Friend of the Devil

“No-o-o. Not really. I mean, my mum’s okay, but my dad . . .”

“What about your dad?”

“Oh, he’s just always on at me, the way I dress, the way I talk, chew gum, the music I listen to.”

Banks smiled. “Mine was the same. Still is.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“It’s funny,” she went on. “I tell myself I don’t really like them, like they’re really naff and all, but at times like this . . .” A tear rolled down her cheek.

“I know,” said Banks. “Don’t worry. You’ll soon be with them.

Soon be tucked up safe and warm in your own bed.”

Chelsea wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. “I was just, like, rooted to the spot. I didn’t know what was happening. The one who was following me just stopped and seemed surprised. I don’t think he knew what had happened to him. I didn’t know. I felt something warm spray on my face, and I think I might have screamed. It was all so fast and so ordinary.”

“What did he do next?”

“He went down on his knees. I could hear the cracking sound. I remember thinking it must have hurt, but he didn’t cry out or anything; he just looked surprised. Then he put his hand to his throat, like, and took it away and stared at it, then he fell forward right on his face on the f lags. It was terrible. I just stood there. I didn’t know what to do. I could feel all this . . . stuff on me, warm and sticky stuff, like from a spray, and I didn’t know at first it was blood. It’s silly, but I thought he’d sneezed or something, and I thought, Great, now I’ll get a cold and I won’t be able to go to work. I don’t get paid if I’m not there, you see.”

“Did you get a look at his attacker at all?”

“No. Like I said, she was smaller than him, so most of the time he was in the way, in front, blocking her from view, and then afterward, when he fell, she just sort of melted back into the shadows and I couldn’t see her anymore.”

“You said she.”

F R I E N D O F T H E D E V I L

2 7 9

“Did I?”

“Yes.”

Chelsea frowned. “Well, I don’t know. That must have been the impression I got. Maybe because she was so small and slight. I can’t be certain, though.”

“Could it have been a man?”

“I suppose so. But I did get the overwhelming impression that it was a woman. I don’t really know why, and I couldn’t swear to it, of course.”

“Did you see any of her features?”

“No. She was wearing a hat. I remember that, too. Like a beret or something. It must have been the way she moved that made me think she was a woman. I couldn’t be certain, though. Maybe I was mistaken.”

“Maybe,” said Banks, with a glance toward Winsome, who indicated that she was getting it all down. “But it could have been a woman?”

Chelsea thought for a moment and said, “Yes. Yes, I think it could have been.”

“What was she wearing?”

“Dark clothing. Jeans and a black jacket. Maybe leather.”

“Could you have a guess at the age?”

“I never got a good look at her. Sorry. Not really old, though, I mean, you know, she moved fast enough.”

“What happened next?” Banks asked.

“I think I screamed again, then I ran for the market square, by The Fountain. I knew that was where I had the best chance of finding a policeman, and even if there wasn’t one standing around watching all the fun, the station’s just across the square. Well, you know that.”

“Good thinking,” said Banks.

Chelsea shivered. “I still can’t believe it. What was going on, Mr.

Banks? What did I see?”

“I don’t know,” said Banks. “All I know is that you’re safe now.” He glanced toward Winsome, who took Chelsea’s hand.

“Come on, love,” she said. “Let me take you back to your parents.

They’ll take you home.”

“What about my clothes?”

2 8 0

P E T E R R O B I N S O N

“We’re going to have to keep them for the moment to do some tests,” Banks said. “The blood. It helps our forensic scientists. We’ll see if Dr. Wong can rustle up something temporary for you.”