Students ambled up and down the street carrying backpacks or shoulder bags, wearing T-shirts and jeans; nobody seemed in a hurry.
That was the life, Winsome thought. They didn’t have to deal with people like Templeton or face the dead bodies of young women first thing on a Sunday morning. And she bet they indulged in night after night of sweaty guiltless sex. She felt as if she could sit there forever sipping coffee looking out on the sunshine, and a sense of childhood peace came over her, the kind she had felt back at home during the long, hot, still days when all she could hear was birds and the lazy clicking of banana leaves from the plantation.
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But it didn’t last. Before she had finished, the young man walked out of the door, glanced around as he went down the steps, and turned up the street. Winsome picked up her briefcase and shoulder bag and set off in pursuit, leaving the rest of her latte. She had decided it would be best simply to approach him and have done with it. She was a police officer and he was a witness, at the very least.
“Excuse me,” she called, as he was about to turn a corner.
He stopped, a puzzled expression on his face, and pointed his thumb to his chest. “Moi?”
“Yes, you. I want a word with you.”
“What about?”
Winsome showed him her warrant card. “Hayley Daniels,” she said.
“I know who you are, but I don’t know—”
“Don’t give me that. You were in the market square with her on Saturday night. We’ve got you on CCTV.”
The boy turned pale. “I suppose I . . . well . . . let’s go in here.” He turned into a cafe. Winsome didn’t want another coffee. Instead, she settled for a bottle of fizzy water while the boy, who said his name was Zack Lane, spooned sugar into his herbal tea. “Okay,” he said. “I knew Hayley. So what?”
“Why didn’t you come forward? You must have known we’d catch up with you eventually.”
“And get involved in a murder investigation. Would you have come forward?”
“Of course I would,” said Winsome. “What’s the problem if you haven’t done anything wrong?”
“Huh. Easy for you to say.” He paused and examined her closely.
“On the other hand, maybe it’s not that easy. You ought to know better than most.”
Winsome felt herself bristle. “What do you mean by that?”
“Oh, come on. I can’t even imagine why you’d want to be a cop.
Someone like you. I’ll bet your mates aren’t too thrilled, are they?
Always getting pulled over on sus because they’re black. All you have to do is walk down the street and they —”
“Shut up. Stop right there,” said Winsome, holding her palm up, and something in her tone stopped him in his tracks. “I’m not here to 1 4 2 P E T E R
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discuss racism or my career choices with you. I’m here to ask you questions about Hayley Daniels. Got that? You said you knew who I was when you saw me. How?”
Zack smiled. “There aren’t any other black coppers in Eastvale,” he said. “None except you, as far as I know, and you’ve had your photo in the paper. I can’t say as I’m surprised, either. It didn’t do you justice.
Should have been page three.”
“Knock it off,” said Winsome. Shortly after she had been sent to Eastvale, the local paper had done a feature on her. She managed a smile. “You must have been very young back then.”
“I’m older than I look. Grew up just down the road. I’m a local lad.
My dad’s an alderman, so he likes us all to keep in touch with the beating pulse of the metropolis.” He laughed.
“You just went to see Malcolm Austin.”
“So? He’s my tutor.”
“Any good, is he?”
“Why, thinking of enrolling as a mature student?”
“Stop being cheeky and answer my questions.”
“Lighten up.”
“Lighten up?” echoed Winsome in disbelief. Isn’t that what Annie had said to her last night? She thought of making some sarcastic remark about it being difficult for someone of her color, but instead she prodded him in the chest and said, “Lighten up? I was one of the first on the scene to see Hayley’s body on Sunday morning, so don’t tell me to lighten up. I saw her lying there dead. She’d been raped and strangled.
So don’t tell me to lighten up. And you’re supposed to be a friend of hers.”
Zack’s face had gone pale now, and he was starting to appear contrite. “All right. I’m sorry,” he said, sweeping back his hair. “I’m shaken up about Hayley, too, you know. I liked her, the silly cow.”
“Why silly cow?”
