Courtney shakes her head. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I love a mystery but this is too close to the bone now. People have died. My best friend has been murdered. This isn’t a game. Maybe we should leave it to the police.’
‘You’re right.’ I curl my fingers around my mug. Suddenly I remember something Daisy said to me the first time I met her. ‘She told me Elspeth sacked her boyfriend. She sounded … I don’t know … bitter about it.’
Courtney turns to me with a frown. ‘Who?’
‘Louis. No. Lewis. Lewis something.’
‘Lewis?’
‘Did Una mention him?’
Courtney leans over to place her cup on the little side table next to the sofa. A Black Jack slides onto the carpet but she doesn’t notice. ‘Actually, yes, she did. She said he was hot. But she hardly knew him. She’d only been there a day or so before he was sacked. Peter had told her that Jemima was in love with someone, and Una thought it might have been Lewis but it wasn’t. Lewis said they’d dated for a bit but not seriously, and then they’d split up.’
‘Can you remember what else Una said about him?’
Courtney pushes back her hair anxiously. ‘Oh, God, let me think … No. Nothing else, really. I think she liked him but she hardly knew him. Anyway, Una found what she thought was Jemima’s bag in the cellar of Elspeth’s house. She told me Kathryn had come into the cellar while she was there and acted all weird. She believed that Kathryn had stowed the bag there, so when she went home Una took it and hid it in her room. Kathryn obviously found it and hid it at the gallery. I honestly don’t think it has anything to do with Daisy and Lewis, even if they are dating.’
Before I can reply we hear the front door slam and male voices in the hallway. I notice Courtney’s eyes flicker to the large wall clock in the kitchen. It’s only eleven but feels much later. ‘Looks like Kris has brought his mates home,’ she says, but it’s only Vince who follows him into the living room.
‘You’re back early,’ says Kris, with a wide grin, addressing Courtney. ‘I thought you’d be out ages playing Miss Marple.’
Vince doesn’t say anything but gazes at his feet, cheeks flushed.
Courtney ignores Kris and says to Vince, ‘You remember Willow?’
‘Of course, hi.’ He looks up and smiles at me shyly. My heart beats faster. It’s ridiculous – I can’t have a crush on Una’s ex-boyfriend! It’s just too weird.
There’s not enough room for them on the sofa so they turn the kitchen chairs around so that they’re facing us. Vince is wearing a chunky black leather jacket and a T-shirt advertising a band I’ve never heard of. His jeans are tight. He looks around the shabby room, at the woodchip walls and the drab brown curtains, his gaze landing on a framed photo of Courtney and Una, their arms around each other and pouting for the camera. It hits me now how closely I resemble her. ‘This is the first time I’ve been here since – since Una and I split up,’ he says, his tone strained.
Nobody says anything, and I suddenly feel awkward, like an intruder when I realize they must often have made a foursome.
I watch him as he scratches the back of his neck, where his dirty-blond hair touches the collar of his jacket, and wonder what happened to the money Vince owed Una. Did her debts clear with her death? Does he feel guilty for making the last few months of her life stressful?
Kris gets up from his seat and bounds over to the fridge. I’m sure he’s on something. ‘Beer, anyone?’
Courtney and I decline, but Vince nods and takes a can from him.
‘So, did you find out anything interesting from Peter the Plod?’ asks Kris.
‘He’s not a cop, he’s a firefighter …’ I begin, but catch Courtney’s eye. She’s subtly shaking her head. Oh, I see. Kris is being facetious. It’s totally inappropriate and I decide I don’t like him.
‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ says Courtney, primly.
Kris turns to Vince. ‘Oooh, she doesn’t want to talk about it!’ He laughs. ‘Did I tell you she thinks Una was murdered?’
I wince at his insensitivity.
‘Yes – and I –’ stutters Vince.
‘The police believe it now too,’ snaps Courtney, her large chestnut eyes flashing. ‘So I’m not the lunatic you make me out to be. You know, Kris, some support might have been nice.’
He rolls his eyes theatrically. ‘Support!’ He chuckles but there’s no warmth in it. ‘I’ve been living here with you, haven’t I? Helping with the rent when Una left you in the lurch to live in that Cuckoo house?’
Vince shakes his head. ‘Mate, that’s too far.’
He shrugs in a what-do-you-want-me-to-say? kind of way.
I’ve had enough. ‘I don’t know why you’re not taking it seriously,’ I pipe up. ‘Someone was seen on the bridge with Jemima the night she died so it’s doubtful it was suicide. And the police think Una wasn’t alone either.’
‘It’s what I’ve been saying all along,’ interjects Courtney. ‘Someone lured Una onto the bridge, pretending to be Peter.’
Vince pales. Then, ‘Well, who knew Una was in touch with Peter?’
‘Kathryn did. She was cross that Una was in touch with him and that she’d had the gall to question her about a necklace.’ She fills me in on the locket Una found in her room with a photo of Jemima inside it.
‘That solves the mystery, then, doesn’t it?’ says Kris, a smug look on his face. ‘It looks like it’s Kathryn.’ He claps his hands. ‘Anyone for more drinks?’
There’s a shocked silence. Vince opens his mouth to say something, but Courtney stands, drawing herself up to her five foot seven inches, the sweets in her lap slipping to the floor. ‘Get the fuck out of my flat,’ she snarls, her voice low. ‘We’re finished.’
The look on his face is so comically surprised that my first instinct is to laugh.
‘What? What did I say?’
‘You’re not exactly sensitive, mate,’ says Vince, also standing up. A muscle throbs in his jaw and I can see he’s upset. ‘We cared – fuck it, we loved Una, even if you didn’t give a shit about her.’
‘Hold on a minute …’
‘Get out,’ repeats Courtney. ‘I mean it.’
Kris reluctantly gets to his feet. ‘Fine. I’ll go and stay with Stan. Just until you’ve cooled off.’ He heads into Una’s old room.