“You didn’t mention this before, Laura,” Egg said. “Why didn’t you say any of this before?”
“It didn’t matter,” Laura said. “It didn’t—”
“Of course it mattered—it matters when you lie to the police,” Egg said, his voice strained. “Why wouldn’t you just tell us that? Why would you lie about something like this?”
“Why wouldn’t I lie?” Laura snapped. “I was already in trouble—I’m always in fucking trouble—I just didn’t want to make it worse. I lied, all right?” She was shouting. “I lied then but I’m telling the truth now.”
From somewhere—Laura couldn’t say where; perhaps she had a bag of tricks beneath the table—Eyebrow pulled out a plastic bag, which she placed on the table between them. Laura stared at it.
“What can you tell us about this, Laura?” Eyebrow asked.
Laura opened her mouth and then closed it again. “What can I . . . ?” She was going to laugh again; she bit down hard on her lower lip. “What can I tell you about it? It’s a knife, by the looks of things. It’s a small . . . smallish knife. It has a black handle. Wooden, I suppose. There’s something on the blade. I have no idea what it is, but I’m guessing—”
“Don’t guess,” Nervous Guy interjected sharply.
“Yeah. Okay. Good point. What can I tell you about it? I can tell you it looks like a knife that I’ve never seen before.”
Egg nodded. “All right. Well, would it surprise you to hear that we found this knife in your flat?”
Laura shook her head. “No . . . I mean, yes! Yes, of course it would fucking surprise me, I just told you I’d never seen it before, it’s not mine. It’s not.” She got to her feet. “It’s not!”
“Please sit down, Laura,” Egg said gently.
She sat. “Why would I . . . ?” She started again. “No, okay, say, say for the sake of argument—”
“Ms. Kilbride, I—” Nervous Guy had woken up at last.
“No, it’s all right, it’s all right. Say, for the sake of argument, it was in my flat. Why would I leave it there? Do you think I’m insane? A moron? Why would I just leave it lying around for you to find?”
“You left Daniel’s watch lying around,” Eyebrow pointed out.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, you don’t kill people with a watch!”
“But you do kill people with knives?”
Laura rolled her eyes. “You see this?” she said, turning to her solicitor. “You see? Trying to put words in my mouth, trying to trick me. Typical fucking rozzers. That knife is not mine. I don’t know where it comes from; it isn’t mine.”
“So . . . what?” Eyebrow prompted. “What are you saying? I don’t want to put words in your mouth, so tell me what you think happened.”
Laura opened her mouth and closed it again, like a fish. She threw her hands in the air. “I don’t fucking know, do I? Someone put it there. One of your lot, maybe. Trying to stitch me up. Desperate, aren’t you, because it’s been two weeks since he died and you’ve got fuck all.”
“Someone put it there,” Eyebrow repeated, very slowly. “You think someone placed the knife in your flat? Does anyone else have access to your flat, Laura? Anyone else have a key?”
“What, aside from the butler?” Laura snapped. “Aside from my cleaning lady, and my personal trainer, and . . . oh, hang about. Miriam!” It came to her, just like that. “Miriam had my key!” The detectives exchanged a quick glance. “She must have . . . fucking hell. Look, I was joking about the butler, but there’s this woman, her name’s Miriam, she lives on the . . . oh, you know her, you’ve spoken to her, she said she found him, didn’t she? Well, she had my key.”
Another look passed between the detectives before Eyebrow leaned forward and prompted, “You’re saying Miriam Lewis had your key?”
“I don’t know her last name—she’s the one on the boat, who said she found him. How many Miriams can there be?”
“Only one, and that is definitely Miriam Lewis,” Egg replied. He looked genuinely, gratifyingly baffled. “Why would you believe that Miriam Lewis had put this knife in your flat?”
Laura’s breath was coming quick and shallow, she was seeing things as she hadn’t before, she was seeing a glimmer of light, she was feeling—what was this strange sensation?—hope. “My key,” Laura said. “You remember, I told you I lost it? I hurt my arm?” Egg nodded. “Well, it turns out she had it. She said she found it, in his boat, she didn’t say why she took it. . . . The point is she could have come into my flat, at any time since he died! And the thing is, you see, the thing is . . .” It was all becoming clear to her now, all of it. “The thing is, she has a grudge against the Myersons. Did you know that? Hates them, thinks they’re evil, not entirely sure why but she told me, right, she told me that she thought it was Carla—that’s Daniel’s aunt, yeah? She told me that she thought that Carla killed Daniel, which I thought was really weird at the time, but now I think it was because she was trying to deflect attention elsewhere. I mean, she says she found him, but how do you even know that’s true? Maybe she found him because she knew he was there to be found? Don’t they often say that it’s the person who found the body that did it? And I know it sounds maybe kind of far-fetched because she’s an old woman—”