“God, I said in the texts … do you ever look at your phone?”
“Oh, I turned it off before my nap.”
“Your … day-long nap?”
“Yes,” I said. Keeping my chin up.
“Is that a common occurrence?” he asked, his brow creasing. “Are you okay, you know …” He gestured at his head. “Mentally?”
I glared at him and took a long time to respond. “Yes, I’m fine,mentally,” I said through gritted teeth. I tried to tell myself he was in the military, which meant he was probably a Neanderthal at anything involving the psychological, so his lack of tact was surely not his fault. This explained all those soldiers going around with PTSD, but hey, that was the army’s problem and not mine.
“Okay …” he said, clearly not believing me. Well, I was. I was fine. Except for the ex who tried to kill me, and the tripping over dead bodies wherever I went. Fine. Totally fine.
“So.” I brushed off my muffin crumbs and eyed a second in the Tupperware container. “What do you need my help with?”Please don’t say funerals, please don’t say funerals.
Simon played with the strap of his watch and took a long time to respond. I watched him intently, the crease between his brow, the trickle of sweat running down behind his ear from the heat that was already building up outside, the sun-kissed freckles along the back of his neck. It wasn’t long before my eyes slinked down to his large shoulders, which were straining the T-shirt he was wearing, or his arms that stretched the seams on the sleeves. He was only average height, but there was a definite built-like-a-brick-shithouse air to his physique.
But then he spoke, and my attention snapped back.
“I want you to help me find who killed Riz.”
Chapter 14
There was a long silence.
“I’m sorry,” I said after I’d found my jaw somewhere on my un-hoovered floor and picked it up again. “Did you say—”
“The cops are fucking useless; the intelligence services are even worse. They’ve both convinced the others that it was a random mugging gone wrong.”
“But—”
“It’s like they want it to be that way, Arden!” He slammed his fist down on the table, which caused Kennedy to whine and disappear underneath it. “They don’t want it to be political, or a hate crime, or, God forbid, terrorism. So, they’ve decided it’s much easier for the UK’s reputation to take a hit as some lawless hellhole where gangs of street kids go around with pistols shooting people in cars rather than find out what happened.”
“Which was—”
“I haven’t got a fucking clue!” he yelled and stood up, knocking his chair down. Kennedy whined again and burrowed into my leg under the table.
Simon paced my tiny dining room, running his hands through his hair.
“They … they’re going in with their minds made up. They want some tearaway kid from an estate to pin this on.”
“Simon, calm down.”
“Don’t you see, Arden?” He turned to me, his arms wide. “This is exactly the stunt they pulled with Tarquin! Only you saw it for what it was; they wanted a quick arrest to clean up their stats. They couldn’t care less about who killed Arabella. They’d have happily let Tarquin keep wandering about outside and put Pawelaway if it was easier. I bet you that they’re going to do the same with Riz’s killer!”
“Simon—”
“So, help me catch them! C’mon.” He got down beside me, right in my face. “How did you do it? How did you figure it all out and decide it was Tarquin that did it? What do we need to do?”
Before I could answer, he was pacing again. “We need a list of suspects. Marina. All the other candidates. I’ll have to be on it too—”
He continued to work himself up, pacing backwards and forwards and ignoring me calling his name. “Simon!” I said loudly, which made Kenny whine even more. He couldn’t trust me either now, so instead hid under another chair.
“Would you please calm down?” I yelled at him, ducking under the table as I shouted, so it wasn’t to his face.
“C’mere, mate,” I said to Kenny, who was cowering. “I’m sorry I yelled, c’mere, mate. It’s okay, I promise.” I patted my thigh, and slowly he wagged his tail and came back towards me. I stroked his head and gave him a kiss. “And you scared Kenny.” More than a bit of annoyance filled my voice.
Simon’s legs were at a standstill. I couldn’t see anything above mid-thigh from my spot on the floor. His jeans and desert boots were rooted to the spot.
