Maybe.
Because Ffion has a stronger motive for killing Rhys Lloyd than anyone else in Cwm Coed, and, for all that Leo wants to spend time with her, the detective in him can’t rule out the possibility that she was involved. Ffion was in a bar with Leo at the time of Lloyd’s death, but she’d been with the man just hours before. Had she set something in motion that resulted in his death?
If she had, it makes Leo her alibi.
In custody, Ceri listens to her legal rights in silence, the only sign of stress two vertical lines in the centre of her brow, then she asks for a solicitor. It’s late when they finally get into interview.
‘Tell me about your relationship with Rhys Lloyd,’ Leo starts.
Ceri shrugs. ‘We went to the same school. Like everyone did.’ She looks at Ffion. ‘You know all this – this is such bullshit.’
‘Were you friends?’
Ceri exhales noisily. ‘You know we weren’t.’ She places her hands flat on the table, as though bracing herself, then looks up. ‘He bullied me, alright? No doubt you’ve heard it from various people in the village, so you might as well hear it from me too. From the minute I started at secondary school he made my life a living hell. He wrote dyke on my locker. He sent notes to girls in my year, with my name at the bottom. He stuck a picture of my head on to porn. He and his mates threatened to rape me to “turn me straight”。’ Ceri’s voice is flat and hard.
‘That must have been awful.’ Ffion puts a hand on the table then pulls back, as though she’d been about to reach across, before realising where they were.
‘There was this girl I fancied.’ Ceri stares at the table. ‘I don’t know how he knew, but he did. He sent me a message, making out it was her, and she wanted to meet up.’ She breaks off, shaking her head at her na?vety.
‘In Rhys’s music studio,’ Ffion says flatly, but Ceri frowns.
‘I’d never have gone there. She said she’d meet me at the park, by the kids’ play area. She told me things she . . .’ Ceri flushes. ‘Things she wanted to do with me.’
‘Rhys was waiting for you, wasn’t he?’ Ffion says. Her voice is cold and Leo shifts in his seat. She shouldn’t be here. If they charge Ceri with Lloyd’s murder, the defence will look for every possible chink in the prosecution’s armour. Even if what Lloyd did to Ffion never comes to light – even if she has nothing to do with his death – she’s just too close to the case. How can she possibly be objective?
‘Him and a bunch of his mates. I was all dressed up and . . .’ Ceri brushes angry tears from her eyes. ‘So yeah. I hated him. Wouldn’t you?’
‘How did you feel about Rhys when he returned to Cwm Coed? When he built The Shore?’
‘I hated him even more.’
Ceri’s solicitor coughs. She looks at him, then shrugs. ‘I’m not going to lie. Yes, it was a long time ago; yes, he was a kid, but he made my life a misery. I lost all my confidence – I wouldn’t even go to the shops, in the end, in case I saw him. I didn’t have any friends, I didn’t go to art college . . . he ruined my life, and there he was, waltzing back into the village with all the trappings of success. I hated him for it.’
‘Enough to kill him?’ Leo says.
Ceri meets his gaze. ‘No.’
‘Do you know what this is?’ Ffion lifts the Rising Star award from the floor and places it on the table. It’s in a clear evidence bag, sealed with a red plastic tag.
‘It’s a trophy.’
‘Have you ever seen it before?’
‘No.’ Ceri’s eyes flick to the side. ‘Maybe. I don’t know.’
‘Which is it?’ Leo says. ‘No, maybe, or you don’t know?’
‘I don’t know!’ She blinks rapidly, pressing her hands against her thighs.
‘It has your fingerprints on it.’
‘I didn’t kill him.’
‘The thing is, Ceri,’ Ffion says, ‘Yasmin Lloyd gave tours to almost everyone at the party. No one remembers seeing you on one of them. So if you weren’t given a tour, why are your fingerprints on this award?’
There’s a long silence.
‘Okay.’ Ceri lets out a long breath. ‘I went up to Rhys’s office to deliver his post.’
‘Funny place to put a letterbox,’ Ffion says.
Ceri ignores the sarcasm. ‘If you must know, he tricked me. Again. He made me think he was out – talking to me on the phone, through the intercom. I put the parcel in his office and then I saw – I realised he—’ She swallows and looks at the table. ‘He was in the bedroom. Pretty much naked, watching me walk around his office.’