20
There was a knock at the door.
The tension was broken. Anthony Howe straightened up, looked at the door, frowning as if emerging from sleep. His features changed, his eyes no longer darkly lit.
‘Come in,’ he called.
The door opened. A young man, dark-haired, tall, dressed in regulation student-issue jeans and sloganed T- shirt, stood there. He was about to speak but saw Anni sitting there, stopped.
‘Yes, Jake,’ Anthony Howe said.
The student looked between the two of them, uneasily. ‘Um… we had a meeting?’
‘Did we? Thought I was…’ Howe looked at his watch. ‘Right. Sorry. Just a few more minutes. Not be long.’
Jake pointed towards the corridor. ‘Shall I…’
‘Please.’
He left, closing the door behind him. The silence in the room was like the inside of a human heart; Anni could hear, feel, the blood rushing round her body.
‘Right,’ said Howe, finding a pen on his desk suddenly fascinating enough to lift up and toy with in his fingers, ‘you mentioned Suzanne Perry?’ His voice had changed. Softer, reasoned. Back in control.
‘Yes, I did.’
‘Why? That subject, as far as I’m concerned, is closed.’
‘Perhaps.’ Anni crossed her legs, looked down at her notepad, pen poised over the page. ‘Can I just ask you where you were last night?’
‘I was-’ He pulled his eyes off the pen, back to her. ‘Can I ask why you need to know that?’
‘If you could just answer the question, please.’
He sighed. Anni watched his eyes. He seemed to be deciding how best to answer the question, what tone to take, what information to give. ‘I… was at home.’
‘Alone?’
‘Yes.’
‘You live alone?’
‘I… we’re separated. My wife and I.’
‘And there was no one with you?’
‘Please tell me what this is concerning.’
His voice was rising. Anni kept hers steady, her gaze level.
‘In a moment. If you could just answer the question, please.’
‘As I said, I was at home.’
‘And what did you do there?’
‘I… made dinner. Then I read for a while. Watched some TV.’
‘What did you watch?’
He looked startled by the question. ‘Why do you need to know that? Are you making, making some kind of value judgements about me?’
‘No. I just wanted to know what you watched.’
‘A soap opera.
‘About what?’
‘Byzantine art.’
‘That something you’re interested in?’
‘Not particularly. It was on and I, I… can you tell me what this is about, please?’
‘And what did you do after that?’
‘Had a whisky. Went to bed. What I normally do.’
‘And that was it for the night?’
He nodded. Anni didn’t reply.
‘Am I supposed to have done something? Does this involve Suzanne?’
The dark fire returned to his eyes when he mentioned her name. Dark. Nasty, Anni would have said.
‘It does,’ she said. ‘Suzanne Perry was attacked last night.’
He recoiled, as if the news had hit him in a physical way.
‘Attacked… where?’
‘In her flat.’
‘How?’
‘Someone came in while she was sleeping, into her bedroom. ’
‘My God…’ He looked again at the pen, thought of picking it up once more, then decided against it. ‘Did he… what happened?’ And then, before she could answer, almost as if he didn’t want to hear the answer to his question, he said, ‘Was she hurt?’
‘We don’t think so.’
Anthony Howe shook his head. ‘Oh dear…’ Then a realisation seemed to dawn on his face. He looked directly at Anni. ‘You think I did it?’
She said nothing.
His anger rose. ‘You think I did it? I… somehow… made my way into her flat and, and… you think that was me, that I could do that?’
Anni kept her voice professionally calm and even. ‘We don’t know, Mr Howe. There was no sign of forced entry. Whoever it was must have been known to Suzanne. Probably had a key.’
Howe sat there, staring at the wall, saying nothing.
‘And since you and Suzanne have, shall we say, a history, I thought I should pay you a visit.’
Still nothing.
‘What did happen between you and Suzanne, Mr Howe?’
‘Professor.’
‘Professor.’ So much for informality, she thought. ‘What happened?’
He sighed. ‘She destroyed my marriage.’ His voice was small, fragile. ‘I… We had an affair. That was that.’ He looked at Anni. No trace of any anger in his eyes now. No trace of anything but sadness. ‘That was that.’
‘And the stalking? The phone calls?’
‘It ended badly. Animosity. Accusations.’
‘But was there any-’
‘It ended badly. That’s all I’m saying.’
Anni didn’t press him. ‘So,’ she said instead, ‘last night-’
‘I was at home. All night.’
‘No one to vouch for that?’
Bitterness entered his voice. ‘I didn’t know I would need anyone to.’
‘Do you still have a key to Suzanne’s flat?’
‘I never had one in the first place.’
‘But you’re still in touch with her.’
‘No.’ Said very quickly.
‘But you’re-’
‘I said no. She destroyed my marriage. Offered me her body if I gave her a first. Then, when it all went wrong, went to the police, to you lot, told them lie after lie about me. I’m lucky to still have a job here.’ He leaned towards her once more, anger informing his features. ‘So after all that, would I really stay in touch with her? Really?’
The mobile on his desk rang, stopping Anni from giving an answer.
‘Excuse me.’ He leaned forward, picked it up ready to answer. Checked the read-out. Stopped.
It kept ringing.
