highlighter must already have been running out, dismissed the game she was playing as void. She gathered the statements in a ragged pile and dropped them into a drawer. She looked for Cole. She looked for Walter.
‘Looking for me, sweetheart?’
He was behind her. He was at her shoulder and she had not noticed.
‘You wish,’ she said. Then, hating herself even before she spoke: ‘Walter, wait a minute. What’s happening? Do you know what’s happening with the case?’ She had meant to sound earnest and professional. Her voice was needy and weak. She heard it and Walter heard it. His smile unfurled in stages: first the left corner, then the right, then the hoisting of his upper lip. His mouth parted and his tongue poked through. It twitched and curled upwards, caressing the yellowed enamel of his teeth.
‘Never mind,’ Lucia said. ‘Forget it, never mind.’
She made to spin her chair but Walter stuck out his hand and caught it before she could turn away.
‘Lulu, Lulu. Don’t be embarrassed. I’ll tell you what you want to know.’
‘I said forget it, Walter. Forget I mentioned it.’
‘I’ll tell you what you want to know,’ Walter said, ‘but first I need you to answer me one question.’
Walter had let go of her chair. She could have turned away but she did not. She folded her arms. She raised her eyebrows.
‘Tell me,’ Walter said. ‘What is it about beards?’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Beards. What is it about them? It’s the way they tickle, am I right? You like the way beards tickle. Down there.’
‘I haven’t got time for this, Walter.’
‘Because I can grow one. If you’d like me to. If a beard would turn you on.’
Lucia rolled her eyes and twisted away. She clicked her way to her inbox and found it empty. She selected a folder, opened an email at random. She studied it.
‘It’s the only thing I can think of.’ He was addressing the room now. Lucia closed the email and opened another. Without registering who had sent it, she hit reply and started typing. ‘The beard, I mean. I can’t think of any other reason why you’d have a thing for this Szajkowski.’
‘I don’t have a thing for him, Walter. Don’t be absurd.’ She spoke to her screen.
‘So what is it, Lulu? If you don’t have a thing for him, what’s got your knickers up your crack? Why are you so desperate to defend him? To pick on the school instead?’ He took hold of her chair again and forced her round. ‘Come on, admit it. It’s the beard isn’t it? Charlie. Hey Charlie! You’re in luck my son. Lulu here has a thing for facial pubes.’
Charlie grinned. He licked a finger and ran saliva across his moustache.
‘Walter, I’m busy. Let go of my chair.’
‘You don’t look busy, Lulu. You haven’t looked busy all day.’ He tightened his grip, leant in close. ‘I’ve seen you watching me. I’ve seen that hunger in your eyes.’
‘Walter, let go.’ Lucia wrenched her chair just as Walter removed his hand. She spun and hit her knee against her desk. She bit down on her cry just as it threatened to escape her mouth.
‘Walter. Get in here.’ It was Cole, watching from the door to his office.
Walter held up a finger.
‘Would you shoot me, Lulu? Just because we have our fun. Would you shoot me and say that I deserved it? That I provoked you?’
Lucia held her knee. She did not answer.
‘It’s the same thing, isn’t it? Answer me, Lulu. Would you shoot me?’
Ignoring the pain, she got to her feet. ‘No, Walter. I wouldn’t shoot you. That would be like admitting that you bothered me.’ She bumped shoulders with Walter as she passed him. ‘Besides,’ she said and she turned. ‘A bullet would be too quick. You wouldn’t feel it. No, Walter. I’d use something blunt.’
The car park was beneath the building, not quite underground but covered and hemmed in by thick concrete columns. The light was poor. The sun had not yet set, though it was dragging the day with it as it dipped towards the horizon. Lucia peered into her bag for her keys. She gave up and tried rummaging with her hand. She shook the bag, peered in again.
She was late heading home only because she had waited for Cole to leave first. After that she had waited for Walter. She had hoped Cole would tell her something, that Walter might let something slip. Neither one of them had obliged. Instead, she would have to read about it in the papers. She would hear it on the news. It was her case but she would hear what had been decided on the news.
Lucia’s Volkswagen was parked in the corner furthest from the stairwell, opposite a line of empty squad cars. She reached it before she had found her keys. The light on the wall was faulty: it buzzed and it fizzed and it flickered on and off. Lucia angled the bag towards it. She cursed, dropped on to the balls of her feet and tipped the contents of the bag on to the floor. She found the car keys immediately. She swore again, scooped up the keys and refilled her bag. With her hands pressing on her unbruised knee, she struggled upright.
Walter had hold of her throat before she realised he was there. The bag dropped and the keys dropped and he had her against the wall. She saw his face in the light and then his silhouette and then his face again and she was thinking, that’s twice now, that’s twice I didn’t hear him coming. She could smell him. She could smell his hair, like hotel pillows beneath their cases; his breath, sour and needing water. She could smell oranges. His fingers across her mouth, they smelt of oranges, as though he had been peeling one while he had been waiting.
‘Something blunt. That’s what you said, isn’t it? Something blunt.’ He hissed. As he hissed he spat, he sprayed.
Lucia struggled. She tried swinging an arm but found it pinned. She tried lifting a leg but could barely shift her foot. Walter was against her, his thighs trapping hers, his elbows across her shoulders, his weight keeping her down.
‘How’s this?’ he said and he was wriggling now, the hand on her throat slipping downwards. ‘How’s this for something blunt?’ He shoved her away and she fell, grazing the wall and rebounding from her car. She gagged. She tried to stand and turned her ankle. She tried again. She looked at Walter.
He had his flies open. He had his dick in his hand.
‘How’s this?’ he said again and he moved closer. His crotch was level with Lucia’s eyes. ‘Is this the sort of thing you had in mind?’
Lucia gagged again. She tried to shout but found herself croaking. ‘Get away from me. Get the fuck away from me.’ She raised one hand to her throat. She held out the other in front of her, fingers curled, nails at the ready.
Walter stopped inches from Lucia’s hand. ‘Don’t get overexcited, ’ he said. ‘That’s as close as I’m going to let you get. I just want to show you what you’re missing. What you’re missing and what you’re lacking.’
Lucia swiped but Walter was ready. ‘Whoa! Easy, tiger.’ He cackled. He inched forwards again. ‘Do you see, Lulu? Do you see what I’m telling you? What I’m showing you? You need one of these to do this job. You need two of these.’ He cupped it, thrust towards her with his hips.
Lucia cringed. She withdrew her hand.
‘That’s your problem. That’s why you’re in the mess you’re in.’ He tucked away the thing he was holding. He bent at the waist and zipped his fly. ‘Let me give you some advice, Lulu. Grow some balls. Lose the lip and grow some balls. Because having one and not the other is going to get you into trouble.’
‘Is that it?’ Lucia wheezed. She was still on the floor, still crouched at Walter’s feet. ‘Is that all there is?’
Walter grinned. He shrugged. ‘It may not look like much, darling. But it’s enough to stop me getting weepy about some immigrant kid-killing freak. And if you like—’ he reached for his fly again ‘—if you like I can show you just how big this pal of mine can get.’
‘Walter. Hey, Walter!’
Walter turned and Lucia turned. It sounded like Harry but Lucia could see only Walter and concrete and car.
‘Everything okay? You lost something?’
