I have to get her to talk.
Seb’s house. The late afternoon light catches it in a way that makes it feel like a memory. I knock on the door. Seb should be at work, I think, but a few seconds later the door opens and he is there. He looks terrible. He is wearing jeans and a blue-checked shirt that looks slept in.
I hold up a hand to stop whatever he might say. ‘I’ve been charged with Grace’s murder,’ I say. ‘They kept me overnight. I’ve just come from court. And I have to stay here. Court bail. I’m sorry. Really sorry, Seb.’
His face runs pale.
‘You’ve been charged? But how?’ he says, plainly shocked.
‘They think I killed her, Seb.’ Without warning, my eyes begin to redden.
‘I’ve been trying to find out what happened to you all night, but those guys, the police, they can be real arseholes,’ he says, and then holds me in a hug.
He leads me inside and to the kitchen. For a second, we look at one another saying nothing. Suddenly I feel exhausted and dirty. I fight the idea of a bath but I need one, my skin is itching hot in place. There’s a part of me that thinks of this dirt on my skin as an amulet. Had it protected me until I had my first bath in years, just upstairs? There’s so much I want to say, but my social skills, always uncertain, feel blown after a night in the cells.
‘Come,’ Seb says. ‘I’ve got coffee brewed.’
‘Look, if it’s okay I’d just as soon go upstairs and—’ I begin but he places a cup in my hand and sits.
‘They charged you with the murder?’ he says again.
I nod, gulping the strong coffee.
‘What did you tell them?’
‘Not much. I went mainly “no comment”.’
‘But you told them you didn’t do it?’ he says, looking into my eyes.
‘I don’t think I did tell them that. Not really,’ I say, running over it in my head.
He visibly recoils as if he’s been hit. ‘What? Why not, Xand? I can’t believe it. This is serious.’
‘Because,’ I say, and then catch myself in a thought. And then it solidifies. I look to catch my fingers trembling. And then my voice:
‘Because I’m not sure I didn’t.’
40
Friday
‘I can’t believe that, Xander,’ Seb says, shaking his head. ‘I don’t think that you could have. I remember how you were about her – you loved her. There’s no way you could have harmed her. Could you?’
‘No. I mean, I don’t believe I could have, Seb. I did love her – I still do. But they think it. And they’re police.’
‘Police can get it wrong, Xander. You’d know if you had. And importantly, we would know.’ He looks at me and sighs. ‘You look exhausted. Let’s get some food inside you.’ He starts to rummage around the cupboards for ingredients.
We would know. We. I think of Nina and how she reacted to me. ‘I need to go and see Nina,’ I say. ‘Where is she living?’
He stops what he is doing and faces me over his granite worktop. ‘Nina? Really?’
‘I have to find out about the dollars. I need an explanation.’
‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea.’
‘Why?’
‘Well, I don’t think you’re going to get much mileage out of her. She was pretty angry after you left. And she wasn’t having any suggestion that she took the money.’
‘But we both know she did – the earring you found.’
‘I know,’ he says, holding his palms out. ‘I’m with you. I just don’t know how much good it’ll do.’
The food comes but all I can see is the sky exchanging light for dusk. I fidget in my seat, on edge. I have to see her.
He finishes a mouthful of salad. ‘I could call her. Press her a bit more maybe? I’m just not sure about aggravating her and making her even more difficult about it.’
I don’t know why Seb can’t see how important this is to me. ‘I don’t care about aggravating her. This is my life.’
‘Okay, okay,’ he says, holding up his hands. ‘I’ll phone. Ask her if we can drop round.’
‘I’d rather just turn up. I don’t want her fobbing us off.’
Seb considers this before nodding, resigned. We drive. Seb’s hands are steady on the wheel and the smell of expensive new leather fills my nostrils. After ten minutes, we turn up a street that must be hers and slow down.
‘I’ll come in with you, Xander. I’m not happy about leaving you with her, especially going by her recent behaviour,’ he says.
‘I’ll be fine, Seb,’ I say, waiting for him to look at me.
He draws smoothly to a halt. ‘Can I wait for you here?’
‘No. Really. I’ll be fine.’
He takes a deep breath. ‘If you’re sure,’ he says. ‘Red door.’
I get out and walk to the well-kept front garden. Although it is small I know that in this part of London, Dulwich Village, the price of this cottage would be eye-watering. She is obviously still working in finance or something else lucrative. My heart skips a little as I rattle the knocker. I wait. The evening begins to gather darkness around my shoulders. I shiver in the cold until the door opens.
Nina appears in the doorway, hair glossy and sharp. She’s dressed as if she’s just back from work. Navy dress in a thick woollen fabric – bouclé, is it?
‘Nina.’
She sighs, taking me in. ‘What do you want, Xander?’
‘I need to talk you.’
‘If it’s about the money, I have nothing more to say to you,’ she says, and crosses her arms.
‘I didn’t kill her, Nina,’ I say softly.
‘Didn’t you? You might as well have.’
‘Nina, I don’t know what she told you, but I did not leave Grace. She left me, and it tore me apart.’
She shakes her head in supressed fury and turns to shut the door on me.
‘Wait. Okay. I know you won’t accept what I say. That’s fine. I get that. She’s your friend.’
‘Was.’ She’s glaring at me. Willing me to challenge her.
‘Was. I’d be surprised if you weren’t loyal to her. But I’m not here about that. I need to know what happened to the money.’
She pauses in the act of shutting the door.
‘I don’t care whether you believe this or not, but I don’t have the money,’ she says, a hand on the door.
My heart sinks at this. ‘Nina. If there were a way I could do this without asking you for anything at all, believe me, I would. But I can’t, Nina. I can’t do it without you. They’re charging me with murder, Nina. I didn’t do it. They think I killed her for the money.’
As I say it I feel my head swimming with the pressure of it all. I want to cry in frustration, make her somehow do the right thing.
She looks at me for a second and then closes the door. ‘Bye, Xander.’
I stare at the shut door. I’m finished. But just as I am about to walk away, the door opens again.
‘Look. If it matters, I know you didn’t kill her,’ she says. ‘You haven’t got the balls. Sorry – that didn’t come across as I meant it.’
I nod at her and smile a little. ‘Well, the police think I have.’
She considers this and I can tell she is weighing up how much she knows, which isn’t much, against what she doesn’t know, which is a lot. In the end she has no words to offer me.
‘You should look at the boyfriend,’ she says, and suddenly I am aware that my face has gone cold.