The Weekend Away

by Sarah Alderson

  ‘No! He fell!’ Oh God. I’m putting my foot in it.

  She leans back in the chair, eyes resting on me, carefully appraising, and I bite my lips shut to stop myself from saying anything else incriminating.

  ‘We have Kate’s Facebook messages and phone records,’ she says after a while. ‘We subpoenaed them. They confirm the affair with your husband, so we have a motive. We also have witnesses who saw you two fighting.’

  ‘Outside the bar?’ I blurt. ‘That’s not true! We weren’t fighting.’

  ‘We know you are friends with a man with criminal connections,’ she continues, reading off the evidence they have against me as though it’s incontrovertible. ‘Who was also there tonight at the scene of the crime. We have a witness.’

  The damn pizza boy.

  ‘There’s a warrant out for Konstandin Zeqiri’s arrest.’

  ‘But it wasn’t him! He had nothing to do with it.’

  She ignores me. ‘It’s lucky a witness recognised you both after seeing you on the news and called it in to the police.’

  Yes, I think to myself, very lucky. She must be talking about the taxi driver. The police must have rushed to Sebastian’s, summoned by the paramedics, and then issued an alert on the news for people to be on the look-out for us. The taxi driver must have called the police on us. Perhaps he thought it better that we got arrested than his cousin did.

  ‘With all the evidence we have, you’re looking at twenty to twenty-five years for Kate’s murder,’ Reza informs me. ‘And an additional ten for the attempted murder of your landlord.’

  Oh dear God. I stare down at my hands. They’re trembling in my lap.

  ‘How old is your daughter?’

  I can’t breathe. Marlow. I can’t go to jail. She needs me. My foot starts tapping out a staccato rhythm as my anxiety grows, crawling up my body like big, fat spiders. I take a deep, gulping breath and then another, trying not to think about Marlow and the fact I might never see her again. Twenty-five years, longer even! I’ll be an old woman. She’ll be grown.

  ‘Look,’ I protest, desperately scrambling for something to stave off the panic, to stay Reza’s hand. ‘Sebastian was spying on us. Speak to the people in the upstairs apartment I stayed in with Kate. Sebastian had cameras hidden everywhere. I found them. He recorded me and Kate. There was footage of her, videos of her leaving the apartment! He was trying to stop me from getting away, from telling you about it!’

  Reza glowers at me but I can see I’ve said something that’s caught her interest. I try to reel her in, keep her listening. ‘It’s true. I swear. You just have to go and look in his apartments. You’ll find the cameras. You’ll see I’m telling the truth! Maybe he even recorded the fight we had.’

  ‘We’d need a warrant to search his apartments. And no judge is going to give me one based on the crazy accusations of someone under arrest for one murder and one attempted murder.’

  ‘Please!’ I say. ‘Please. You have to believe me! There were some German tourists staying in the apartment we stayed in. Go and speak to them!’

  She keeps staring at me, and I can’t tell what she’s thinking, but finally she stands up and walks over to the door. ‘I’ll be back,’ she says and walks out, leaving me with Nunes, a tall, dark presence in the corner of the room. He walks over and sits down, clearly taking advantage of the boss being away to try to crack the case.

  ‘You’re going to prison for this,’ he says, leaning over me menacingly. ‘So you may as well confess.’

  ‘But I didn’t do it,’ I protest angrily.

  ‘Confess and you’ll do ten years, maybe fifteen. A sympathetic judge. People will understand. She was your friend. She betray you. Give us Konstandin and maybe we can strike a plea deal. You’ll get out in time to see your daughter grow up.’

  ‘She came here!’ I shout. ‘Kate came here and made a report!’ I can’t believe I’ve waited until now to remember this.

  ‘What?’ Nunes asks, frowning at me.

  ‘The night she died,’ I say, eager to share now I think it might help derail the train that’s rushing towards me. ‘She came here to file a report about her stolen bag.’

  ‘How do you know this?’ he asks. ‘Why did you not mention it before?’

  ‘I only just found out.’ I swallow. ‘It’s why I was with Konstandin tonight. We tracked down the taxi driver who brought her here.’

  ‘We would know if she came here,’ he retorts, sarcastically.

  ‘Why don’t you check?’ I urge, sitting forwards, feeling the sting of the handcuffs rubbing my raw wrists. ‘Konstandin and I were trying to find evidence to clear our names, that’s all.’

  He stares at me, unmoving. I meet his stare, pleading with him silently. Why isn’t he going and checking? ‘Fine,’ I huff. ‘I’ll tell Detective Reza when she gets back. At least one of you is doing your job.’

  I say it to rile him as I know he’s hungry to make the case. If I can poke him, and make him look like he’s missing an opportunity, he’ll probably jump to it. But he doesn’t move. Instead a look of panic crosses his face. It’s brief. He covers it quickly, but not quickly enough. My heart bursts like a bomb in my chest.

  Oh God. Everything slips into place.

  I lift my eyes from the tabletop and stare at him. It was Nunes. He was on duty that night. I can tell just from the look on his face. He took Kate’s statement. I don’t need confirmation because it’s written in his eyes. Guilt.

  And now I remember something else, something that bobs up to the surface of my memory. At that first meeting, when I gave him the details of Kate’s disappearance he said something about her being recently divorced. At the time I was too tired and emotional to notice but I never told him that. So how did he know? Unless Kate told him.

  ‘It was you!’ I say. ‘You took her statement.’

  He glances quickly over his shoulder at the door. There it is again, that panic flitting across his face. Shit. It hits me then that I’m alone in here with him. Where’s Reza? I tug at my wrists but I’m cuffed to the chair. Another bomb goes off in my chest.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell anyone?’ I ask. ‘When I reported her missing? Why did you not say anything?’

  The whole time he’s been pretending to search for her, and he knew all along that she’d been to the police station to report her bag missing. It doesn’t make sense. Why did he not say anything? The realisation sinks in. There’s only one reason he wouldn’t have said anything. ‘Oh my God,’ I whisper, staring at him in shock as the pieces slot into place. ‘It was you!’ I cry. ‘You killed her!’

  He shakes his head. ‘No!’ he hisses, his eyes leaping furtively to the door.

  ‘Yes,’ I say, because guilt is written all over his face. ‘It was you.’

  ‘No! Stop it!’ He leaps to his feet, his head whipping to the door again before he turns back to me, speaking in a hushed shout. ‘Be quiet! You don’t know what you’re saying!’

  ‘What happened?’ I ask. ‘Tell me what happened!’ I need to know.

  He looks like he might lunge across the table at me. I shrink back away from him but I’ve got nowhere to go because I’m cuffed to the chair. ‘Be quiet!’ he spits furiously.

  I obey, staring at him in frozen disbelief. This is the man who killed Kate. ‘They’re going to find out,’ I tell him. ‘You may as well come clean. Tell me what happened. Admit it.’

  His face reddens, his mouth twisting into a grimace. He runs a hand through his dark hair in a panic. ‘It was a mistake, that’s all.’

  His admission hits me like a slap. ‘What was a mistake?’ I stammer.

  He blinks at me as though shocked to have said it out loud.

  ‘Nothing,’ he says. ‘Nothing! I didn’t hurt her. I swear!’

  ‘Then what did you mean? What was a mistake?’ I push, my voice rising, hoping that someone outside the room might hear. Where the hell is Reza?

  ‘Shhhh!’ Nunes says, trying to get me to hush.

 
I look up at the ceilings. There aren’t any cameras installed. When I look back at Nunes, sweating profusely and agitated, he reminds me of a wounded animal caught in a trap. With chilling horror, I realise the danger I’m in. I need to keep him calm until Reza returns.

  ‘Tell me what you meant,’ I say quietly. ‘What mistake?’

  ‘Offering to drive her home,’ Nunes says.

  He drove her home! He’s admitted it!

  ‘And then what happened?’ I press. How did he end up killing her? I need to know. ‘I’m sure it was an accident,’ I say gently, hoping he’ll open up to me if he thinks I’m on his side.

  His brow furrows and he seems lost in thought, probably replaying the events in his head.

  ‘I’m sure you didn’t mean to kill her,’ I say, though I feel no such certainty.

  His eyes jerk to me, flashing with fury. ‘I didn’t kill her! Stop saying that!’ He leans over the table, his face inches from my own. The fury emanating off him is so immense that my insides quiver with fear. He looks like he’s about to hit me. Is that how he looked at Kate? What if he tries to hurt me?!

  I open my mouth and scream at the top of my lungs. ‘Help!’

  But before I can even get the first syllable out his hand slams into my throat like a guillotine blade. The force of the blow sends me flying sideways but because the chair is screwed to the ground and I’m attached to the chair I go nowhere, only jerk violently, my head snapping back with force. I try to suck in air but my windpipe has been crushed and it’s like trying to breathe through a flattened straw.

  My vision darkens and I can hear a horrible gasping, choking sound that I realise is coming from me. Over the top of it I can hear Nunes saying something. It sounds like he’s pleading, begging or maybe even crying.

  He’s beside me, or rather behind me. I can’t see. My eyes are filled with tears and the room is getting darker. I want to fill my lungs and scream but it’s impossible. I struggle against the cuffs, the pain in my chest expanding. With what little breath is left in my lungs I try to shout but it comes out as a grunting groan. A hand slams over my mouth. His hand. It’s hot and he presses down hard over my mouth and nose.

  ‘Be quiet!’ he urges. ‘Please, be quiet!’ He sounds hysterical and angry at the same time. A million lights burst in my field of vision. A firework display goes off inside my head, the lights fading quickly to embers.

  The darkness descends like a velvet cowl, wrapping me completely in its warmth and softness. Marlow, I think to myself, as tears spring from my eyes.

  I won’t get to see her grow up.

  Chapter Forty

  Tuesday

  ‘Orla. Orla, can you hear me?’

  Someone is calling me from far away, but I’m buried in darkness so complete I can’t figure out which direction it’s coming from. But then I feel a pair of warm, strong hands, pulling me forwards, leading me out of the dark and back into the light.

  ‘Orla!’

  It’s a new voice. A voice I recognise – gruff but smooth as water rushing over gravel. I open my eyes. It’s Konstandin. He’s leaning over me. It takes me a few seconds to remember what happened and then I panic and glance around but I don’t recognise the room I’m in. It’s not the police cell. It looks like a hospital room. What am I doing here? Am I still under arrest?

  ‘It’s OK. You’re OK,’ Konstandin reassures me, squeezing my hand. ‘You’re at the hospital.’

  My eyes widen in panic. Konstandin shouldn’t be here! What if the police see him?

  He smiles at me. ‘They arrested Nunes,’ he says.

  Nunes. Now I remember what happened. Oh God. He killed Kate. But why? I have a million questions that need answers. I look at Konstandin, hoping he can read all the questions in my eyes because I can’t speak them out loud, my throat is too sore and when I try to speak I can only manage a croak.

  ‘I used my contacts,’ Konstandin says. ‘My associates. They know people in the police. They had them look into it. They found out Nunes was on duty that night. I raised the alarm.’

  I give a weak smile of thanks.

  ‘I’m sorry I ran off,’ Konstandin says. ‘I thought that it was better that I stayed free and kept trying to find out what happened.’

  I nod. The words don’t come; my throat is so tightly closed. My hand goes to my neck, which feels swollen and sore.

  Konstandin scowls as he sees me wince. ‘He hit you hard,’ he says to me. ‘It’s going to take some time for the bruising to go down.’

  I close my eyes, the memory of the assault bursting into bloom against the back of my eyelids. Nunes’s hand smothering my mouth. The desperate terror I felt at not being able to breathe. The realisation I was going to die and never see Marlow again. Who saved me?

  ‘A detective, Reza is her name, she came back into the room, just in time. You were lucky. He almost killed you.’

  Tears flow down my cheeks. Does that mean Konstandin and I are both in the clear? And Rob too? What about Sebastian, I wonder? Will they let me off for that? Or am I still in trouble? I wonder if they found the cameras in his apartment, if Reza now believes me about him spying. I have to assume she does, and that I’m not going to be charged with anything, as I’m not handcuffed to the bed and Konstandin is sitting here beside me, also a free man.

  But it doesn’t explain why he killed Kate. I frown at Konstandin and he intuits the question and shrugs. ‘He won’t say. He’s refusing to talk. And he lawyered up immediately. But my contacts dug into him. They say Nunes had a previous corruption charge against him dropped. He allegedly forced two prostitutes to give him oral sex in exchange for being let off a solicitation charge. Internal affairs investigated but the women wouldn’t testify. They were probably afraid to. So in the end they had to let Nunes return to work. He’s admitted he offered to give Kate a ride home after he took her report about the theft of her bag. But he only admitted it after they confronted him with evidence. Until then he was denying it.’

  ‘How do they know he was lying?’ I ask.

  ‘A traffic camera caught his car on camera, close to the docks on the night Kate died. They have an image of Nunes driving the car and Kate in the passenger seat.’

  My vision swims and even though I’m lying down I feel faint.

  ‘His shift was ending when she came in to report her bag stolen, and so he offered her a ride home. She said yes because she didn’t have the cash for a taxi. He says he drove her to the dockside, near to your apartment. It’s quiet at night. And he admits that he propositioned her …’ Konstandin tails off.

  I can fill in the gaps on my own. Nunes made a pass at Kate. He suggested she repay his favour with one of her own.

  ‘When Kate realised what he wanted she got out the car,’ I say, picturing it in vivid detail. ‘He followed her and they got in a fight.’

  Konstandin nods. ‘That’s what the police believe.’

  I close my eyes and keep on imagining it: Nunes making the request. Kate threatening to report him and getting out of the car. Nunes seeing his career hanging in the balance. If she reports him, maybe this time he will be prosecuted, so he chases after her. He catches up to her and lunges for her. She hits him. He raises his hand and hits her back, the same way he hit me, across the throat. She stumbles, arms windmilling. Her head smashes into the dockside and then she disappears under the surface of the water.

  I open my eyes.

  ‘Under interrogation Nunes admitted they got in a fight and that Kate stormed off,’ Konstandin says. ‘He claims that he didn’t kill her though.’

  ‘But he said he made a mistake. He admitted it to me!’

  ‘He says he meant the mistake was propositioning her.’

  My mouth gapes open. ‘What?

  Konstandin gives a one-shouldered shrug. ‘He says he doesn’t know how she ended up in the water or how she drowned, or even how she hit her head. He says that he left her and drove off.’

  I stare at Konstandin for a long time, trying t
o picture it, struggling to revise the images in my head of how it all played out. How did Kate fall in the water then? Was it an accident after all?

  ‘Nunes is lying,’ Konstandin says. ‘He’s facing a murder charge. He knows that if he has any chance with a jury he has to seed doubt. And there’s no way of confirming he killed her or if it was even deliberate. For all we know it might have been manslaughter.’

  ‘So he’ll get away with it?’ I ask, starting to tremble all over.

  Konstandin shakes his head. ‘Even if he does he’ll still go to jail for trying to kill you.’

  I nod, though I’m barely concentrating anymore. For a moment, it felt as though the truth was lit up bright as the sun, but now a shadow has passed in front of it and everything is murky once more, shrouded in mystery. We don’t know what happened. And we probably never will.

  I glance at the window. It’s still dark outside and when I turn my head a fraction I see a clock on the wall in the corridor outside. Konstandin turns his head to see where I’m looking. ‘It’s four in the morning,’ he says.

  I reach my hand across the starched sheet and Konstandin slips his rough, warm palm into mine. I squeeze and he squeezes back.

  We stay like that for I don’t know how long, until I fall asleep at least, and I think even while I sleep, because when I wake up hours later and the sun is streaming into the room, he’s still there, and he’s still holding my hand.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Two Weeks Later

  I choose a bright purple scarf because I don’t want to wear black and, even though it’s hot and not scarf weather, I need something to hide the gruesome yellowy-green bruise on my throat. I’ve been told by the doctor the bruise will fade, just as the hoarseness in my throat did. Not enough to give a eulogy though. At least, that’s the excuse I gave Kate’s mother when she asked if I would.

  I sit on a wooden bench outside the venue where the memorial is being held, with Marlow asleep in the pushchair beside me. Toby chose an old Huguenot church in Spitalfields that’s been converted into an event space, but I’m not going in.