‘What?’ Oh, God, he’s found out.
‘I know you’re not at Nadine’s. I’ve got the fucking police here. They want you to go in for further questioning. I found your address book and looked up Nadine because that’s where you told me you were. And, guess what? You’re not actually there! She’s even more surprised than I am. She hasn’t heard from you in months!’ The hiss has gone and Luke is in full rage mode. This never happens. The last time he flipped like this was when … ah yes … was when his portrait of Alice was slashed. ‘Clare? Are you still there?’
‘Yes. I’m here.’
‘Care to share where the fuck here is?’
I ignore his question. I don’t really want to have to explain myself. Not yet. Not until I know for certain what happened over here. ‘What do the police want to question me about?’
‘Vandalising Pippa’s car.’
‘Not that again.’
‘They’ve looked at the CCTV and have you on film going into the garage and coming out a few minutes later with the aerosol can in your hand.’
‘That’s impossible. I’ve told you before, I didn’t do it.’
‘They have evidence, Clare. Didn’t you hear me? CCTV evidence.’ His tone conveys a mix of anger and exasperation. ‘Get your arse back here now.’ I can hear voices in the background. Luke speaks again. ‘The police want to know where you are and how long you’ll be.’
I drum my fingers anxiously on the table. ‘I’ll be back Wednesday.’
‘I don’t think they want to wait until then. How about you make it this afternoon.’
‘I can’t.’
Then I hear the phone being passed over to someone else.
‘Mrs Tennison?’ says a female voice I recognise as the police officer from the other day. ‘This is Police Constable Evans here. We spoke about the damage to Pippa Stent’s vehicle.’
‘Yes. Hello.’
‘As your husband has just explained, we have further evidence to support the accusation that you vandalised Mrs Stent’s car and we would like you to come in for further questioning. You may remember, we did say that you should make yourself available for further questioning and someone in your line of work shouldn’t really need this spelled out.’
‘I know, but I can’t come in before Wednesday.’ Time to come clean. I can’t put it off any longer. ‘I’m not in the country and I haven’t got a return flight until Tuesday night. I could be with you by mid-morning Wednesday.’
‘Mrs Tennison, flying out of the country isn’t really acceptable.’
I cut in. ‘It’s perfectly acceptable. I am not under arrest. I haven’t been charged with anything. I haven’t been cautioned. You never told me not to leave the country. Technically, I have not done anything wrong.’
‘I can’t say I’m very happy.’
‘That’s as may be, but as soon as I’m in the UK, I’ll let you know. Now, please hand me back to my husband.’
‘What the hell is going on?’ It’s Luke. ‘Where are you?’
‘I’m in America,’ I say. I carry on talking despite his spluttering disbelief. ‘I’ll be back Wednesday. We’ll talk then.’ I end the call. What a nightmare. I think about the new evidence and wonder how the hell they have me on CCTV going into the garage.
I look at the envelope that Roma left still on the table. I’ll worry about CCTV later, for now I’m dying to see the photographs. I empty the contents in front of me. Half a dozen photographs spill out. I spread them out with my fingertips.
At first I don’t understand what I’m looking at. It takes a moment for me to process the information.
These are all pictures of Martha Munroe. Alice’s friend. The same girl in the picture with her that she first sent Mum.
It seems as though my brain is taking forever to rationalise and order these thoughts but, in reality, it’s only a second.
The truth hits me. What I had suspected somewhere in the back of my mind is no longer a nagging doubt. It has morphed into a real-life threat. I feel physically sick and for a moment I can feel my cool legal head melt into a morass of panic and fear.
Chapter 22
I don’t know how I make it back to my motel room. I guess I’m on autopilot. I can’t think straight; all I can think about is the mess everything seems to be over here. It’s hard to take in what I’ve found out.
I throw my bag onto the bed and sink into the overly soft mattress. I tip the contents out and examine them again.
Photographs from Roma
Copy photo of Alice and Martha together
Travel list
Pay slip
Business card
Contact lens box
I fan the photographs out before me.
I single out a portrait shot of her. She’s looking at the camera and smiling. I take the photograph of Alice and Martha together.