‘We’ve been to the theatre,’ Cara said, barely able to keep the triumph out of her voice. ‘It wasn’t there.’
‘Well, I’m not sure what I’ve done with it.’ I forced a smile to my lips, fighting the strange sensation that I was acting a part, that nothing I said or did was real any more. I had this extraordinary urge to confess, to say ‘I killed her!’ even though I hadn’t.
‘Perhaps we can help you,’ Cara said. She nodded at Mills.
‘We retrieved an ornamental dagger from the home of the deceased,’ Mills intoned, effortlessly slipping into the stilted language so loved by police officers. ‘And we can confirm it has a medallion with a silver design on the grip. That said medallion has come loose.’
‘Well, the daggers were cheap,’ I exclaimed. ‘They were all faulty!’
Cara shook her head. ‘We’ve already spoken to the other recipients,’ she told me. ‘Ewan Lloyd, the director. Sky Palmer, Jordan Williams and Tirian Kirke in the cast. They all have their daggers and we’ve been able to examine them. None of them have any loose parts. We’ve also contacted Ahmet Yurdakul, who assures us that there were only the five daggers given out at the London premiere.’
‘The dagger that killed Harriet Throsby is your dagger,’ Mills said.
‘No. That’s not possible.’
‘Then where is it?’
‘I just told you. I was very tired last night. It was late. I must have forgotten it and left it behind at the theatre.’
‘That’s not what you said a moment ago.’ Cara Grunshaw was merciless. ‘You told us it was upstairs.’
‘I thought it was.’
‘You lied to us.’
‘That’s ridiculous. Get out of my flat. I’m not talking to you without a lawyer.’
‘It’s a bit late for that, Anthony.’ Cara was enjoying herself. It was always possible that she really believed I had killed Harriet Throsby, but that didn’t matter. The identity of the killer was almost irrelevant. This was revenge for what I had done to her, feeding her the false story that had led to her humiliation.
She left the honours to Mills.
‘Anthony Horowitz,’ he said, ‘I am now arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Harriet Throsby at 27 Palgrove Gardens, W9. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if …’
You must know the words. I’ve written them enough times in enough books and police dramas. But I zoned out as he pronounced the formal police caution. I saw his lips moving but I didn’t hear anything. I was being arrested! No! That was insane.
And what was it, echoing in my brain, ricocheting around my skull, the one thing that could save me, the one person I needed to see right now?
Hawthorne.
6
One Phone Call
After he had arrested me, Mills went out to the car, leaving me alone with his boss. I was completely dazed. Perhaps I was even in shock. In all my time on the planet all I’d ever managed was a speeding ticket and now I was being arrested for murder? I couldn’t get my head around it. I asked her if I could make a phone call.
‘You can do that from the station,’ she said.
‘But I’ve got a phone here.’
She scowled at me but in a way that suggested she was enjoying every minute of this. ‘Did you really kill her because she gave you a bad review?’ she asked.
‘I didn’t kill anyone!’ I tried to appeal to her human side. ‘Look, if you’re annoyed with me because of what happened the last time we met, that really wasn’t my fault. I mean, I didn’t do it on purpose—’
‘It’ll go easier for you if you come clean,’ she interrupted.
She had no human side. For the next few minutes, she said nothing, sitting at my table like some sort of malevolent Buddha, unmoving and imperious, letting me sweat it out as I wondered what was going to happen next.
Then Mills returned. Cara got up and let him in – she wouldn’t even allow me to answer my own door phone and I marvelled at the way that, when the police take control of you, they assume almost total power. Mills was carrying a pile of oversized plastic bags, which he placed on the table. ‘You’re going to have to get changed,’ he said.
‘What?’ I was wearing a T-shirt and the same jeans I’d had on the night before. ‘Why?’
‘We need your clothes.’ He searched in the pile and pulled out a pale blue onesie with a zip up the front. It was made of a very thin fabric, like paper.