Complicit (37 page)

As I stepped down from the stage, Danielle appeared in front of me and threw her arms around me. Her hair smelled of roses. ‘You did a wonderful thing for me,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’

What would I have given to go back in time and for her not to ask me? Or for her to ask me and for me to say no? Anything. Everything. ‘You’re welcome,’ I said.

I went over to the bar. I was trembling and needed another drink to calm me down. I would have liked vodka or whisky but there was only champagne. It was so stingy and bubbly that it was hard for me to drink it as quickly as I needed to. It took me several gulps to drain the glass.

‘That was very good,’ said a voice beside me.

I turned to look, and the face was so unexpected and out of context that at first I didn’t recognize it. Then I did. It was Joy Wallis. The detective.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘I wanted to talk to you,’ she said, ‘and, although it’s unorthodox I know, I thought it would be fun to see you at work. And it was.’

‘Thank you.’

‘What actually is a jambalaya?’ she said.

‘I’m not sure,’ I said. ‘I only played the song. It’s something you do on the bayou.’

‘Is it something you eat?’ said Joy. ‘Or something you dance to?’

‘I thought it was something you go to. Like a party.’

Joy looked around. ‘Is this a sort of jambalaya?’

‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘What did you want to ask me?’

‘Not ask you,’ said Joy. ‘Tell you. I felt a bit guilty. Maybe we were a bit hard on you.’

‘I’m just sorry I couldn’t be more help,’ I said. ‘How’s it going?’

‘It’s not really going. I’m moving on to a different inquiry.’

‘I noticed all the media attention had died away. How quickly stories cease to matter. Is it being wound up?’

‘Murder inquiries are never wound up,’ said Joy. ‘Scaled down a bit. I think the boss is starting to think that a drugs deal went wrong somewhere. The car left in the airport, the mysterious woman who drove it there. Your friend knew some unpleasant people. And he was a bit careless with money.’

‘That’s true,’ I said. I was about to say goodbye when I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked round. It was Liza, dressed in a very red, very short dress, with lipstick to match. ‘You’re back,’ I said. ‘I didn’t know.’

She gave me a hug. ‘I was always going to be back,’ she said. ‘I only just got here in time. I wasn’t going to miss seeing you. That was fantastic. I can’t believe you got that all together. I heard what happened to your musician. What a terrible, terrible thing.’

‘Yes,’ I said, willing her to shut up.

‘You have to tell me all about it.’

‘Another time.’

‘Of course.’

‘This is my friend Liza,’ I said. ‘Liza, this is Detective Inspector Wallis.’

Liza gave a theatrical gasp. ‘Am I interrupting something important?’

‘It’s fine.’ I turned to Joy. ‘Liza was there when Danielle dragooned me into doing this. How was abroad, Liza?’

‘Completely mind-blowing,’ she said. ‘Life-changing. I’m going to invite you round and tell you about it in complete detail. And the flat looks great. The plants are in better shape than they were when I left.’

‘Good,’ I said.

Liza looked at Joy. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘You probably have important things to talk about.’ She hovered expectantly, but when I didn’t contradict her, said, ‘Right, I’m going to circulate.’ She started to move away, then stopped and turned around. ‘Oh, one thing, Bonnie. This is probably stupid, but do you have any idea what happened to my rug?’

Before

On the other side of the road, I saw Neal. He was walking swiftly towards the Underground station, his arms around some kind of bag. His face was strained and wretched and I felt a moment of tenderness and contrition, yet I shrank behind the tree so that he wouldn’t see me. I watched him as he dwindled into the distance before setting off again.

I turned down the little dogleg lane and the noise of the cars and lorries dropped away. It was dark and suddenly quiet. I went round the bend, past the small garage that was closed now, only the sign advertising MOTs and bodywork repairs flapping idly in the wind, and at last I was there. A light shone from the living-room window.

I was going to tell him. I really was going to tell him. Wasn’t I? Yet my flesh ached for his touch and my heart longed for his smile. Just to see him again, just to stand in his arms one more time and feel his breath on my hair, to hear him whisper my name. My love.

The door was open. I stepped inside.