A glance between the two of them. ‘What makes you say that?’
‘It was bloody. Heavy and sharp. I saw the state of Brendan’s head. It doesn’t take a genius to work it out.’
Yates sighed. ‘We leave the forensic stuff to the experts, Ms Mackenzie.’ He made a show of that ‘Ms’, zedding it out long and sarcastic. He peered at her. ‘You don’t seem very upset.’
‘Should I be gnashing my teeth and tearing my hair out? Is that what good girlfriends do?’
Yates raised his eyebrows, a smile to Flannery. ‘I just thought you might be more upset by your boyfriend’s death, that’s all.’
Surtsey tightened her mouth. ‘You don’t know me. You don’t get to have an opinion about how I react to things.’
She sat back in the seat, felt the metal frame against her spine. ‘Can I go?’
Yates laughed. He lifted his hands from the table.
‘People keep dying around you, Surtsey,’ he said. She noted the use of her first name, tried to think if that was significant. ‘That’s a problem in my line of work.’
‘I wasn’t near either of them when they died,’ Surtsey said.
‘That remains to be seen.’
‘I’m telling you I wasn’t.’
‘But we can’t just take your word for it.’
‘Do you have any evidence?’
A look from Flannery to Yates suggested they hadn’t had much luck.
‘We know you were on your boat in the Forth on the night Tom died,’ Yates said.
‘So, no evidence.’
‘And you discovered Brendan’s body.’
‘Again, no evidence of me doing anything wrong.’
‘Then there’s your mother.’
Surtsey felt a tremor in her legs and wondered if it was a small quake. She stared at the men, flushed cheeks and shaving rashes on their necks, white shirts too tight across bellies.
‘Don’t bring Mum into this.’ She spoke as calmly as she could manage.
‘That’s three people close to you who have died in the last four days.’
‘I’m warning you.’
Flannery guffawed at that. Surtsey was shocked at the sound.
‘You’re warning us?’ he said, suddenly animated. ‘We’re the police, darling.’
Yates frowned at him, then at the tape machine.
‘Don’t fucking darling me,’ Surtsey said.
‘Language,’ Flannery said, drenched in sarcasm.
‘Fuck you.’
Flannery sank back in his seat smiling as Yates lifted a hand to quieten them both.
Surtsey turned to him. ‘And fuck you, too. Are you suggesting I had something to do with my own mum’s death? You sick bastard.’
‘Miss Mackenzie, please,’ Yates said.
Surtsey’s hand was at her neck as if she was being choked. She pushed her chair back with a scrape on the thin carpet and lowered her head to her knees, heaved air into her lungs. She blinked three times and black spots drifted across her eyeline. She could see the cops’ shoes under the desk, worn brown leather, square toes. She concentrated on the frayed lace of Flannery’s left shoe but it went out of focus. She realised she hadn’t breathed in a while and sucked in air. Eventually the dots disappeared from her vision and her head stopped throbbing. She sat up and leaned back in her seat. The two cops looked at her like her hair was made of snakes.
‘We spoke to your housemate, Miss Malik.’
Surtsey’s eyes widened. ‘Where is she?’
‘At home.’
‘But I was just there.’
‘It seems you missed her.’
‘Is she OK?’
‘Why wouldn’t she be OK?’ Yates said, eyes like slits.
‘I just haven’t seen her. Maybe she’s avoiding me.’
‘Why would she avoid you?’
Surtsey stared at Yates. ‘No idea.’
Yates consulted his notes. ‘She confirmed your new, improved alibi – that you were out in the boat earlier and had forgotten. It seems she forgot as well, until recently.’
‘There you go.’
‘It stinks,’ Yates said, sighing. ‘It’ll never stand up in court.’
‘I’m innocent,’ Surtsey said. ‘And you don’t have any evidence against me.’
‘We’re working on that,’ Flannery said.
‘Good for you.’
Yates took over. ‘We should have the results from the boat and your clothing in the next few hours. That will be interesting.’
‘You think?’
‘And we have this,’ he said, lifting a piece of typed paper from the desk. ‘It’s a warrant to search your house.’
‘This is harassment.’
‘You’d know it if we were harassing you,’ Flannery said.
Yates frowned and shook his head at his colleague.
Surtsey felt weariness in her bones. She eased out of the seat and stood up, which took the cops by surprise.
‘Are we done?’
‘Sit down,’ Yates said.
‘Are you going to arrest me?’
Yates stared at her for a long time before shaking his head. ‘Not yet.’
‘Then I’m leaving.’
She walked towards the door, hands shaking, legs weak. She made it out of the room, down the corridor and round the corner before she burst into tears.
37
She stood blinking like an idiot outside the police station. She checked her watch but didn’t register what it said. She turned to look at the station, at the clock tower of the old Victorian building. It looked like something from a 70s kids’ show. She couldn’t make out the hands of the clock from this angle, her eyes still blurry with tears. She had to shade her eyes from the fuzz of the bright sky beyond, high cloud like muslin draped over the planet.
Two old women were sitting on the bench outside the station having a fag. One had a tartan trolley for her shopping, the other a metal walking stick with a rubber stopper on the end.
‘You all right, love?’
Surtsey tried to focus. ‘What?’
‘Saw you come out the station, just checking you’re all right.’
Surtsey shook her head. ‘Fine.’
‘Hey.’ This was from behind her, loud and in her direction.
Surtsey turned and saw Alice clambering out of her car parked at the bus stop across the road. The windows were wound down and Surtsey could see the girls in the back in their booster seats. Belle was chomping on a Freddo and Gracie was looking sternly at her mum’s back.
Alice barely glanced along the road then ran across between a white van and a bus. She landed on the pavement in front of Surtsey, manic look on her face.
‘What are you doing?’ she said.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You can’t
