I hold my breath, willing the answer to be no, but even if he says no, how will I believe him given the lies he’s told me? How can I trust a word out of his mouth?
‘Orla,’ Rob says, shock or maybe panic making his breathing hike. ‘What the hell are you talking about?! What are the police saying? I thought it was an accident?’
‘No. They say there was evidence of a struggle. She fought with someone before she died …’
‘It wasn’t me!’ Rob interjects.
‘Why were you here? Why were you in Lisbon on Friday?!’ I ask, my voice a cold hiss, barely above a whisper. I don’t want Sebastian hearing me.
Rob doesn’t answer.
‘Rob?’ I probe, wondering if he’s hung up. Terror grips my insides. It has to be him. It makes sense.
A huge sob echoes down the line. The sound of it leaves me cold. ‘I needed to stop her,’ Rob cries.
A chill runs up my body. ‘Stop her from doing what?’
‘From telling you,’ he splutters through his tears.
My jaw drops open in astonishment. The world tilts under my feet. Oh my God. He did it. He just admitted it to me.
‘You can’t think it was me though … I didn’t do anything!’ Rob carries on. ‘I didn’t kill her. I swear to you. I didn’t even see her! She wouldn’t meet me.’
I’m only tentatively relieved because I don’t know if he’s telling me the truth. Of course he’d deny it. ‘How do I know you’re telling the truth?’ I ask. ‘I can’t trust you.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers again.
‘You’re only sorry that I found out,’ I spit, new waves of anger washing over me. I know if we were face to face I’d find it almost impossible not to pummel him with my fists.
‘I didn’t want to hurt you,’ he says. ‘I’d called it off. We were over with, me and Kate. Things were good between you and me.’ He sniffs. ‘And then I found out you were going away with her for the weekend and I got worried. You know Kate … she liked to play games. She was angry about …’ He breaks off.
‘I know why she was angry,’ I tell him, my voice an iron rod. ‘I’ve read all your texts. I listened to the messages.’
I can almost hear his panic scratching at his throat as he takes that in.
‘Keep going,’ I order him.
‘She was angry and I thought maybe because she was so angry she’d tell you about …’ He breaks off.
‘The affair,’ I finish for him.
‘I panicked,’ Rob says. ‘It was stupid. I don’t know what I was thinking. But I couldn’t stay at home waiting to get a call from you asking me if it was true. I figured I’d fly here and try to talk to Kate, convince her not to say anything to you. And if I couldn’t talk to her or convince her, I could at least be there to talk to you if she did tell you.’
I shake my head. He must have been out of his mind with panic to leave Marlow with the babysitter and fly out here. ‘But you didn’t speak to her? You didn’t see her?’
‘No,’ he says. ‘I … she promised me she wasn’t going to say anything. I think …’ He breaks off again.
‘What?’ I press.
‘I think it was a power game for her. She wanted to know that I’d come running. Her way of asserting control. She was playing with me. She wanted my attention.’ He says it through gritted teeth, the anger in his voice obvious.
‘And that made you mad,’ I say.
‘No! I mean, yes,’ he says, flustered, ‘but I didn’t hurt her. How could you even think that?’
‘Are you kidding me?’ I snort. ‘How could I think that? I don’t know what to think. You’ve been lying to me for years! You were sleeping with my best friend. You don’t even want to be with me.’
‘That’s not true!’ he protests.
‘You only stayed because of Marlow.’
‘No!’
‘Stop bloody lying to me, Rob!’ I shout before quickly lowering my voice. ‘I’ve read the texts.’ My fists are clenched and my nails dig bloody half-moons into my palms as I remember. ‘She wanted to start a family with you. You wanted it too.’
Rob falls silent.
‘Look,’ I say, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. ‘I can’t do this now.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers.
‘Don’t,’ I mutter.
He falls silent. The tension crackles down the line.
‘Orla,’ he finally says. ‘I didn’t kill Kate. I swear to God.’
I say nothing. His word means nothing.
‘It was probably those men, the escorts you told me about. Have the police interviewed them yet?’
‘It wasn’t them,’ I tell him wearily. ‘You know, she hired them because she wanted me to sleep with one of them and when I didn’t she tried to fake it so I’d think I had. She did it on purpose, Rob, and when I didn’t want to sleep with him she drugged me so in the morning I wouldn’t remember and then she could tell you I’d been unfaithful.’
‘What? Why would she do that?’ Rob asks.
‘So you’d have a reason to leave me.’
He breathes in sharply. ‘My God,’ he whispers under his breath. ‘That’s crazy.’
‘Yes. Guess what though, Rob?’
‘What?’ he asks.
‘I’m the one leaving you.’
‘No, Orla, please, come on …’ he begs.
‘Stop talking,’ I tell him, trying to hold back the sob that’s building in my chest. ‘I don’t want to hear another word.’
‘What about the police?’ he asks, ignoring me. ‘You aren’t going to tell them are you? About me being there?’
I snort. ‘Why shouldn’t I? They think I have something to do with her murder. They’re looking at me as a suspect.’
‘Shit,’ he says loudly. ‘For real?’
‘They haven’t charged me but, yes, I can tell they think I had something to do with it. You were here; you saw how suspicious they were. And now, once they find out about the affair they’ll think I have a motive, won’t they? So thanks, thanks a lot!’ I add, sarcastically.
‘Oh my God, Orla. What are you going to do?’
I shake my head. Suddenly I’m on my own in this. There’s no offer to fly out and set the record straight, no sense that he’s the one who’s helped put me in this situation.
‘If the police find out about the affair then we’re both screwed,’ he says. ‘If they find out I was over there we could both end up arrested. I mean, they might think we planned it together, or that we all had a falling-out about it and one thing led to another and …’ He tails off.
I mull that over in my mind. Would the police think that? Or would I be in the clear? Would they turn to Rob as the prime suspect? And won’t they find out he was in Lisbon eventually?
‘What would happen to Marlow?’ Rob asks, interrupting my thoughts.
Oh God. He may as well have reached through the phone and grabbed me by the throat. I know what he’s doing. He’s using our child as a pawn. If Rob’s arrested or questioned, what would happen to her? Rob’s parents aren’t often around to help out. They’re in Ecuador at the moment on a month-long trip, and my mum is in Ireland, taking care of my dad who has Parkinson’s. It’s not like they’ll be able to have her, and we can’t foist her on Denise. Marlow needs one of her parents there. But why shouldn’t it be me? I’m the innocent party here. But I can’t get home without my passport. I could yell at the injustice of it. It should be Rob here in my place, coming under suspicion and having to surrender his passport. I’m the one who should be home with our daughter.
‘Just say nothing for now, OK?’ Rob urges. ‘Maybe the police will find who really did it.’ He’s willing me to get on board with his plan. There’s a pleading desperation in his voice. But what’s in it for me? Other than the fact I don’t want to tell them about the affair in case it gives them ammunition against me.
I suppose though, if I hold on to the information I can use it down the line if and when I need to.
‘OK,’ he answers. ‘I understand. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’
I close my eyes as I hang up and let the words bounce off me, meaningless as sleet blowing against a cold pane of glass.
Chapter Thirty-One
The door buzzer goes and my heart makes a valiant effort to smash its way out of my chest. My nerve endings are raw and exposed. Since the call with Rob about half an hour ago I’ve been anxiously pacing the room, trying to write down a to-do list, but I’m too distracted, too panicked to write anything, to process much more than the fact my husband was having an affair with my best friend and may have killed her.
I feel like an innocent prisoner on death row, who knows the seconds are ticking by but can’t figure out how to stay the executioner’s hand. I’ve tried to discount the two people with motives besides me – Toby and Rob – and failed. And there’s still the very real possibility that it was an accident or Kate was killed by a stranger. In which case, I’ll never find out what happened.
I wait, holding my breath, until the knock on my bedroom door comes. It’s Sebastian telling me that it’s the police again. His gaze slides across my face and over the room. I can’t tell what’s going on in his mind, only that he seems to be in a perverse way enjoying the drama I’m providing. I’m a form of reality TV I suppose, or a Hitchcockian thriller playing out in front of him in real time.
I walk to the front door to meet Nunes.
‘What is it? Did you find out who killed Kate?’ I ask.
‘We have some more questions,’ he answers, a master in holding back. ‘You must come to station.’
I sigh loudly. ‘Again? I’ve already been in for an interview a few hours ago. What other questions are there?’ I may be presenting a calm exterior but inside I’m freaking out. Are they going to arrest me?
He looks like he wants to just order me into the car without further ado but my belligerence stops him. ‘We want to ask you some questions about your friend.’
‘Kate?’ I ask, confused.
‘No, the Uber driver. Konstandin Zeqiri.’
‘Konstandin?’ That pulls me up short. How the hell do they know about Konstandin? Was it Joaquim? Did he tell them about the man who beat him up? But how would they have been able to identify Konstandin? Joaquim didn’t know his name.
‘Can you come with me?’ Nunes repeats, indicating the front door.
I turn to see Sebastian hovering in the living room, listening in.
‘OK,’ I say. ‘Fine, let me get my bag.’
I dart back into my room, questions racing through my mind as I pull on a sweater. How do they know about Konstandin? Why do they need to ask questions about him? What was it he said when I asked him if he’d killed anyone? If he had, he wouldn’t tell me.
Oh my God. What if I’ve been wrong about him this whole time?
Gathering my handbag, I hurry back to meet Nunes, who is waiting for me in the hallway.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Despite the fact it’s almost nine in the evening, the police station seems busier than normal. People are bustling around and when I walk through with Nunes at my side, I notice a lot of the police officers stop to watch me. My skin prickles under their gaze. I’ve done a walk of shame before, when I was at university, but this feels like that times ten. Everyone is looking at me like I’m guilty.
In the background of the reception area the news is playing on a TV, and I recognise Reza on screen. I can’t understand what she’s saying but she’s giving a press conference to a room of journalists and Kate’s photo sits in the bottom corner of the screen. I skid to a stop, shocked. I haven’t been on social media, haven’t been aware that the news has picked up the story.
Reza is in her office, surrounded by coffee cups, and looking stressed. She doesn’t smile or offer me anything to drink, she just jerks her head towards a chair, indicating I sit.
I look around as I do. Nunes stays planted in the doorway, as though worried I might try to bolt. My pulse leaps, my heart rate doubling. Sweat trickles down my spine and prickles beneath my arms.
‘How do you know Konstandin Zeqiri?’ Reza asks with no preamble.
‘Um … he drives an Uber.’
‘That’s how you know him?’
‘Yes, he took Kate and I to the bar we went to on Friday night. Is something …?’
Reza leans forward across the desk. ‘But you’ve seen him since then?’ she interrupts.
I swallow. No point denying anything. ‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘He’s an Uber driver,’ I say. ‘He’s been driving me around.’
‘You have receipts for that?’
I open my mouth, then shut it. Damn. I left fifty euro in the glove compartment of his car but I didn’t get a receipt for it. ‘No,’ I say.
‘Do you normally go to Uber driver’s houses?’ Reza asks with a curious smile.
I draw a breath. ‘How do you know that?’ I ask. ‘Are you following me?’
‘Why were you there?’ Nunes asks, ignoring my question. There’s a pointed look on his face, a snide smile accompanying it. I get his inference and it makes me mad.
‘It’s not like that,’ I say.
‘Why did you go to his house then?’ He’s stepped away from his sentry post at the door and taken a seat beside Reza.
‘I … we … we’re just friends,’ I stammer.
Nunes pulls a sceptical face. ‘Friends? You met three days ago.’
‘He’s been helping me,’ I stammer, ‘translating and bringing me here to file a missing person’s report. He was helping me look for Kate. That’s all. Is he a suspect?’ I ask, wringing my hands. ‘Do you think he killed Kate?’
Reza leans back in her chair, pressing her fingertips together. ‘What did he tell you about himself?’
I shake my head, trying to understand. ‘Not very much. I know he’s from Kosovo, that he came here in the war as a refugee.’
Nunes snorts. ‘I thought you were friends. Don’t friends know things about each other?’
I glance at Reza and notice the flash of irritation on her face. She’s annoyed that Nunes is interfering with her questioning of me. She’s the one in charge, not him.
‘Did he tell you what he does for a job?’ Reza asks.
‘He told me he was studying to be a doctor. Now he drives an Uber.’
‘His other job.’
I shake my head slowly. ‘No.’
She leans forwards, her eyes lighting up, clearly happy at her little victory of knowledge. ‘He works for the Albanian mafia.’
I wonder for a moment if she’s having me on or joking. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Konstandin Zeqiri is a well-known associate of the Albanian criminal organisation,’ Nunes says. ‘The mafia.’
‘Mafia?’ I repeat dumbly. All I can think of is The Sopranos and Goodfellas and Marlon Brando in The Godfather.
‘Yes. The Albanians have a big presence here in Portugal – illegal guns, drugs, trafficking.’
I start to laugh but then stop, thinking of how Konstandin extracted the information I needed from the barman and the bouncer and Joaquim. Oh. No wonder he was so good at it. He’s a pro. I’m stunned into silence. But he seemed so nice, I want to protest. Apart from the threat of violence. And the actual violence. And the time he jokingly suggested he might have killed someone. Oh good Lord, what if that wasn’t a joke?
Orla, you really are an idiot. Here you are, running around town with a known criminal. I’m clearly the most dupable person on the planet. My instincts are terrible. It also helps explain the deferential reaction of that man in the Turkish restaurant, and why he kept turning down my offers to pay him for driving me around. Perhaps driving an Uber is just his cover story. It’s not how he makes his money.
Reza shakes her head. ‘We don’t know. But he does have a background that puts him on the suspect list.’
‘OK,’ I say, mind leaping ahead and trying to sort through all the knowledge I have. That previous idea I had about Toby hiring someone to kill Kate has re-awoken. Konstandin could easily be that person, if what the police are telling me about him is true.
‘Why do you think he’s so interested in you and in helping you?’ Reza asks. ‘Did you not think it was strange?’
‘A little,’ I stammer. ‘I mean, but he said he wanted to help because …’ How do I explain? Telling them that I remind him of his dead wife, isn’t going to help. Even to my ears now it seems weird.
Reza waits for me to finish my sentence.
‘I don’t know,’ I admit finally with a shrug. ‘Have you checked his alibi?’ I ask. ‘He was working the night Kate vanished. It would be easy enough to find out where he was when she died. The app would have tracked all his journeys.’
Reza’s mouth purses. ‘We’re looking into it.’
I nod, but my brain is spinning at a million miles a minute, trying to test the theories against what I know and what I remember. Could Konstandin really be involved in this? On the one hand it would mean that Rob isn’t guilty but on the other it means I’ve been hanging out with Kate’s killer without realising it.
‘Your landlord say that Konstandin caused an argument between you and your husband,’ Nunes says.
That pulls me up. How did Sebastian know about that? It was on the street outside the apartment. The only way he could know that is if he was spying on us from a window.
‘No, not really,’ I hedge. ‘It wasn’t an argument.’
‘He said you had big fight,’ Nunes says.
Alarm bells start to sound. ‘No, that’s not true,’ I answer as evenly as I can, given my heart is undergoing a series of miniature attacks. Goddamn Sebastian. What if he was listening at the door when I was talking to Toby and Rob, confronting them over the affair? How much do the police know, I wonder? I have to force my fingers to stop worrying at the skin around my nails. I don’t want to give away my nervousness. It might be read as guilt.
The Weekend Away Page 23
