sharply to get the student to move. She didn’t need to be told twice and hurriedly escaped. Rose sat down in the now empty seat, leaned over towards him, tapped him on the shoulder.
‘Good book?’
He jumped, staring at her wide-eyed. She noticed he had the white buds of an iPod in his ears. She didn’t want to hazard a guess as to what he was listening to but, judging by the shabby way he was dressed and the way he had behaved the previous day, doubted it was anything fashionable.
He pulled the earpieces out, letting the tinny sound bleed out. He turned it off, looked at her. Fear and indignation fighting for dominance in his eyes.
‘What d’you want now?’
‘Ssh,’ Rose said, ‘we’re in a library.’
He looked round quickly, checked that no one was watching them, dropped his head and leaned in close. ‘Are you following me? This… this is, is harassment, you know.’
Rose raised an eyebrow.
‘I could have you… have you… struck off for this.’
‘That’s doctors not police officers,’ she said with a patronising smile.
‘So what d’you want?’ Resigned now. Take the pain, get it over with as quickly as possible.
‘Same thing we talked about yesterday, Mark. Suzanne. Seen the papers today? The news?’
He shook his head, unsure where this was going.
‘She’s disappeared. Her friend has been murdered and she’s disappeared.’
His mouth fell open. ‘Oh my God…’
Rose waited.
‘Did she… did she do it?’
‘What?’
‘Suzanne. Did she, did she kill her friend?’
‘State she was in? I doubt it. No. She’s missing. Someone broke in, killed her friend Zoe-’
‘Zoe… oh my God…’
‘-and took Suzanne.’ Rose sat back, looked at him, trying to gauge his reactions. So far his shock and horror seemed genuine. Her questions might change that. ‘Where were you last night?’
‘Last night?’
‘Yes. After I left you, where did you go?’
He looked around as if seeking someone to supply his answer for him. ‘I… I was at home.’
‘All night?’
He paused before answering, weighing his words carefully. ‘No…’
A small thrill ran through Rose. ‘Where were you?’
‘I… went to the pub.’
‘On your own?’
‘Yes.’
Another raised eyebrow from Rose.
‘Well, I mean I went on my own. But I met some people there. Some friends.’
‘How many?’
‘Four. No, five. Six, including me.’
‘And was your girlfriend there?’
A smile played over his lips. ‘No.’
‘Why’s that funny, Mark?’
‘Just… because. You’d think so if you knew her. If you knew my friends.’
‘And what are your friends like?’
He took a deep breath, let it out. Here it comes, thought Rose. They’re paedophiles. Or worse, gamers.
‘We’re a… film society.’
She sat back a little. ‘What sort of films?’
‘Horror.’
She crossed her arms. ‘Right. Video nasties, that kind of thing?’
‘All sorts. The university British Horror Film Society. We just get together upstairs in this pub-’
‘Which pub?’
‘The Freemason’s Arms. Military Road. New Town.’
Rose knew it, nodded. Motioned for him to continue.
‘Well, we… that’s it, basically. We sit and watch films on this huge video screen they’ve got there. Have discussions, a few drinks.’ He was becoming animated, interested in what he was saying. ‘Sometimes we get guest speakers. Kim Newman’s been.’
He said the name like Rose should have been impressed. She humoured him.
‘I’ll need their names,’ she said, taking out her notepad.
He gave her them.
‘And what did you watch last night?’
Light was shining in his eyes. ‘A double bill.
‘Yes,’ said Rose, ‘murder always is. And you were there the whole night?’
He nodded. Then leaned back, relieved. The relief brought with it a cocky light in his eyes. ‘So, you see, Detective Sergeant, I have an alibi. Once again.’
‘And you also have a key.’
The light went quickly out.
‘What?’
‘A key. To Suzanne’s flat. The one you never gave back. Where is it?’
He looked speedily round once again, head darting from side to side, appealing mutely for anyone to step in and help him.
‘The key, remember?’
‘I… don’t know where it is. I… haven’t seen it in ages.’
‘Why did you keep it?’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I just…’ Sighed. ‘I don’t know.’
Rose nodded.
‘I never gave it back. That’s all. She never asked for it and I never gave it back.’ He made an imploring gesture, desperate to be believed.
Rose looked at him, unblinkingly. She got the feeling that something was off with him but also knew she wouldn’t be getting any more out of him at the moment. She flipped her notepad closed, stood up.
‘That’s all for now, Mark. But stay where we can find you. We’ll want to talk to you again.’
She left him sitting there, pleased that she had managed to upset or unnerve him.
But her victory didn’t last long. She still had to negotiate the lift.
43
Phil stood in front of the door, hand out, ready to knock. He paused, waited.
A terraced street of old houses in New Town. Front doors leading directly on to the pavement, no gardens. Windows to the left and right so passers-by could stare right in, watch other people’s lives like television.
Colchester didn’t have high-rises or sprawling estates. Instead it had New Town. Streets and streets of old red-brick houses, curling and narrowing and circling in on itself, and nothing new about it. Drugs, prostitution, gangs… all thrived in, and were controlled from, New Town. Phil wasn’t naive, he didn’t think everyone who lived there was a criminal. But it was a poor area, and poverty, he knew both from studies and personal experience, created the conditions for crime to flourish. Poverty led to envy to anger to desperation. To crime. A doomed attempt at gentrification stood over the road by Aldi, a new, exclusive, gated development built right alongside the
