She reaches across and takes the sparkler from the drink, then hands it, with a flourish, to her friend. It's all just a little too theatrical. As if she knows she's being watched. Which, of course, she is.
She picks up the glass and takes a sip.
`Actually, that's not too bad.'
Her friend grins and gives the barman a high five. `Way to go, Gerry!'
`Though there's still no way I'm drinking it.'
Her friend slides, a little awkwardly, off her stool. `I'll just take the drinks over to the girls. Amy's sending me manic distress signals.'
Left to herself, the woman reaches for the hair clip to take it off. But it's got caught. The young man has to stop himself offering to help, but she finally manages to yank it clear, stuffing it into her bag, then rubbing the side of her head.
She must have seen the young man pick up his glass out of the corner of her eye because she looks straight at him now. She flushes and smiles, a little self-consciously.
`Bloody thing `“ it's been giving me a headache all evening.'
There's a squeal of laughter from the girls' table now and Chloe starts to make her way, none too steadily, back to the bar.
`Sorry if we've been a bit loud,' says the bride. `Blame it on the job. We work at a law firm, for our sins. It's hardly laugh-a-minute.'
`You're a solicitor?' asks the young man.
She looks at him for a moment, then takes another sip of the drink. Her eyes are very bright. `No, just a legal secretary. Very, very, very dull. What about you?'
`Me? Oh, I'm just a civil servant. That's pretty dull, too.'
The woman laughs and raises her glass in a toast. `May universal dullness cover all!'
Chloe comes up and leans her arm round her friend's shoulders. She's having difficulty staying upright. `Are you coming, Sand? The girls want to move on somewhere else.'
`In a minute. What sort of civil servant?'
He hesitates; perhaps there's something about his job he'd rather not divulge. At least to attractive women he's only just met. `At the council. I'm in Planning.'
A smile curls her lips. `I see. So you're the man to ask if I want an extension?'
Chloe starts shrieking with laughter. `Oh my God! I can't believe you just said that!'
The bride is smiling too, but playfully, as if goading him. As if she's seen through his lie.
`You might be a useful man to know, Mr I'm-in-Planning. Do you have a card?'
His turn to flush. `No, sorry.'
She smiles a little more widely and reaches for a napkin. `I'm sure you have a phone number, though,' she says. `Even very dull people have those. You can write it down for me. Just in case.'
Chloe is looking at her, wide-eyed, as the young man takes out a pen and writes the numbers down.
The woman picks up the napkin, looks at it, and then at him. `Adam Fawley,' she says softly. `For a dull man, you have a distinctly interesting name.'
* * *
`There's nothing in the recordings,' says Saumarez, staring at the TV. It's a huge flat-screen in the corner of the sitting room. So huge that it's hard to get far enough away from it to focus properly. `But let's have a look at the deleted items. We may get lucky `“ not everyone knows you have to erase stuff twice on these things.'
He starts to scroll through the list `“ Monday Night Football, The Big Fight Live.
`Everything OK? Only I need to get going.'
It's Riley, standing at the door. He's dressed now, a leather jacket slung over one shoulder.
`Yes, thank you, Mr Riley, we won't be long now.'
`What's this then?' he says, moving towards the TV. Saumarez has stopped scrolling; he's staring at the screen.
`Oh, just something we were checking,' says Somer quickly, a little embarrassed.
`Patsie loves that crap,' says Riley, gesturing at the list. `Watches it all the fucking time. Faking It, A Perfect Murder, The First 48. I asked her once why she was wasting her time with shit like that and she just gave me one of those looks of hers and said `њresearch`ќ.'
He sees their faces change and laughs. `Yeah, like, seriously `“ she actually said that. I said to her, was she planning on killing me then, and she just did this weird smile. Bloody creeped me out, I can tell you.'
He hitches his jacket a little higher. `Of course, when Den told me you were questioning her about the Sasha Blake thing I practically pissed myself. I mean `“ you couldn't make it up. She'd only been watching that sodding show two days before.'
Somer frowns. `I'm not with you. Which show?'
Saumarez turns to her. `I know which one he means,' he says quietly. `It's called I Killed My BFF.'
* * *
Adam Fawley
11 April 2018
15.40
I can see it now, in my head. The colours slightly too bright, the focus slightly too sharp, like it is in dreams, or in fever. Parking the car outside the Co-op that day. The litter bin spilling over with rubbish, a magpie perched on the edge, something pink and glittery gripped in its beak, sparkling in the low winter sun. Something I thought, even then, I recognized. I remember my pace slowing, just for a moment; I remember wondering at the coincidence, if that's what it was. But I didn't put it together, not then. Not then, and not even five minutes later when I went inside and saw her and realized that she'd cut her hair.
And what about later, you're going to say, after they found what they found? If forensics had come to me first, if they'd showed me what was in that evidence bag, would I have put it together then?
Yes. No question.
And would I have said something? Would I have done things differently?
I think so, but if I'm honest, I don't know. I still don't know, even now. Because we knew it was him. I knew it was him. And this was the only way we were going to make him pay.
But it's all hypothetical, because they didn't come to me. They went to Osbourne, and he realized at once what they had, and the difference it could make, and by the time anyone told me it was far, far too late.
* * *
When Gallagher looks up from her desk and sees Somer her first reaction is to frown.
`Aren't you supposed to be off this afternoon?'
But then she notices there's a man standing behind her, and the thought half forms that this must be the boyfriend everyone's talking about, but then Somer's holding out her phone and there's no mistaking the look on her face.
Gallagher stares at the screen then looks up, frowning. `Sorry, I don't get it `“ what's this?'
`It's from the TV in Patsie Webb's house. A programme she watched six months ago `“ a programme she thought she'd deleted. This is why those girls ripped out Sasha's hair, and why they'd already done exactly the same thing to Faith. They knew about the Roadside Rapist all along. They wanted us to think he was back `“ they wanted us so focused on him we wouldn't go looking anywhere else.'
TRUE CRIME TVNew: Britain's Most Notorious Predators1h 3m 
В® ↕ Record series, Monday 11.00 pmThe Roadside Rapist: True crime author Walter Selnick Jr takes an in-depth look at the case of Gavin Parrie, convicted of seven brutal sex attacks in the UK in 1999. But could the real rapist still be out there? (S3, ep8)* * *
Adam Fawley