He didn’t answer Ursula’s question, but he caught my eye again, and the bleakness was back in his features. I knew then that he’d reached the same terrible conclusion as I had, back there listening to Leanne recounting her story in that dingy hallway.
I couldn’t get around the fact there was no way Roger should have known that Nasir had been killed at midnight on the night the two of them had attacked me at the gym. According to the official line, Nas’s body wasn’t discovered until the following morning.
Which begged the question, how did Roger know his friend was dead? And for what, exactly, was he so sorry?
***
Sean dropped me off at my flat on St George’s Quay, helped a subdued Ursula into the front passenger seat, and left with a tight-lipped smile. I retrieved the Suzuki and headed back to Pauline’s, feeling guilty at having abandoned her so completely on her first day home.
I should have known it wasn’t over yet. When I turned in to the end of Kirby Street the first thing I saw was the dark blue Vauxhall police car sitting right outside Pauline’s house.
It was an unmarked, but it had that official look to it, nevertheless, and the usual giveaway of no dealer stickers in the rear window. There was a single occupant, sitting in the driver’s seat. I saw him duck his head when he heard the Suzuki’s distinctive two-stroke exhaust note, checking me out in the door mirror. I glanced in as I wheeled past, but didn’t recognise the face, and wasn’t inclined to wait for an introduction.
Someone else must have recognised the vehicle for what it was, too. There was an ugly dent in the Vauxhall’s front wing, extending halfway across the bonnet, and the windscreen was cracked. The damage had to be very recent, if the complete lack of rust on the exposed metal was anything to go by. I wondered if they’d collected it on the way in.
I rolled straight down the side of the house to the back without stopping, putting the bike away in the shed and then letting myself in through the kitchen door. I paused, and heard voices from the living room. Pauline’s, and a man’s deeper, slightly clipped tones. With a sinking heart, I pushed open the door.
“Ah, Charlie, there you are, dear,” Pauline said. “We were just waiting for you to get back. Look who’s come to see you.”
MacMillan was sitting on Pauline’s sofa, drinking tea with the lady of the house, and looking very much at home. She’d even brought out one of her best ornamental teapots in honour of the occasion.
Friday, some guard dog, was lying at the policeman’s feet with his head across one polished shoe. I took a certain amount of dark satisfaction to note that at least he’d slobbered over it.
“Hello Superintendent,” I said, instantly cautious, dumping my helmet and gloves on the back of a chair. “What can I do for you?”
MacMillan took one look at me and sighed. He put his cup and saucer down carefully on the side table next to him and sat forwards.
The movement jerked Friday out of sleep. The dog clambered to his feet, ambling off into the kitchen.
Pauline’s bright eyes flicked backwards and forwards between the two of us like we were playing a tactical game of tennis.
After a moment or two she stood up. “I think I’ll just freshen up this pot,” she said. “If you’ll excuse me?”
When she’d followed Friday into the kitchen, and pulled the door to – but not all the way shut, I noticed – behind her, I raised my eyebrow in MacMillan’s direction.
“Well?” I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my jeans. “What do you want?”
The Superintendent shot a cuff, straightened up one of his cufflinks. He regarded me carefully for a moment, and then he dropped it on me.
“I want you to tell me all about Sean Meyer,” he said.
I felt the involuntary stiffening of my spine, like it had just been scaled by a fast-moving frost. “Well, what you’re going to get,” I said, managing to keep my voice level, “is me telling you to go to hell.”
He raised an eyebrow at that. “I wasn’t referring to your past – association with him,” he said, choosing his words with care. “I’m talking about now. The last few weeks.”
I knew I should relax, come off the defensive, but I couldn’t help it. I just glared at him.
After a few moments the Superintendent sighed. “Look, Charlie, I’m not your enemy,” he said, spreading his hands. “When are you going to start trusting me?”
Probably never. I didn’t speak the words out loud, but judging by his face I might as well have done. “Why are you suddenly so interested in Sean?”
“Because the boy we arrested for his part in the assault on one of your neighbours was Meyer’s younger brother, Roger, as I’m sure you’re aware,” he pointed out mildly. “Because it would appear that Nasir Gadatra was a known associate of Roger, and was possibly the one who was leading him into trouble. And because Nasir is now dead.”
“And you think Sean killed him?” I asked. It wasn’t such a leap in the dark, I suppose. I’d jumped to much the same conclusion myself. Still, I had to try my best. “That’s a bit of a long shot, isn’t it? Metaphorically speaking, of course.”
“Not really. There are certain people in the local community who are prepared to talk to us,” he said coyly, “and the information we’ve received strongly suggests Meyer’s involvement in the killing.”
I digested that one in silence. It would seem that whoever had put Jav up to dishing the dirt to me about Sean now had a more ambitious agenda. I wondered briefly if Langford really could be behind it all. If only Madeleine hadn’t put it to Jav like that. If only we could be sure . . .
I glanced up at the Superintendent, swallowed, and said, “Sean can’t have been involved, because the night Nasir was shot, he was with me.”
I saw the look on his face and added quickly, “I was at the gym working late and he called in to see me there, that’s all, but we had a break-in and I had to call the boss out. And before you ask, no we didn’t ring the police – it was just kids breaking windows – but Attila did call a glazier, so they should have some record, if you want to check.”
MacMillan sighed again, and took his time considering before he spoke. “Are you quite sure you want to give the man an alibi, Charlie?” he said gently at last, and there was almost a hint of sadness in his tone. “I’ve seen your army record, and the trial transcripts, as a matter of fact. I would have thought if anyone wanted to see Meyer taken down it would be you.”
How the hell did he know that? I tried not to flinch, riding out what must have been a best guess. Oh he was clever, all right, dropping in supposition and presenting it as fact. “Life is never simple,” I said.
His face shuttered down, as though he’d given me my chance, and I’d blown it. He stood up, just as Pauline made a timely reappearance with her refilled teapot. He said his polite goodbyes, then moved to the front door. I followed him into the hallway, partly just to make sure he went.
MacMillan got as far as turning the handle, then paused on the doorstep. “Once we’ve got hold of Meyer you will, of course, be required to come in and make a sworn statement to confirm the story you’ve just told me,” he said. I thought I caught the barest hint of a smile, but it could have been a trick of the light. “I’ll give you until then to change your mind, at least.”
I watched his back as he walked down the short driveway and climbed into the passenger seat of the Vauxhall, but he didn’t look back.
Pauline was still in the living room when I got back there.