think about someone new. And then, I don’t know what he (another spiteful look at me) said to her, but she wouldn’t talk to him, and Mark had to calm her down and…
But it can’t have happened like that! I shouted. I mean, I found them together, then Mark, he was covered in blood…
So you say! Lou screamed, but you’re the one with the bloody t-shirt aren’t you!
Beryl smacked her hands together – Enough! We’re not going to get to the bottom of this here, are we? Beryl looked at Lou. Do you have a photo, any info about, erm, Mark? I can get someone to look at it. No, I can look at it myself. You (she turned to me) – get your story straight. And get this place cleaned up. Thanks (getting a photo from Lou – then a silence – then a deep breath) – I know this guy? Do I know this guy? For the first time, Beryl looked nonplussed – puzzled and even slightly concerned.
What did you say he did? (Beryl asked Lou)
He’s a lawyer.
Yeah, but … (I started, but Lou hissed at me).
Beryl looked at both of us, then turned to Lou. Look, lady, I don’t know you, and I’m not sure what’s happened between the two of you, but Sylvain, he’s my friend, and I look out for him. And I will help you find your husband again, if only for Sylvain’s sake, and because I think he needs to avoid getting any deeper than he already is. And I will find this girl, and find out what happened to her, too. But… you have to level with me, and tell me everything. Understand? Oh, for crying out loud what is that now?
Your one phone call, and the only person you can think of is me? What good am I going to do you, Sylvain? Seriously. I mean, I’m not even sure I want to talk to you. You lied to me, despite everything, didn’t you? You only told me half the story! Of course Louise talked to me, of course she would, what did you expect? What do you want me to do, Sylvain? You want me to find you a lawyer? I can try and do that. But that’s it, you understand. No more. The click then the purr of the dialling tone and I realised she’d hung up on me. After ten years of failed marriage and two years of failed separation, this was the first time, ever, that she had hung up on me. Was I to take this as a sign of things getting worse? As an inevitable step into the final death throes of our relationship? None of it’s true, I had wanted to say to her, wanted to shout. Whatever Lou thinks, she’s got it wrong! She was just confused, I don’t know why she thought those things, but I only wanted to help her. That’s all. I wanted to help her and I wanted you back, I didn’t want anything else, none of it, not the drugs, not the suit, nothing, I just wanted you to see me differently, I wanted you to realise that there was a spark inside me, I wanted you to see me with wonder and excitement, or at the very least, passion and rage, instead of sadness and disappointment.
But I didn’t say any of those things, on my one call, I didn’t say anything except It’s Sylvain, and listened to her breath catch and then the inevitable flurry that has just led me to here, and now. I was pulled back in, after a couple of minutes holding the receiver in my hand, expecting it to change its mind and reconnect me, and after the inevitable disappointment I found myself back in the interview room, as dull and nondescript a place as you can imagine. I wonder if ever there were a picture of Hell, it shouldn’t be of fire and brimstone, rather it should be the inside of a police interview room, painted in a dirty yellow, with a single lamp dimly lighting a broken wooden table and the uncomfortable chairs either side, with the dank smell and the sticky floor and the odour of cigarettes, burnt coffee and sweat making you want to retch. They put you in there and leave you there for a while, alone, with a cup of tepid water and an empty packet of cigarettes, and they wait and watch you. I am sure that this is what the police do and they are very good at it, and when I’m finished, if I’m at all in a position to influence these things I will find those policemen and I will make my own cell and I will make them suffer. Those policemen came in after about an hour of me staring at the wall, and they sat down opposite me. These were the same two who had arrested me ‘on suspicion of doing something very bad’ when they had seen the state of my flat, the bloodstained clothes and the bloody handprints, and concluded, perhaps not unwisely, that this may be connected to the disappearance they were investigating. The presence of Lou there as well, in a hysterical mood and only just being prevented by Beryl from screaming ‘Arrest him, he’s the murderer!’ really didn’t help matters, and so I was taken down to the station to help them with their enquiries. That this consisted of being thrown in a dark and dirty cell, left without water or food or light for what seemed to be days, then dragged into this room for questioning, seriously undermined the meaning of the word Help in my opinion, but they definitely weren’t asking for that. Then I got my phone call and then I was chucked in that room for an hour and then, eventually, they turned up, flash policemen in flash uniforms, wearing sunglasses in the dark, bristling with attitude and spoiling for a fight. Especially the one sitting to my right – Justin Dredd his name, and he wore his attitude like a sword and armour. He carried two cups of coffee, and they sipped them as they stared at me. The other guy, Phil Maker, started. I think they liked playing good cop, bad cop, except I think they were both bad, but at least Dredd didn’t try and cover it up.
Maker: So, Sylvain, may I call you Sylvain, he started, it seems we have a bit of a situation. It looks like we found a bit of a mess in your flat, didn’t we? Apartment, sorry. I should really call it an apartment. I mean, it’s very nice, isn’t it, with its split level, and its balcony and its views of the hills. We like those sort of things, don’t we Justin? We appreciate the finer things in life….
Dredd: Except when they’re a murder scene
Maker: Now, Justin, let’s not jump to conclusions, let’s hear what Sylvain has to say first…
Dredd: I really don’t see the point, it’ll just be more lies
Me: But I haven’t said anything yet!
Dredd: The sign of a guilty man.
Maker: Okay, Okay, let’s not get carried away. Although I must admit…
Me: I didn’t kill him!
Maker: Oh. Oh, well that’s interesting. I don’t recall us accusing you of killing anyone, do you, Justin?
Dredd: (growl)
Me: But… you…
Maker: Enlighten me, Sylvain. Who is it that you didn’t kill?
Me (gulping): No one?
Maker (smiling): Oh, Sylvain, you’ll have to do better than that.
Dredd: Just tell us what you did with the body.
Me: What body?
Maker: Whose blood was it on your walls?
Me: Mine!
Dredd: Go in for savage parties, do you?
Me: What?
Dredd: You invited a few friends round? Thought you’d push the boat out? A few sex games, was it? Went a bit too far? Easy step from there to cannibalism. What better way to dispose of the corpse. You and your perverted friends cut him up and had him on toast? Then thought you’d go for a bit of gore fest decoration? Shame for you they all left without cleaning it up, and you didn’t think to, before we came calling. Think you’re above the law, do you, Jones? Is that it? Phil, these sorts of people really disgust me. They think they can do anything and get away with it. Lucky we turned up when we did otherwise he’d probably be standing for Prime Minister next. That right, Jones? You got political ambitions, have you? Think of yourself as a leader of men? Some leader you turned out to be. Think if the masses could see you now. Dirty, filthy, stinking, rotting, made to pay for your crimes. How do you feel about that, Prime Minister Jones?
Maker (head slightly in his hands): Justin, I think maybe we’re getting ahead of ourselves. I don’t think we should go down the cannibalism route just yet.
Dredd: No? Then what did he do with the body?
Maker: We’ll get to that. (Turning back to me) Now, Sylvain, what can you tell us about Mark Forth?
Me: Well… he’s a good friend. Erm, he’s a lawyer, with Arnold and Partners. We… we went to university together, and you know, we’ve been
friends ever since.
Maker: And…?
Me: And… well, Lou, that is Louise, his wife, she told me he had disappeared. Last… Thursday?
Maker: And what can you tell us about Mr Forth’s disappearance?
Me (sweating massively): Erm… nothing? I mean, I really don’t know anything!
Maker: Nothing. Well, that’s interesting. Are you sure about that?
Dredd: Yeah… you sure?
Me: Erm… I think I want to talk to a lawyer.
Maker: Oh, Justin. He wants to talk to a lawyer.
Dredd: Our company not good enough for him?
Maker: Apparently not.
Dredd: Stuck up little runt.
Maker: Now Justin, he’s not that little.
Dredd (caressing a fist): He will be when I’m finished with him.
Maker (raising his eyebrows): Thing is, Sylvain…We have a little bit of a problem there. You see, your friend Mark Forth, he was a lawyer.
Dredd: All the way through.
Maker: Great lawyer, apparently.
Dredd: And a loving husband.
Maker: Great shame, really.
Dredd: He’ll be missed.
Maker: So you see our problem, Sylvain?
Me: Erm… no?
Maker: A lawyer disappears, presumed dead…
Dredd: Eaten by your cannibal friends
Maker: We can’t just give you another one when one’s disappeared.
Dredd: It’s not like they grow on trees.
Maker: So I’m afraid you’re going to have to do without…
An Innocent Man Page 28
