate had a sense of humour.
‘What about your bent copper? Jay Hawthorne?’
‘He’s retiring at the end of the month. Very distinguished career.’ Kate’s face suddenly has all the plasticity of a Japanese theatre mask.
‘Is Lulu Harcourt all right?’
‘I believe so. She’s putting her father’s properties on the market.’
‘Sensible girl. And …’ This is the one question I really care about, so paradoxically I’ve saved it until last. ‘What about Jonny, and Elle, and Em?’
Kate McAdams consults her notes. ‘Jonny is still recuperating, in a secure military hospital. Elle is in a safe house in Surrey, which I believe she is attempting to refurbish without permission. And Em …’ She glances down at the piece ofpaper in front of her. ‘Your friend Em is on the other side of that door.’
Clearly McAdams has a taste for the theatrical too. She’s also gathered from my expression that I’m no longer interested in anything she has to say, so the next things she gathers are her paperwork and her jacket. ‘For what it’s worth, I’m rather impressed, although this could all have been done much more cleanly if you’d just told me everything in the restaurant.’
‘Next time, eh?’
She twists her mouth and leaves.
Once she’s gone, I promise myself I’m not going to stare at the room’s outer door like a lovesick puppy. I will be bold, nonchalant, Cool Hand Al. This act lasts for about eight seconds, after which I stare at the door like a lovesick puppy until Em walks through.
She’s dressed down for the occasion – jeans, jumper, trainers – but she looks wonderful. Her hair is bigger than I remember. Sorry, I’m not good at describing this romantic stuff.
‘Nice place you have here.’
‘It’s a house share, but it’s decent. All food laid on and the gym is refreshingly simple. Broad range of life experience in here too. It’s no Balfour Villas, of course, but …’ I shrug.
‘You holding up all right?’
‘Not bad.’
‘They’re dropping the charges, I hear.’
‘Just as I was getting the hang of this place.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘I have a few apologies to make.’ I think of Fred, and – although I have no idea how I’m going to deal with the situation – of Mum and Dad. I’ll manage it somehow. Maybe Fred can help reintroduce us. Eventually.
‘You’ll need somewhere to stay,’ says Em. ‘And something to do.’
