“So what have you found out?” I asked as he sat on the edge of my sofa.
He studied a sheet of paper he was holding. “Paul Nebworth had a younger brother. His parents moved down south after...”
“So the brother never went to our school?”
Robbie shook his head. “From what I gather, the parents made a clean break. Moved miles away.”
“So our mystery man could be Paul’s brother?” If he was, it explained a lot, I thought. Perhaps he’d only just discovered what had happened to Paul. Perhaps he had come to York bent on revenge for some reason. Revenge on me. But I was innocent.
“And what have you found out about the dead girl? Elizabeth Uriel?”
Robbie leaned forward, as though he didn’t want to be overheard. “I spoke to one of her neighbours... showed her that photo with our mystery man in the background. She was sure she’d seen him at Uriel’s flat. Said she heard raised voices a couple of times.”
“We should tell the police about this.” I suddenly felt hopeful that the nightmare was about to end.
But Robbie shook his head. “We’d better wait till we have more evidence.” He looked away, avoiding my eyes. “I’m sorry, Jack. You know what the police are like.”
I noticed that he was fidgeting with his shirt cuff, something he’d always done when he was nervous or agitated. Perhaps there was something he wasn’t telling me. “I think it would be best if you just left it for now; wait and see what happens. The police aren’t stupid. I reckon they know you’d been set up and that’s why you were released on bail. They’ll get to the bottom of it.”
“You should still tell them what you’ve found out, Robbie.” I looked him in the eye and I could tell he was uneasy. But I couldn’t think why this was.
“Like I said, let’s wait and see. Sorry, I’ve got to go.” He stifled a yawn. I could see the strain on his face. Just then he looked ten years older than he had that morning.
I saw him out and settled down for what was left of the evening. My flat wasn’t luxurious, but it was comfortable and a million times better than that cell in the bowels of the police station. I’d have a long soak in the bath and a reasonably early night.
And it was when I was lying in the bath, eyes closed, with the warm water lapping around my body, that I heard the metallic click of a key turning in a lock.
I froze, listening. I could hear the front door closing followed by soft footsteps on the wooden floor. Then I remembered that whoever had set me up must have had access to my key at some point. It would be a simple matter to get it copied in any high street. I stepped out of the bath, towelled myself down, and grabbed my dressing gown. If I had to face an intruder, I didn’t want to be naked and vulnerable.
The intruder was moving about in the living room as I made my way quietly along the passage. The door stood open and I could see him. He had picked up a framed photograph of me and Robbie together, drinks in hand, at some long-forgotten function, and he was staring at it with intense concentration.
I watched him for a while before I spoke.
“Why are you doing this?” I kept my voice quiet, calm. I didn’t yet know whether my visitor was dangerous.
He swung round. It was him, the man from the Shambles. And he looked frightened, which wasn’t what I expected.
“Why aren’t you in custody?” he said almost in a whisper.
“Because I didn’t kill that woman.”
He took a step back, recovering from the shock of being interrupted. I could tell he was biding his time, gathering strength.
“But you killed her, didn’t you?” I said, trying to keep my voice firm and confident. “You set me up. You drugged me at the reunion somehow, brought me back here, and took stuff to plant at her flat to incriminate me. Why did you kill her?”
The man suddenly looked unsure of himself. “We quarrelled. It was an accident.”
“The police said she was strangled. You don’t strangle people by accident.”
He took a step forward. “Okay, I lost my temper. Then I thought I’d turn the situation to my advantage. I’ve waited a long time for this.”
“For what?” I had a strong feeling of foreboding. This wasn’t going well.
“To get justice for my brother. I only found out a few months ago that you were responsible for Paul’s death. My mother died and I went through her papers. I was much younger than Paul, you see. My parents shielded me... told me nothing.”
“You’re wrong. I had nothing to do with what happened to Paul.” Somehow I had to convince him.
But he wasn’t listening. “The reports said you were working with him when he died, but you denied seeing what happened to him. You must have lied. And when I looked up Semchester High on the Internet and saw that your year were having a reunion and that you were going, I...”
“I had nothing to do with Paul’s death. I swear,” I almost shouted. I had to make him believe me.
He took a step toward me and my heart started to pound. I wrote about danger and murder all the time but the reality was quite different. I was scared.
“You must have killed him. There was nobody else.”
“You’re wrong. There were lots of other people around. And they never found his body, so how are you so sure he’s dead?”
This was obviously a question he hadn’t expected. He frowned, considering the answer. “He must be dead. He wouldn’t have gone away like that.”
He was beginning to have doubts, and I suddenly began to feel more confident. But then I remembered that he had killed once. And, what is more, I knew he’d killed — he’d confessed to me. He wasn’t going to leave a witness to his crime. I was in trouble. Serious trouble.
I looked round, searching for inspiration. The newspaper I’d picked up on the way home was lying, unread, on the coffee table and a headline caught my eye. “Actor killed in mystery robbery.” And beneath the headline was a posed photograph of Sebastian Sitwall displaying a row of perfect teeth. I felt as though the breath had been knocked out of me. I had only seen Sebastian a couple of days ago at the reunion and, even though I hadn’t liked him, man or boy, I was distracted momentarily from my predicament.
“What is it?” My unwelcome visitor’s question brought me back to reality.
“One of your brother’s old classmates has been killed. He was at the reunion. Actor called Sebastian Sitwall. You still haven’t told me your name.”
The man said nothing for a few moments, then he spoke. “It’s better you don’t know.” He reached in his pocket and I knew that this was life or death. He’d killed a woman in a fit of rage, then he’d tried to frame me because he thought he’d found evidence that I’d killed his brother. Only he was wrong. When Paul disappeared into the mist that day, I had no idea what had happened to him. All I knew was that I hadn’t killed him.
When the doorbell rang, I jumped. I hadn’t realised I was so tense, but then it was hardly surprising in the circumstances. The bell rang again and my captor and I stared at each other.
“Ignore it,” he whispered. “They’ll go away.”
I had no choice but to obey. His hand was still inside his jacket, and I had a feeling that he had some kind of weapon in there. He was sure to have come prepared.
Suddenly I heard the door being pushed open, and Robbie’s voice calling hello. Instinctively I shouted back, “Call the police, Robbie. He’s here.”
I saw a look of horror pass across the man’s face as he shoved me out of the way. He dashed past Robbie, almost knocking him to the ground as he flew out of the door. A stunned Robbie steadied himself and caught his breath for a few moments before I sat him down and poured us both a drink.
“We’d better call the police,” I said. “He confessed to killing that woman and said he set me up because he thought I’d killed Paul Nebworth. He’s Paul’s younger brother.”