But she knows I could. Maybe it got too much. And this thing with Liam has given her a let-out.
“Dee! Are you listening to me?” Liam says, suddenly standing beside me.
“What? Yes, yes.”
“I’m trying to tell you my lawyer says the police have got nothing on me,” he mutters. “She’s just rung me. And she’s right. Ade is claiming he doesn’t remember where he got the pills and Spike isn’t going to say anything, is he? The cops will lose interest.”
“You’ve had a lucky escape, then.”
Liam looks away.
“They’re busy with Charlie’s death, anyway,” he says. “I hear Pauline’s being questioned again—people are saying she could have got someone to do it for her. The body was moved, you know?”
“I heard,” I say. “Let’s hope your lawyer is right and the police leave us alone.”
* * *
—
Fat chance. DS Susie Atkins arrives half an hour later. Looking into our hall, taking it all in as soon as I open the door. Liam hovers near the kitchen door. Ready to disappear.
“Is Mr. Eastwood in? Oh, hello, Liam,” she says. “I’d like to talk to you again about Friday night. Have you remembered any more about the man you say saw Charlie Perry at the workers’ village?”
I want to scream but I’ve got to keep quiet. What has he done now? Why is he making stuff up like this?
“Er, no. Like I said, there were a load of people in the pub. I don’t know everyone who goes in there. You should be talking to the workers at Harbor Row. . . . Most of them don’t even have permits to be here. Loads of illegals. That’s what everyone’s saying.”
“I see. But you definitely didn’t see Charlie Perry that night?”
“No, I didn’t,” he says too loudly.
I’m not sure I’d believe him but I’m praying the officer does.
“And, Mrs. Eastwood”—she turns to look at me—“did you see Mr. Perry?”
“Er, no. Well, it was so crowded—and I was busy dancing and we left early to get back for the babysitter, didn’t we?”
Liam nods.
“Well, I’ve had another look at the CCTV from the High Street and seen your van with two people in the front seats.”
Liam nods but doesn’t manage to speak.
“That would be right,” I say. “We drove home from the festival, didn’t we, love?”
“Right,” DS Atkins says, “but twenty-five minutes later it’s at the Shell garage out on the Portsmouth road.”
“We went to get some diesel on the way home,” I say too quickly. “We were getting low.”
“Right. How far is the garage from the Old Vicarage? A couple of miles?”
“Yeah, about that,” Liam says.
“So it took you twenty-five minutes to drive a couple of miles?”
Liam goes all red and I know he’s going to say something stupid.
“We stopped for a cuddle,” I blurt.
DS Atkins looks at me and I hold her eye. “Where exactly?” she says.
“Down by the sea,” I say straight back, and try to giggle. “We were reliving our youth—what with the festival and everything.”
“Right, well, luckily there are cameras on the front, so we’ll be able to pinpoint when this kiss and cuddle took place.”
“We weren’t on the front,” I shoot back. “Just parked up on one of the side roads. Then we got the fuel and went back to let the babysitter go to the festival.”
“I see. So can I have the name of your babysitter?”
She’s not letting this go. I shrug as if I don’t care. But my heart is pounding.
“Er, it’s Jenny—she lives at number thirteen.”
* * *
—
I watch the officer march up the path and wonder what Jenny will say? What she saw?
Liam comes to stand by me at the window. “A cuddle?” he says. “What made you say that? You haven’t let me near you for a week.”
“Dunno. It was the first thing that came into my head. I didn’t hear you come up with anything better.”
“Why don’t we just tell the truth? Say I took him home?” he hisses.
“It’ll be fine,” I say.
“No, it won’t! We’re making this worse. When she comes back, I’m telling her.”
“Don’t you dare. . . .”
But I’ve lost him. He’s going to do it. I put the kettle on and wait for the police to come back.