‘It’s the heat, I think. Fate turns into karma at forty degrees.’
‘Excuse me,’ said Ricky, interrupting us. ‘Can I borrow you? Need a strong pair of hands for the keg …’ He started off towards the house before I could answer.
‘Do you think he was talking to you or me?’ I said to the girl. She smiled and I followed him. We stepped into the cool shade of the porch, standing between stacks of cakes, bottles and buffet foods, in a corner. When Ricky turned he looked as stiff as his starched shirt.
‘What happened?’
‘An old friend …’ I said.
‘Very funny. Sian said it was at The Temple. You wrecked the place.’ I nodded. ‘She had to go to the owner and beg him not to press charges against you.’ I didn’t say anything. ‘She could have got hurt.’
‘I know that.’
‘She thought you’d gone mad.’
I hesitated. ‘I know that.’
‘And I thought we had an agreement.’ When he said this he sounded so much like a little boy doing an impersonation of his successful, business-class parents that I felt sorry for him.
‘And she told me that you showed her the pictures anyway,’ I said. He reddened. ‘That’s a good thing. It means you’re not starting this off on a lie. I’m here because she asked me to be, and because I owe her that much. But I agree with you. She could have got hurt. So when I fade out of the picture, it’ll be because I decided to. And in ten years’ time when you’re happy together, you won’t have to wonder if it’s because you blackmailed her ex. Look after her,’ I said, backing out of the room. ‘We probably won’t be seeing each other around …’
‘Hang on, have a drink.’ He pulled a fresh bottle of champagne from an ice bucket. I shook my head and walked away. ‘Did she spend Friday night with you?’
I stopped. ‘I spent Friday night in the cells, partner.’
‘Saturday day, then. You know what I mean.’
I turned around. ‘Only because you always mean the same fucking thing. What did she tell you?’
‘She said she went to see if you were OK …’
‘So why don’t you believe her? Has she ever given you a reason not to?’ He didn’t say anything. ‘Look, I’ve got to go,’ I said, taking the dripping-wet bottle of champagne from him. ‘I’ll be needing this, though.’ I walked out into a wall of heat and crossed the luminous-green lawn, over to the driveway. I popped the bottle when I was halfway down it and started to drink.
‘You’re not leaving, are you?’
I turned. It was Sian’s friend, who I’d been speaking to earlier.
‘Duty calls,’ I said, unsuccessfully trying to hide the bottle. I gave up and turned to face her. ‘Go back and have some, yeah?’
She smiled and shook her head at me. ‘You’re a lost cause, Aidan Waits.’
IX
Turn on the Light
1
I buzzed the first-floor flat and waited. It was almost lunchtime and Owens Park was quiet, with most of the students either still in bed, sleeping off Sunday night, or attending their first lectures of the week. I’d walked through one or two groups on picnic blankets. Golden-skinned girls, gleaming with suntan cream, their male counterparts going stoically red.
I heard the bolt on the door release and pushed it open.
There was a girl at the top of the stairs who I recognized from my last visit here, when she’d been waiting for a cocktail. It looked like she’d just returned from a morning run. She was sweating, out of breath.
‘Hey,’ she said. ‘Earl’s friend?’
‘Is he around?’
‘Work, I think …’
‘That’s OK, I was actually hoping to speak to Sophie …’
‘Who did you say you were?’
‘If you tell her Detective Constable Waits is here she’ll know what it’s about.’
‘Oh …’ She backed off down the hall and I climbed the stairs. When I reached the top I could hear low voices from Sophie’s room. I pushed the door open enough to talk through.
‘Morning,’ I said. ‘Can we have a word?’
The friend edged out past me and Sophie appeared. She looked trapped, I thought. ‘Sure,’ she said, moving back inside the room. I followed. She sat on the bed, folding her legs beneath her and placed both hands on her lap, each holding the other. I sat on the absurd pink chair at the desk. When she looked at me properly for the first time, she sat up with concern. ‘Your face …’
‘I walked into a door.’
‘A door?’
‘A revolving door. I wanted to give you an update on Ollie Cartwright.’
‘What’s left to say?’
‘Well, he left us on the threat of releasing the sex-tape once he got abroad. That looks unlikely now.’
‘Really? Why?’
‘Mr Cartwright was arrested when he reached Dubai.’
‘I said I didn’t want to make anything official …’
‘It was on an unrelated matter. The local authorities found a large quantity of cocaine in his possession. They take that pretty seriously out there, so it’s unlikely he’ll be back any time soon. For the next few years we’ll be the least of his problems.’ When Sophie’s face altered and she allowed genuine relief to flood into it, I realized her guard had been up since I entered the room. Maybe since I’d first met her. This would probably be our last interaction, and I needed to make something happen.
‘Thank you,’ she said.
‘Don’t thank me. Thank his dealer.’
‘If I could, I would,’ she smiled. ‘I don’t know what to say. It feels wrong to be happy …’
‘I don’t know. Sometimes it’s a relief when a guy hits his natural level. There was one other thing I’ve been meaning to talk to you about, though.’
‘Oh?’ she said, re-clasping her hands.
‘When I went round to see Mr Cartwright last week, after our first conversation, I found your jacket hung up in his flat …’
‘Yeah, I left it there. I told you. My student ID was inside, that’s how he found me.’ She sounded like a drama student reciting her lines.
‘When I returned it, this fell out of your pocket …’
I unfolded the note and handed it to her.
Oliver Cartwright. Ollie. Mid-thirties. Thinning red-brown hair, some paunch. Incognito. 7 p.m.
I saw her breath quicken. ‘Where did you get this?’ She said it with a flash of genuine anger, genuine confusion, that I was surprised to see.
‘Like I said—’
‘I … just …’ She swallowed. Tried to recover. ‘I just didn’t think it was in my jacket pocket …’
I didn’t want her to lie to me so I gave her a nudge towards the truth. ‘That is your handwriting, isn’t it?’
She hesitated. ‘Yeah, I remember now. It was weird. When we were talking in Incognito, he took out a pen and paper. Asked me to write that down …’
‘He asked you to write down his name, his nickname, an unflattering description and where and when to meet him?’ I saw the pupils contracting in her eyes. She didn’t say anything. ‘You know, Sophie, if you actually arranged to meet Ollie Cartwright before he filmed the two of you together, if it was a date or something, that wouldn’t make it any more your fault …’
‘I didn’t,’ she said, fully committing. The pupils were like pinpricks in her eyes. ‘Like I said, he asked me to write it at the table. He wanted it as a memento or something, but I must have left it in my jacket pocket.’ As if to prove the note’s meaninglessness, she lifted it for me to take. She was holding it so tightly that her thumbnail turned white.
‘Keep it,’ I said, as reassuringly as I could. ‘He should be out of your hair for good now, but any problems and you know where I am.’ She didn’t say anything but closed her fist around the note. ‘Don’t you, Sophie?’ She swallowed, nodded. I gave her a half-smile and went to the door.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘For everything.’
She sounded sincere but I thought she looked afraid of me. I descended the stairs with more questions than I’d had on my way in. I decided I needed a cocktail.
2