“So, the police are aware of this?”
“Oh, yes,” he said, sneering. “Neuberger was very interested.”
I felt a headache coming on as I listened. “Okay” – I was pinching the bridge of my nose again – “you were convinced Riz was doing something dodgy? I mean, I don’t want to sound mean, but you were marrying the guy. You’re not painting the prettiest of pictures to me.”
Simon stopped his pacing for a second and looked at me squarely. I thought I’d offended him again, which was something I had a talent for with Mr Anson. Eventually, though, he looked away and sat down in the armchair opposite me.
Kenny rushed to put his head on a thigh and get himself some snout scratches. He huffed slightly when Simondidn’t instantly comply. “You need to—” I gestured at the dog to tell Simon so he didn’t get barked at, which was what I could tell Kenny was working up to. There had been upwards of seven seconds of him not being adored, and he frankly couldn’t take it any longer. Kenny shot me a look, as if sayingBut why has he forsaken me? Teach him, teach him the ways!but I refused to be drawn. Traitorous mutt was finding out his mistress wasn’t as attentive as the one he had at home.
Simon got the picture and put his hand around Kenny’s mane to scoop him in closer to cuddle against his leg. Instantly, Kenny’s tongue fell out of the corner of his mouth, and he took on a serene expression, all prior ignoring forgiven. The slut.
“He was a difficult man,” Simon said eventually. “A good man. At least I thought. An interesting man. Like, really interesting. Full of ideas and passions. He wanted to change the world. Had all sorts of plans for ways the country could be run better. Our first date” – Simon grinned to himself as he remembered the event – “we were in this pub, and he had all these beermats he used to build a model. He was trying to explain ideas he had for redoing operating theatres using techniques he’d seen during a junket to the States he’d gone on. I remember thinking how handsome he was when he was passionate about something.”
“You were in love with him,” I said quietly. I hoped the envy in my voice didn’t make itself known. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t wanted more than one night with me; my face didn’t light up when I discussed proofreading.
“Not really.” He shook his head.
“What?”
“The whole thing was a charade. Marina dreamt it up.”
“Wait—”
“We were together, yes. And we got back together – but the engagement? Pure theatre. I was never going to marryhim. The more I saw him twisting himself into this awful person who wanted to win no matter what, the more I wanted to be out of there as soon as possible.”
He paused for a second and puffed out his cheeks as if he’d had to breathe hard to say that. He held Kenny close, and I kept still, trying not to interrupt. “He … he wasn’t close to anyone. His parents – he hadn’t spoken to them in months. I thought it was because they were old-fashioned, you know, they were disapproving of him being gay, but the longer I knew him … He distanced himself from his parents, not the other way around. I’d only met them once before yesterday. But they seemed … not scared of him, but wary.”
I couldn’t think of anything to say, so was glad when Simon’s phone started buzzing. He took it out of his pocket and rolled his eyes. “It’s mum. She will not be put off. I best go.” He stood up.
His abruptness took me by surprise, but I saw a flicker of doubt on his face, and he wasn’t meeting my eye. “I’m glad you told me those things,” I said eventually. Perhaps his doubt was from revealing his emotions. I know how he felt.
He came over to me, and I found myself holding him, ever so lightly and briefly. But as we pulled away, he clung to the back of my arms, gripping on to the tender flesh there.
“We can do this, right?” He looked at me intently. His bright eyes were glassy with unshed tears.
I lied. “Yes.”
He hesitated for a second and then gave me a bro-y backslap. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Hopefully, we can make some progress.”
I tried to disagree, but before I knew it, he was gone.
The house echoed around its newfound silence. Kennedy was giving me mournful looks and seemed to be already missing his new friend.
I paced around the house for half an hour, full of nervous energy, while I contemplated everything that he’d just told me. It all made sense, but none of it pointed to a reason for Riz being killed. The only logical option did look to be what the police – and, gulp, whoever the hell in the intelligence services that Simon worked for exactly – were saying. That Riz was killed in some sort of bizarre mugging gone wrong.
But those phone calls. They were the only thing that stood out. If I did go through with this ridiculous idea, then maybe our first port of call should be Marina Holt.
I shook my head. This was absurd. I was no detective. It was blind luck I’d found out anything about Tarquin. Instead, I grabbed Kennedy’s lead, and we went for a long walk across the hills. We passed the Parkinsons in a field, and I waved enthusiastically but ignored Rita’s beckoning hail in return and pretended not to hear her calling my name as she invited me for lunch. The last thing I needed was to be ‘on’ for more people.
We returned home, one of us more fatigued than the other. I ate another muffin and slumped on the sofa at lunchtime. I had put off the inevitable long enough. My phone was in my hand. I grimaced and switched it on. As soon as it was loaded up, it vibrated for what seemed like an eternity as messages came through. Gritting my teeth, I opened them after they’d all been received.
Several were from Simon, as he had said. A couple of texts from yesterday and later a voicemail, and then this morning a curt message asking if I was dead.
A voicemail from Nigella with an update on Jed, asking me to call her back.
Ollie had rung late in the evening yesterday and then sent me a text telling me he had found a lawyer for me and to ring him back.
There were several messages from Verity. I didn’t have the energy or the patience to listen to or read any of them.
