Pearce answers for me. ‘He was looking after his aunt, i.e. doing fuck all while she slept.’
‘No, I wasn’t. I was working on a book.’ Because I was, in a way. Book three.
‘Oh, are you a published author?’ asks Huhne. I wonder if she will ask for my autograph if I say yes.
‘No,’ I say. ‘Not yet. But I will be soon. I’m working on something new. My best work yet.’
‘I’ve always wanted to write a novel,’ says Pearce.
‘You need convincing characters,’ I tell him. I consider telling him about the method, then think better of it. I’m still not sure how that’s going to end.
‘Ah, sod it. And here I was, just thinking I could write about all the fiction you spin us,’ says Pearce.
I shift in my seat.
‘Don’t worry, Danny boy. I’m messing with you. We’ve no reason to believe you’re lying about this one, have we, Debbie?’
‘Not about this one,’ she says. I think she is still thinking about the February 19th question. ‘But we’ll be keeping an eye on you.’
‘Am I free to go?’ I ask Pearce.
‘Yes,’ says Pearce.
‘For now,’ adds Huhne. I can’t tell whether it’s a line from police school or whether she means it.
I get out of the car. ‘I’ll be keeping an eye on you, too, Debbie,’ I say. It’s meant to be a pick-up, but she doesn’t respond. Pearce, does though, chuckling to himself.
‘A man after my own heart,’ he says.
I slam the door shut and follow the brown VW with my eyes as it drives away.
It leads me down the street, where I see a flash of red. This time, it is Nicole.
We stand at opposite ends of the street, Nicole and I.
The grown-up thing to do would be for me to walk up to her and confront her, before she can go back inside. Ask her if she is telling stories to the police. Ask her what Adam would say. Ask her if she really intends to rob me of my liberty. That would not help me with my quest, though. Or rather, the second quest. The first quest was in book three – I realised that at the time, that it was one of those sorts of stories. This one, I suppose, is a quest too. One per book is a suitable ratio. This time, the elixir Luke must return with, as they used to say in those writing classes, is a woman. And Nicole is the woman. So I must journey to her centre, return with what I need, for Luke, to understand, the closeness. And for me to get my Adam fix.
The immature – and more useful – approach, which I intend to take, is just to turn away, back to the station. To pretend none of it has happened. I am just about to do this when the red blob starts walking towards me.
‘Dan,’ she calls. ‘Hi there!’
Is this normal? Being greeted by a person who has presumably just told the police she suspects you of being at best a careless driver and a liar, at worst a murderer?
There is still time to turn, to pretend I haven’t heard her, to rush back to the station in pursuit of a train. Playing hard to get, or something, it can be. But instead, I stay where I am, and let her come to me.
‘What brings you here?’ she asks.
So. She is playing the innocent.
‘The police,’ I say, wanting to see her reaction.
She handles it well.
‘The police?’ she asks, eyes wide. Not quite as wide as when she looked at me after the dodgems, but wide enough.
‘They threatened to handcuff me,’ I say.
‘But what for?’ she asks.
‘Do you like handcuffs, Nicole?’ I ask, since we are doing direct questioning.
‘What for?’ she repeats.
‘For the person not wearing the handcuffs to do all sort of exotic things to the person wearing them,’ I say, pretending I think we’re not talking about the police.
‘What were the police here for, Dan?’ she persists.
DS Pearce is much better at this kind of thing than I am. Maybe that’s because he is actually attracted to the person he is sleazing at. I need the practice.
‘About Helen,’ I say.
‘Helen?’ Nicole repeats at me. I think I see the flicker of satisfaction around the edge of her lips. Well, I’m not going to let her have that satisfaction.
‘Someone gave them a tip-off about me. But they don’t believe it. Just going through the motions. Their words, not mine.’
Nicole does a little frown, so quick you wouldn’t notice, unless you were looking for it. But she will not give up that easily in her little game.
‘You, involved in Helen’s death?’ she asks. ‘Why on earth would they think that?’
‘I told you,’ I say. ‘They don’t.’
‘Oh,’ she says. ‘I mean, that’s good. I can’t imagine, you doing that to Adam. To Helen.’
‘Can’t you?’ I ask, trying to get her to hold my gaze.
She manages it. ‘No,’ she says. ‘Still,’ she continues, ‘the police should take it seriously, any fresh information.’
I shrug. ‘Not if it’s without foundation.’
‘But how do they know, unless they investigate?’
I want to ask ‘So you think they’d find I killed Helen, then, if they investigate it, this little tip-off of yours?’ But if I do that, I might as well abandon book four. She’ll think I’m out for her blood. For that book, when it comes to it, I can gag and I can bind to my character’s content, stop her telling little tales. She will have handcuffs then, whether she likes it or not:
The ties are fast around her mouth. Next door, the water boils, for their feast. The lobster, restrained, will soon be ready. There’ll just be time to finish devouring, before her husband arrives.
Nicole keeps speaking, making the most of her current freedom.
‘You won’t mind me not asking you in for tea, will you?’ she says. ‘It’s just that I’m on my way out and …’
She casts her eyes down to the pavement. If she really doesn’t want to look at me, I’d be happy to blindfold her. That’s part of the plot of book four too.
‘Sure,’ I say. ‘I understand. You can walk with me to the station.’
She flicks her eyes up, panicked. ‘Actually, I just need to pick up one or two things from inside. I don’t want to keep you.’
Very well, then. I’ll visit Adam in the City. Nicole will be a slow burn. The flames will keep flickering beneath her, I’ll be sure of that – she won’t keep me from visiting Adam, visiting her. It is through Adam I will win her. For Luke, always for Luke. And it is through her I will again be close to Adam.
This time, as I walk back to the station, there is no comforting feeling of a benevolent eye. Pearce is watching me. Huhne is watching me. Nicole follows me all the way from Narcissus Road. She disguises it well. Every time I turn around, and see that flash of red, there is just a pillar box, or a holly bush, or a robin redbreast. She hides that split-second before I turn round, you see. She has chosen her urban camouflage wisely. She’ll follow me until she finds what she’s looking for. Good, in a way, if she likes to get close. That’s what I’m after.