He watched every move on my face. Did he spot the inexplicable panic stuttering inside me? I’d always been bad at commitment, but what Rocco asked of me, in the circumstances, made me doubt my own judgement. I’d screwed up so many times. “That’s lovely,” I blurted out, “and I’m flattered, but this is so messed up.”
“Then help me straighten it out.”
My phone started to ring. Zach. Flickering with irritation, I cut the call.
“Stay,” Rocco murmured, guaranteed to ensure I wouldn’t resist. “Please,” he said, leaning across, finding my mouth, slow kissing me until my heart jittered and my brain turned liquid.
As we drew apart, a beep from my phone alerted me to a text message. Zach again:
‘URGENT. NEED TO SEE YOU NOW. ON MY WAY TO YOURS’ xx
I let out a groan, texted him back, told him I couldn’t reach him for at least forty minutes. It didn’t take membership of MENSA to work out why Zach needed to see me. In his head he was on a damage limitation exercise or, put another way, out to save his own skin. I explained to Rocco who was incredulous.
“You’re not going?”
“I have to.” Somehow, I had to explain to Zach that the police would want to talk to him and our father.
“Then I’m coming with you.”
I pressed a finger against his lips. “This is my mess to sort.”
“It could be a trap.”
“Zach couldn’t trap a fly. Deep down, he’s a coward. Always has been.”
“But—”
“Tomorrow. I promise. Same time. Same place.”
I put his new number into my phone and kissed him. As I walked away, Rocco’s eye boring into my back, I knew I’d made the wrong call. I was simply too proud to admit it.
Chapter 74
“How did you get here?”
Zach, dressed in a brightly coloured Tropical shirt, sprawled languidly across my doorstep as if he were sunning it in Barbados. He angled his chin in the direction of a dirty camper van parked on the opposite side of the road. Looked like it was held together with baler twine and rust. “Saffron leant it to me.” One of the women in the commune.
Springing to his bare feet, he seemed less twitchy and in control. Perversely, I found this disconcerting.
He followed me down the hall and into the kitchen. I opened the back door in a vain attempt to disperse the heat inside the house. Humid heavy air pushed in. It smelt peculiarly pungent, as if the sea were around the next corner. Dark and heavy clouds banked on the horizon and there was little or no sound. A storm was brewing and the temperature riding high. After the long period of extended hot weather, it would be a monster.
I dispensed soft drinks and we took them into the living room. Zach sat. I stood.
“You said it was urgent.” I took a long deep swallow.
“It’s all fucked up.”
“You drove all this way to tell me that?”
“Molly, can you stop being angry for one second?” I didn’t respond. “Got anything stronger?” he said, staring at his glass. Without a word, I went to the kitchen and, after a rummage, unearthed two dubious-looking bottles of Retsina, the remnants of a Greek holiday. I plonked them in front of Zach. He twisted off the screw top, helped himself and offered me a slug. I didn’t really fancy it but what the hell? I nodded, screwing up my face as the first fiery swallow landed splat on an empty stomach. “God, it tastes like crushed Christmas trees.”
“More like the contents of Tutankhamen’s tomb. Have another glug. It gets better.” For the briefest moment I caught sight of the brother I used to know.
“Do you miss it?” I said.
“What?”
“Drugs.”
He looked at me quizzically, unsure why the conversation had taken an early turn in a direction he hadn’t expected.
“Seriously.”
A smile snuggled in the corners of his mouth. “Never feel more alive than when I’m jacked up.”
I studied him for a moment: my brother, Zach, all loose-limbed and luminous. “You’re talking in the present tense.” I didn’t think it was a Freudian slip.
Confusion scampered across his features. “Am I?” He scrubbed at his head, as if he had a fleabite. “Habit, I guess.”
“I’m not dim, Zach.”
He clicked his tongue. “Nobody could accuse you of that.”
“You’re using again, aren’t you?”
Zach shifted in his seat, took another pull of his drink. Grabbing his elbows, he pitched forward, hugged himself tight.
“I’m not judging.”
“Aren’t you?”
“Chancer supplies you.” My voice was so low I wondered whether Zach would hear. He heard all right.
“Regular Miss Marple, aren’t you?” His nostrils flared, and his mouth was a grimace.
“When did you relapse?”
“Why ask when you already know?”
“Since Scarlet?”
He let out a mirthless laugh. “Since you.” He looked at me through narrowed eyes, yet there was vulnerability too. Zach was terribly afraid, as well he might be. And terrified people, particularly drug addicts, are unpredictable.
I let out a deep sigh and sat down. “Think Chancer was there that night you were with Drea?”
He stuck out his chin, letting me know exactly what a piss-poor idea it was. “Why are you doing this?”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You’re trying to rearrange the blame. Not much of a friend or sister, are you?”
“Friend or family, murder is murder.”
“There you go again. Banging on. What was it Dad said? Making the evidence fit the crime.”
“Let’s leave Dad out of it for now. Chancer could have been there.”
Zach bolted forward. “You’re mad, know that? One hundred per cent tapped.” To make the point he smacked his temple with the flat of his hand.
I took another swallow of booze. So did Zach. He was right. It did improve. Most likely right about my sanity too. Maybe I was cracked.
“Jesus, Molly, I keep telling you.”
“Telling me what?”
“That it was an accident.”
I shook my head, kept chipping away. “Someone else was at the house that night.”
“No.” His knee juddered. Sweat seeped through the fabric of his ‘T-shirt’, making a deep V.
Sudden fear zapped my spine as I leant forward. “Are you protecting him?”
“Chancer? Don’t be stupid. Chancer can look after himself.” He snatched at the bottle, twisting off the cap, and topped up his glass; three fast movements.
“Then if you’re not protecting Chancer, who?”
A tick pulsed below his left eye. Zach’s hand shot out, reaching for his glass. I closed my fingers over it, pinning it to the coffee table.
He looked up, met my gaze, rage in his eyes. “Dad,” he said. “That’s who I’m protecting. He came soon as I called him. He took me home and then did things that night he shouldn’t have done. He did them for me. Me,” he roared, thumping his chest. “The only person you ever think about is yourself. Your fucking self-righteousness kills me. We’ve all made sacrifices, Molly, Scarlet especially. That’s why I wanted to see you. If he goes down, we all do, and Scarlet will have died for nothing. And that’s on you,” he said, pressing a dirty finger in the middle of my forehead.
I shook so hard I could barely speak. Zach sat, a mass of crystallised anger. As soon as I got it together, I let rip. “You think any of this has been easy for me? I love my family. I put Dad on the same pedestal Mum put Scarlet. And you’re right: Scarlet paid the ultimate price but her desire to protect was entirely bonkers. God only knows what she was thinking. Right now, all I want is justice for her and for Drea Temple. It’s what they deserve so don’t you dare tell me that all I think about is what I want.”
When my mobile rang neither of us moved until it cut out.
“Drink up and get out.” Every blood ve
ssel in my body thudded, draining from red to white. As far as I was concerned, the police could pick him up and do their worst. No way was I going to protect him. My phone rang again.
“For Chrissakes, answer it,” Zach barked.
Staring him out, I tossed down the rest of my drink and snatched my mobile. “Yes.”
“Molly, it’s Rachel.”
“Hello.”
“I was too late. The house burnt down last night.”
Chapter 75
My head swam and my pulse ran in quick time.
“It’s now the subject of an arson investigation,” Rachel continued.
Scared, I glanced at Zach. Did his clothes and skin smell of smoke and fire? I didn’t think so, but that was last night, hours ago. “Are you still there?” Rachel said.
I struggled to stay calm. “Could it be Mallis?”
At the mention of Mallis’ name, Zach visibly bristled. I shook my head, listening hard for Rachel’s answer.
“Too early to draw conclusions.” She cleared her throat. “I shouldn’t really be telling you this, but Mallis is part of a separate and active investigation.”
“What sort of investigation?” A murder enquiry?
“I can’t say. I’m going to make some calls and get back to you. In the meantime, take care.”
I slipped my phone into my pocket, took a couple of deep breaths, another snatch of Retsina. Zach’s eyes never left mine. “Who was that?” When I didn’t answer, he stood up, hunched over, like he was freezing, and paced the room. “Fuck, Molly, you’ve gone to the cops.”
I didn’t correct him and say that Rachel was ex-police with the status of a civilian. I didn’t say that any day now he’d be spoken to in connection with the death of Drea Temple. “What did you expect? Did you think this would all go away?” I spread my hands, tried to appeal to Zach’s better nature because, deep down, I knew my brother had one. “Sit down, for God’s sake.” Amazingly, he did.
Every inch of him, limbs and skin and eyes, twitched. At the back of my mind, I wondered if I’d read him wrong. When he spoke next he dialled the tone right down. My brother could be a proper Jekyll and Hyde.
“How much have you told them?”
“Everything.”
He listened intently, the tip of his tongue touching the corner of his mouth, as I described my visit to Rachel. After I’d finished, he said, “She has no hard evidence.”
My words hadn’t had the sobering effect I’d expected. “Not yet, Zach, but she will.” No point in him running away with the idea that he was in the clear. I told him about the house burning down to see how he’d react. His features slackened in astonishment.
“You think Mallis is behind it?”
“Could be, could also be our father.”
“Dad wouldn’t.”
“You sure?”
“He’s a broken man, Molly.”
I didn’t know what I thought about that. Did I feel sorry for him? Hand on heart, not really. Must have been the booze because I was suddenly assailed with self-pity. “Why did you all have to keep it a secret?”
“Because you love Dad so much.”
“Loved.”
Zach’s eyes turned down at the edges. “And you will again.”
I shook my head.
“Is that a no, or you don’t know?”
I couldn’t answer. Zach looked away, feet tapping.
“What?” I said.
Zach chewed his lip, took an avid interest in the carpet. He didn’t look up when he spoke next. “You really think Drea was murdered?”
“The blood wasn’t from the fall.”
More lip chewing. “And whoever it is,” he said, looking up with a level stare, “is on to you.” They’d been on to me from the very beginning. I was unnerved and bewildered back then. Now I was plain scared. Consumed by black thoughts, we gawped at each other. “Mind if I smoke?” Zach said in a shaky voice.
“Outside.”
He stood up, patted down his pockets, fished out tobacco and matches. “We should call Dad.”
“When will you get it through your thick head? NO.”
“We have to call someone.”
“I told you. I already have. It’s under control.”
He threw me an odd, spaced-out look and I watched as he ambled out, blank-eyed, into the garden. Draining my glass, I poured another when a bleep bleep on my phone alerted me to a text.
Lenny: ‘How did it go with Rachel?’
Me: ‘Fine.’
L: ‘Want us to come round?’
Me: ‘Maybe. Not Sober. Zach is still with me.’
L: ‘Zach?! F**k – you okay?’
Me: I attached an emoji of a face rocking with laughter.
L: ‘You sound weird.’
Me: ‘That’s because I’m pissed.’
L: ‘No argument. We’re coming.’
Me: ‘No, I’m good. Need to kick back.’
L: ‘Really? You’re certain?’
Me: ‘Positive. Talk to you in the morning.’
I looked at the measure of booze in my glass and thought I should chuck it down the sink. Screw it, I thought, tossing the drink back in one. I ought to phone Rocco. Ought to tell him about the house and the fire and everything and—
“I’ll stay,” Zach announced, wandering in from outside. To stake his claim, he plumped down and placed his dirty feet up on my coffee table.
I peered at him through eyes that weren’t focussing terribly well. “You don’t have to go all big brother on me.” Clearing the glasses and tidying up suddenly appeared to be a matter of life and death, a sign that I was fully in control of my faculties, that I could handle whatever threat came my way. As I stood up, the room swivelled. Listing to the left, I misjudged the doorway, connected heavily with the frame and bounced off. “Shit,” I said, lurching sideways.
“You need a little sleep,” Zach said with a laugh. Grabbing hold, he manhandled me upstairs.
“Don’t you feel drunk?” My top jaw didn’t seem to connect to my bottom. I had to concentrate really hard to make the right words come out of my mouth. I was fucked if I knew which order they should be in.
I didn’t hear what Zach said in reply. I was way too far gone.
Chapter 76
A flash of lightning lit up the room. I woke with a start, my phone blaring and bouncing off my hangover headache in sickening waves. Enormously hot and sweaty, muzzy with sleep, I snatched up my mobile, took a look. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Zach,” I hollered, thick-tongued. With no response, I hurtled downstairs.
Zach was on his way out of the living room. He looked remarkably awake and bright-eyed, unusually so. If I weren’t so rattled, I’d have quizzed him about what he’d taken. “Problem?” he said, with the kind of lucidity induced by a finely tuned dose of amphetamines.
“The alarm’s gone on the shop.” Cursing, I glanced outside. The wind had picked up and fat drops of rain slammed against the windows. “What time is it?”
Zach reached over and took my arm. “Your watch says midnight.” Somehow, I’d lost several hours, exhaustion finally catching up with me. “Clock on the cooker says eleven.”
I turned around to see the control flashing. With an electrical storm in prospect, a power outage had tripped the switch. “Damn it.” Dry-mouthed, nauseous, I felt absolutely dreadful.
“You all right? Your face looks green.”
“I shouldn’t have drunk centuries’ old Retsina on an empty stomach.” As if in response, acid from my gut tunnelled up towards my throat. At any second, I’d throw up over my feet.
“Won’t the police deal with the shop alarm?” Zach said.
“Gotta be joking.” I cursed myself for not spending the money on a remote system. “Oh hell,” diving into the cloakroom, I made it just in time to chuck up into the toilet bowl. Shakily, I flushed the loo, ran cold water and rinsed out my mouth. My head still banged, but there was no time to waste. Emerging shamefaced and sheepish, I rifled through the jac
kets hanging on the coat stand. “I’ve got a waterproof somewhere.”
“Stop.”
It had been a couple of decades since I’d heard my brother speak with such authority. I looked up.
“Go back to bed.”
“I can’t,” I said rattily. “Sometimes burglars trip an alarm to see if the owner shows up. If I don’t get there pronto, I could lose half my stock.”
“Which is why I’ll go. What’s the code?”
“Zach, no.”
“Why not. Don’t you trust me?” His eyes bored into mine. I knew what he was thinking. Someone could have deliberately targeted the shop so that I’d turn up in the dark on my own.
“But what if someone’s there, for fuck’s sake?” I couldn’t bear the thought of him alone in the night, with God knew who. “What if —”
“Keys,” he said, hand out. He burnt with a determination that I found concerning, yet also hard to resist. If it was important for Zach to prove himself, how could I deny him?
“If you’re sure.” I really did feel giddy and unable to drive.
“Positive.”
I handed them over, rattled off the code and gave him instructions about how to disarm the alarm. “You’ll come straight back, yeah?”
“See you in a bit.” He stepped out as the first clap of thunder bellowed long and loud above our heads and spectacular drops of rain fell and bounced off the earth. Embarrassed, I slunk back to bed
*
Wake up, wake up.
At the sound of Scarlet’s voice in my dream, I opened my eyes. I called her name, but she didn’t answer.
A thin blade of pain penetrated deep inside my brain. It was still dark. Howling wind and driving rain battered the Velux above my head. My phone, which I’d left downstairs, was the only thing silent.
I fumbled for the glass of water Zach must have put on my bedside table and took a long deep swallow. Zach, I thought, was he back?
I rubbed at my face, struggled to sit more upright and wished I hadn’t. Nausea returned mob handed. I had a dry mouth, acid stomach and aching bones. Despite the sudden drop in room temperature, I boiled. Didn’t help that I was still in my skirt and top. Every inch of my skin glistened with perspiration, ethanol stewing and leaking out of my pores.
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