Joel pulled up a chair. He smiled at the girl as she sat up in bed with a resentful scowl. Her hair was tousled. Her face was pallid, almost white.
‘Detective Inspector Solomon. Actually, Kate, it’s you I wanted to talk about.’
‘What for?’
‘I’ve been speaking to Dec Maddon about reported incidents last night at a party that he says you and he both attended. I was wondering what you could tell me about it.’
‘He’s a bloody liar,’ Gillian Hawthorne cut in irritably. ‘We’ve already been over and over this with you people. I mean, is there nobody in Thames Valley Police who can understand plain English?’
‘Please, Mrs Hawthorne.’ Joel turned back to Kate and spoke softly. ‘I’d appreciate it if we could go through it again. Just one more time, okay?’
Kate grimaced. ‘I don’t know what Dec was on about. I came straight home. I didn’t go to any party.’ She said it very carefully, as if she was reciting prepared lines.
‘You’re sure?’
She nodded.
‘How did you get home?’
‘I took a taxi.’
‘What time?’
‘I don’t remember,’ she groaned. ‘It was late.’
‘Where did you take the taxi from?’
‘Somewhere. I was walking.’
‘So you called the cab company on your phone?’
‘Yes. No.’
‘Which is it?’
‘My head’s hurting.’
‘Why are you asking her all this?’ Gillian said.
‘I’m just trying to understand what happened,’ Joel replied, keeping his tone gentle.
Gillian gave a snort. ‘What happened is that nothing happened.’
‘I called them,’ Kate said. ‘I remember now.’
‘That’s good. I can make enquiries and find out the name of the taxi firm,’ he said, watching her face. ‘That way I can find out where they picked you up from.’
She flushed at his words. ‘Oh…hang on. No. I thumbed a lift.’
The bluff had worked. ‘So you didn’t take a taxi after all.’
‘No.’
‘Who gave you a lift?’
‘I don’t know. A man.’
‘What happened to your neck?’ he asked. ‘Did someone hurt you?’
Kate immediately covered her neck with the collar of her pyjama top. Something flashed in her eyes. Not a look of embarrassment, the way a self-conscious teenager might have reacted. It was a flash of hard white anger, animal rage.
‘I fell,’ she said in a strange voice.
‘It looks like a bite.’
‘I’m telling you that I fell. Against a barbed wire fence.’ The tone in her voice was suddenly harsh.
‘Maybe you should let a doctor see that. It looks nasty.’
‘I don’t need a doctor,’ she shot back.
‘If there’s anything you’d like to tell me about what happened at the party,’ Joel said, ‘remember you won’t be in any trouble.’
‘Nothing happened at the party.’
‘So you were at the party. Dec was telling the truth.’
‘No!’
‘But you just said you were. I need to know where the party was, Kate. Exactly what happened, and who else was there. It’s very important.’
‘You’re confusing me! I don’t understand what these questions are about!’
‘Why are you making up stories, Kate? Are you trying to protect someone?’
Kate glared at him. The rage in her eyes burned intensely. For a second it was like being face to face with a snarling dog, and Joel almost backed away.
‘Go fuck yourself,’ she spat. Then burst into tears. She fell down onto the pillow, shaking and sobbing. Her mother rallied to her side, glaring indignantly at Joel.
‘You’re upsetting my daughter, Inspector. I’d also like to know what these questions are in aid of. Is this an official police line of enquiry? Because if it’s not, I think you should be aware that my husband is a very senior solicitor and that we know our rights.’
Joel stood up. ‘I’m sorry if I upset you,’ he said to Kate. ‘I’ll leave you in peace now. Thanks for talking to me.’
Gillian Hawthorne couldn’t see him out the front door fast enough. Outside, it was getting colder and the night fog was settling in again, wisping like smoke around the streetlamps.
Joel stopped on the doorstep. ‘Out of interest, Mrs Hawthorne, did you put the safety pins on her curtains?’
‘If it’s any of your business, she did it herself. She says the light hurts her.’
‘We had the lights on in her room.’
‘Not those,’ she said impatiently. ‘Just the sunlight.’
‘Since when?’
‘Just this morning. She’ll be fine. She probably has a touch of that new type of flu that’s going round.’
‘I’m sure you’re right, Mrs Hawthorne. I hope she gets well soon.’ He turned to go, conscious of her glare following him. He already knew what his next move was going to be. What it could only be. He stopped and turned back. She was still glowering at him.
‘One last question, Mrs Hawthorne. Do you own a dog?’
‘A dog?’ She frowned. ‘Of course I don’t bloody own a dog. Why would you ask me that?’
‘Thanks for your help,’ he smiled, and started walking back to the bike.
After his hurried trip back from Italy to the UK, Jeremy Lonsdale had called Seymour Finch with great trepidation. The appointment to see Mr Stone had been set for eight thirty that same evening.
It was only now, as he sat hunched in one of the leather armchairs in Stone’s library watching the logs crackle in the fire, that the real fear was beginning to take him. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking, and a twitch in his left leg was making his knee bounce up and down uncontrollably. He needed a drink, but Finch had ushered him in with barely a word and had offered him nothing. Did they somehow know what was in his mind? That was a terrifying thought.
‘You wanted to see me.’ Stone’s voice came from behind him, calm and soft.
Lonsdale started and whipped round. The vampire was standing there in a long silk robe over black trousers. The robe was open enough at the chest to show his toned pectoral muscles.
‘What a surprise, Jeremy, to see you back so soon from Italy. To what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit?’
‘There’s something we have to discuss,’ Lonsdale blurted out.
Stone walked slowly across the room and leaned on the mantelpiece. A smile crept over his lips, and the twinkle in his eye was more than just the reflection of the firelight.