‘I have no interest in getting back together with Parker. He fucked things up royally. And he should know better than to think he can fix things with a few lousy flowers, let alone the creepy messages.’
‘Do you still love him?’
He feels Webley’s gaze on him for a long while.
‘That’s a deep question,’ she says.
‘Love is a deep subject.’
He regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth. This is neither the time nor the place to be getting into conversations about love. In fact, it should never be the right time or place when he’s with Webley.
He’s relieved when she says, ‘Wasn’t Richard the Third also found under a car park? Honestly, I don’t know what those town planners were thinking.’
* * *
Sam Ridley lives in the ground floor flat of a three-storey house. When he comes to the door, the first thing Cody notices about him are his eyes, which are a startling ice-blue, like those of an Arctic wolf. Cody is willing to bet they’re coloured contacts. He is also willing to wager that, even though the man is better-looking than his friend Toby, it’s not enough of a step up to entice Alexa to touch him with a bargepole.
‘Yes?’ Sam says. Actually, it’s more of a demand, as in, Why the hell are you bothering me? Already Cody doesn’t like him.
‘Sam Ridley? Merseyside Police. I’m DS Cody and this is DC Webley. Mind if we come in for a quick chat?’
‘Why? What’s this about?’
Cody maintains his cool. ‘We just have a few questions. We’re investigating a case and your name cropped up.’
‘My name? In what context?’
‘That’s what we’d like to discuss. Are we okay to come inside, or would you prefer to come to the police station?’ It’s a threat that he and other cops keep in reserve for awkward customers, especially those who have never set foot in a police station and who picture it as a place where the truth is extracted with the aid of rubber hoses and water-boarding.
While Sam chews on his options, a neighbour who is ambling past the house slows down to earwig. It seems to act as a trigger for Sam to cooperate.
‘You can come in,’ he says begrudgingly.
He leads them into a flat that is a pleasant contrast with Toby’s pit. Neat, clean, modern. Devoid of mould and comic books. Cody doesn’t expect to be regaled with tea and buttered scones, but he doesn’t even receive the offer of a chair.
He says, ‘We’d like to talk to you about Alexa Selby.’
‘Who?’
It seems to Cody that Sam’s voice is much louder than it needs to be. He wonders whether he always has his volume turned to maximum or he’s got something to be nervous about.
‘Alexa Selby. The woman who ran the body conditioning class you attended at the leisure centre?’
‘Oh. Yes, I remember her name now. What’s happened to her?’
‘What makes you think something’s happened to her?’
Sam gesticulates wildly at the detectives. ‘This! You’re police. You’re in my house. You’re asking about this woman. It’s only a natural assumption, right?’
Cody nods. ‘Yes, you’re right. Something has happened to her. She’s dead.’
‘Dead? Wow. That’s a bit of a shock.’
Cody has seen more convincing reactions in school plays. ‘Yeah, but you already knew about it, didn’t you, Sam?’
‘What? What are you saying? Why would I know about it?’
‘For one thing, it’s all over the news now. But from the way you’re acting, I’m guessing that somebody told you about it a while ago. Who was it, Sam?’
Sam opens his mouth as if to protest, then seems to think better of it.
‘A friend of mine. We were in the same class with Alexa. He told me.’
‘What’s his name?’
‘Toby Hooper.’
‘Is he a good friend?’
‘Not really. I see him in class and sometimes we chat in the café afterwards. But I haven’t seen him for a few weeks.’
‘So when did he tell you about Alexa?’
‘Yesterday. He phoned me up.’
‘So you know him well enough for him to have your phone number?’
Sam says nothing.
