Pop Goes the Weasel | страница 74

This story just kept getting better and better.

‘She’s asleep. You can’t see her.’

Steve was a bad liar, but Helen didn’t contradict him. There was real fury in his eyes and Helen was careful not to provoke him.

‘It’s important I talk to her, so can you ask her to call me the minute she wakes up?’

‘You don’t let up, do you?’ Steve replied, half laughing in his bitterness.

‘I have a job to do, Steve. I’m not trying to rile you or disturb Charlie, but I have a job to do and I won’t let personal friendships get in the way.’

‘Friendships? That’s a fucking joke. I don’t think you’re capable of friendships.’

‘I didn’t come here to argue with you…’

‘You don’t care about anyone but yourself, do you? As long as you get what you wa-’

‘ENOUGH.’

They both turned to see Charlie approaching. She hadn’t been in bed, merely eavesdropping from the living room, as Helen had suspected all along. Anger flashed across Steve’s face momentarily, embarrassed to be revealed as a liar, then he recovered himself, hurrying to Charlie. But she was staring past her boyfriend to Helen.

‘You’d better come in.’

‘Think, Charlie. Is there anything else you remember? Her face? Her smell? Her expression?’

‘No, I’ve told you.’

‘Did she say anything when she bumped into you? Did you hear an accent of any kind?’

Charlie closed her eyes, unwillingly casting her mind back to that moment.

‘No. She just kind of grunted.’

‘Grunted?’

‘Yup, I’d winded her so…’

Charlie petered out, feeling Helen’s irritation and disappointment. The Polish prostitute who’d got the wrong room and disturbed the attack spoke broken English and was deeply suspicious of the police. Her description of the killer was basic, hence the pressure Helen was now piling on Charlie to conjure a rabbit from the hat. Some half-remembered detail could give them the break they so desperately needed.

‘Ok, let’s leave it for now. You’re obviously tired,’ Helen said, rising. ‘Perhaps things will be clearer tomorrow after you’ve had some sleep.’

She was halfway to the door when Charlie said:

‘Here.’

Helen turned to see Charlie holding out her warrant card.

‘You were right.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I can’t do this. I thought I could but I can’t.’

‘Charlie, there’s no need to rush into this -’

‘Someone died in my arms today,’ Charlie shouted, her voice shaking even as she said it. ‘He died right in front of me, I had to wash his blood off my face, out of my hair. I had to wash his blood out of…’