Cole wondered what that meant. Was she innocent? He knew the answer to that. It was an emphatic no. He’d been there. He’d seen what went on. The police hadn't. Perhaps he should call the police again? But he’d already given a statement. And the old bill made him uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. He scratched the back of his head. If investigations were on-going, that must mean they didn't have enough evidence against her yet. Was ‘on-going investigation’ the same as ‘pending further investigation’? Cole decided it was.
He looked up to the photo of Daz on his mantelpiece. “What do you reckon bruv? What’s that? Yeah. I hear you. A few more tweets, huh? Yeah. Reckon I should and all.”
Cole thumbed on his phone.
Police release #champagneterrorist #AliceMadsen aka @TVGirlAlice pending further investigation. #guiltybitch #lockherup This is WRONG!!!
When he posted the tweet, he shared it to his FaceBook page and put the phone down. A pang of hunger made him think of breakfast, and a craving for the full English drove him out of the flat and down to Sharon’s Cafe. If his hangover went away, he’d go see Daz in the hospital. And if it didn’t, well he’d worry about that later. He grinned to himself as he admired his tweet. Several people had already retweeted it. Alice Madsen wouldn't get away. No way.
32
Alice found an available SAS flight from Heathrow to Copenhagen for Tuesday afternoon, then booked six nights in a nice city centre hotel. When she printed out her receipts and a boarding pass, she called Connie in Copenhagen.
“Yay Alice. Hvordan går det?”
“I’m fine. All things considered. You heard?”
“I spoke with Kristin late last night. I tried to call you, but…”
“Sorry. I switched off my phone after I rang Kris. I needed to zone out. Listen, I’m coming over tomorrow.”
“Yay. Great. You’ll stay with us?”
“No. But thanks.”
“What do you mean no? Yes. Yes.”
“I booked six nights in the Petri.”
“Cancel it.”
“There are things I need to do.”
“Like what?”
“See my mother. My brothers…” Alice twirled her hair with her fingers. “…and you know.”
“No. I don't. Tell me. Secret lover?”
Alice sighed. “No. It’s not. It’s…”
“Oh.”
“Yes. Oh. Of all people you should understand.”
“Oh.”
Alice shook her head and pulled hard at her hair. “Sorry. Sorry Connie. That sounds bad. Rude.”
“Just a little.”
“Damn it. I’m wound up tight. I so need to chill.”
“Hey, I’m sorry too. I should have understood. I was so pleased to hear from you, I kinda forgot, but then, you know… Tell you what, let’s talk when you get here. It’s better that way.”
Alice laughed. “You’ll give me a free session?”
Connie laughed too. “You know I can't do that. We’re too close. But if you want, I can arrange for you to see someone while you're here?”
“I don't know.”
“You ever see someone?”
“No.”
“Perhaps it’s time?”
“Yeah maybe. But I’ve got a lot on my mind. Have you seen what they’re saying on Twitter?”
“Don't look, Alice. Take that as the best counselling advice you’ll ever get. Do. Not. Look. Okay?”
“I suppose.”
“Suppose isn't good enough. Promise me?”
“All right. I promise.”
“Good. Call me when you get to the hotel tomorrow. We’ll celebrate that new show of yours.”
33
The following afternoon, Cole left Hammersmith Hospital and turned left onto Du Cane Road. He walked to the bus stop at Imperial College, leaned against the college rails and took out his phone. The image of Daz connected to wires and tubes proved difficult to shake. Daz just lay on the bed, silent and helpless. Unable to respond to anything. And no doctor could say when Daz would wake up.
Cole felt the need to do something. To take control. But there was little he could do. He considered another tweet about Alice Madsen, but he wasn’t getting much reaction. It would be much better if she were to engage. How could he engineer that? Perhaps he should learn more about her? As he had her address from the TV, why not have a look in person? He opened an app on his phone where he mapped a route to Portobello Road and saw he could walk it in half an hour.
Aware of the forecast for scattered summer showers with a risk of thunder, he glanced up to the sky. It didn't look like rain, so he put his phone away and began to walk. As he passed the Pavilion pub on the corner of Wood Lane and North Pole Road, he felt the spatter of several heavy rain drops, and he upped his pace. Before long, the spatters increased, and he ran to shelter beneath the railway bridge ahead. A low rumble of thunder sounded, and hail clattered on cars with a tinny noise.
Several people jostled on the pavement beneath the bridge and encroached on Cole’s space. Liable to mouth off to anyone at best, or smack someone at worst, Cole looked down the street for somewhere else to go. There was a small cafe by the bridge, and he pushed his way past a couple who brushed hail from their clothes.
A bell jingled when he opened the door and customers looked up to check him out before returning to their food. Cole sat at a vacant table by the wall and picked up a menu, although he already knew he would order the all-day breakfast. Yesterday’s full English had done the trick with his hangover, and while he didn't have a hangover today, he figured the all-day breakfast offered the best value for money.
He waited for several minutes, but no-one came to him. The girl sitting on a stool behind the counter thumbed on
