‘Do you think Zellah was in love with Mike?’
He thought about it. ‘I think she was – at first, anyway. She was mad about him, and it wasn’t just sex. It must have been a lonely life for her, the way things were at home. But it was always hard to tell with Zellah what she really thought about anything. And of course she did dump him in the end.’
‘Ending it was her idea, was it?’
‘Well, according to Mike she just stopped phoning him. He couldn’t understand it.’
‘She didn’t give a reason?’
‘Mike never said. I think he was a bit miffed, so he didn’t like talking about it.’
‘Do you remember when that was – when they stopped seeing each other?’
He shook his head slowly. ‘I can’t say exactly. A couple of months ago, anyway. It’s not like I wrote it down in my diary, you know?’
‘Try to think. It may be important.’
He screwed up his face. ‘I can’t remember,’ he said at last. ‘Some time after Easter. They were still together in the Easter holidays, I remember that, because of all the planning that went on, for them to be able to see each other. So it was after that. Beginning, middle of May, maybe.’
‘But of course they may still have been seeing each other secretly,’ Slider threw in casually.
‘I don’t think so,’ Paulson said at once. ‘She was seeing someone else.’
‘Are you sure about that?’
‘Oh, yes,’ he said. ‘But I don’t know who,’ he added, anticipating the question. ‘She was very secretive about it.’
‘She didn’t ever meet him at your house?’
‘No. I don’t know where they met. He must have had his own place. You see, when she was going out with Mike, I didn’t see her here so much, because she was meeting him at his flat. And when she broke off with him, she came here a bit more often, but not as much as before Mike. So I reckon she was seeing the new bloke at his place.’
Slider pondered this. ‘What did Chloë and Sophy think about the new boyfriend?’
‘I don’t think they knew about him. I think she was keeping him a secret from them. I never heard her talk about him.’
‘Then how do you know there was anybody?’ Slider said, frustrated.
He found this question difficult to answer. ‘I just know there was someone. She was in love. You could see it – that look they have, sort of dreamy and always thinking about something else. She was like that about Mike at first, but she wasn’t secretive about him – not with us, anyway. No, I’m certain there was someone. But it was a big secret.’
‘Why did it have to be a secret?’ Slider asked. He felt a sense of doom creeping up on him. Not a whole new person to investigate, not at this stage!
‘I don’t know. Maybe it was someone she thought Sophy would disapprove of. Maybe she just didn’t want to go through all that again.’ He stretched. ‘Anything else? ’Cause I’ve got a bit of work I ought to finish up, and I’m going out tonight.’
‘Just a couple more questions,’ Slider said. Because of the way he was sitting he had been staring, over Paulson’s shoulder, at an enormous painting on the wall over the fireplace, and it reminded him of something Carmichael had said. ‘I understand you know Alex Markov?’
‘Yeah, I’ve met him at parties and things. We’re not close mates or anything, but I know him.’
‘He’s another customer of Mike Carmichael’s, I understand.’
He looked cautious. ‘Well, I don’t know about that.’
‘Oh, come on, if you’ve met him at parties you must know he likes the same jollies as you. Anyway, Mike told me so.’
‘Well, why are you asking me, then?’ he said sulkily. ‘Yeah, he does a line or two. So what? Everyone does.’
‘More than a line or two?’
‘I’m not his keeper. But I’ve seen him get monged occasionally. Well, more than occasionally. What of it?’
‘Has he been here to your flat?’
‘Yeah, once or twice,’ he said reluctantly. Evidently Markov was not someone he wanted to have associated with his name – at least, not in front of a police officer. Slider found that interesting. He had been enthusiastic about Carmichael, who on the face of it was a far more dangerous acquaintance to admit.
‘Has he met the girls here?’ he asked.
‘I don’t think so. But they know him anyway – he’s a teacher at their school. He’s not like an ordinary teacher, though,’ he added quickly, in case Slider thought him uncool to hang with a member of the NUT. ‘He teaches art, and he’s an artist himself. The teaching’s just to pay the rent, you know. The painting’s his real career. He’s good. I bought one of his things once – that’s it, over there. Cool, isn’t it?’
The massive canvas, about six feet by four, was painted with two oblongs of different shades of red, which overlapped near the middle making a third shade. It dominated that end of the room, but cool was the last thing Slider would have said about all that redness.
‘I don’t know anything about modern art,’ he excused himself.
‘Well, I don’t either,’ Paulson confessed endearingly, ‘but I liked the colour, and the poor bloke was short of a bob or two and I’d just had a bonus, so I thought it couldn’t hurt. An original Markov – maybe it’ll be worth a fortune one day. Who knows?’
‘Why was he short of money?’
‘I don’t know,’ Paulson said with easy indifference. ‘Expensive lifestyle, I suppose.’ Slider thought of the flat, the skiing holidays, and above all the drug habit. ‘I don’t think the teaching pays much – it’s not full-time.’
‘There’s his painting,’ Slider suggested.
‘When he sells one. I don’t suppose it’s that often. Anyway, he told me once it was his wife who had to take out the mortgage in her name, because he didn’t have enough equity in his salary to cover the loan.’
‘Have you met her?’
‘No, they don’t really go around together. She’s a high-up nurse and she works shifts. To tell you the truth, I think they’re having problems. But I don’t really know. You’d have to ask him about that. All I can say is, I’ve never seen them out together. Why do you want to know about Alex, anyway?’
‘No particular reason. He was just mentioned in passing in a conversation. One last thing. Can you tell me what you were doing on Sunday night?’
He entirely failed to be alarmed by the question. He laughed. ‘When did you last see your father, eh? Well, let me see. I got home Sunday morning from a party about four-ish, went to bed, got up about midday, went down the pub with the others and met some friends. One of them’s married with a family and everything, and he invited us back to his place in Holland Park for Sunday lunch. Stayed there for the rest of the day. Then about nine we went on to a party in Clapham, at a friend of Jeremy’s. He’s my flatmate, Jeremy? Jeremy, Jamie, Ben and me share this flat.’
‘You didn’t come back here to change or anything?’
‘No, you want to keep away from the area when the Carnival’s on,’ he said. ‘That’s why we were glad to go to Gary and Stella’s for Sunday lunch. So then the four of us went on to this party in Clapham and stayed there all night. We came back Monday morning about ten-ish, got cleaned up, and then Ben and Jamie went to see their parents, and Jeremy and I went out to see a friend who lives in Hampstead.’
‘Did you drive there?’
‘Tube. I don’t have a car. I don’t think it’s worth it in London. The parking’s horrendous.’