This thaws the ice. I knew he'd like his ego massaged. I also knew he'd be too dumb to realise I'm taking the piss.
"And you promise that you aren't holding anything back? That you are telling us everything you know?"
"Promise."
The stiff puts away his pen, looks ready to go get a coffee, maybe a biscuit, possibly a sugar donut.
"Am I free to go, DCI Reeves?"
"You've always been free to go, Marcus."
DAY TWENTY-THREE 23RD JUNE 1988
Lisa James pulls her wrist close to her eyes and then squints. Jesus. 4am. Good girls weren't supposed to be out having an absolutely fabulous time at this hour. They were supposed to be tucked up in bed, wishing that they could be out having an absolutely fabulous time. This might possibly be the best night of her life ever.
The night had started like any other. There had been no signs that this night would be different, would be special. They met at seven on Nolton Street, making the most of the cheaper drinks in the pubs, returning from the bar with two drinks each, spilling most on the floor. Lisa remembered smiling at her reflection in the mirror in the third pub, pouting her lips and blowing a kiss. She looked so much prettier after a handful of drinks, particularly through glazed eyes.
By the time they reached the final pub the handsome barman in a black waistcoat had already told her off for dancing on the table. The leery men didn't seem to mind; they cricked their necks to look up her skirt. Her friends assumed, as they always did, because they didn't take the time to look – not really – that Lisa was the life of the party. Everything was always skin deep; they never talked about anything serious, anything that mattered. Lisa longed to tell them that she often dragged herself out of bed in the mornings, that she drunk buckets full of alcohol just to numb the taunting thoughts, to bring the occasional glimmer of light to the dark clouds that followed her. One particular night, she drank enough to tell her mate that she sometimes stood on the platform in the mornings, surrounded by the same grey faces as the day before and the day before that, and thought about jumping off just as the train arrived. Lisa looked up, ready for the aghast reaction, to be told she needed help, but her friend had her eyes closed, dribble trickling from the corner of her mouth. Lisa never bothered opening up again, never attempted to remove the mask with the curled red smile, just like the Joker.
They were huddled around a large round table in the club when she first spotted him, stood on his own, dressed all in black, blending into the shadows. How could somebody so beautiful be so innocuous? At first, he was merely an interesting outline through her glass. It was only once she'd downed her drink and slammed it down (with a wet splash) on the table that she realised the interesting outline was looking at her. He signalled with his middle finger for her to come over. Oh, that line, Lisa thought. If I can make you come with my little finger, imagine what I can do with the rest of me. She glanced around the table to check whether any of her friends had noticed. They'd either mock or patronise; she didn't fancy either option. Luckily, they didn't appear to have spotted him. Lisa told them she was taking a leak, wetting the lettuce. They pointed and laughed, like they were in the presence of that comedian who'd died on stage a few years ago: Tommy Cooper was it? They all said she was the funny one which, Lisa felt, was the same as saying she was the one with a personality as opposed to looks.
Fuck it. Her chair scraped along the floor. She shimmied her hips as she walked up to the guy, still half-expecting it to be a mistake, to be a joke. Lisa was ready for this boy to put her in her place, ready to sneak off to the toilet like they'd never exchanged a look, never uttered a word. At least enough alcohol flowed through her body to make a joke of it, to laugh it off.
"You look like you're having a good time," the guy said, widening his grey eyes. His tone was friendly. There was no indication that he was mocking her.
"Girls' night out, isn't it..."
There was adventure in his eyes. Right at that moment, Lisa felt like she'd do anything he asked her to do.
"I'm leaving here. Looking to broaden my horizons. Make the most of my night. Don't like routine. I prefer the unexpected. Why don't you come with me, become part of my evening?"
Lisa brushed one hand through her strawberry hair and the other along the contours of his firm arm.
"That's outrageous," she said, laughing. She let the words linger. She longed for him to contradict them. "I don't know you. I don't even know your name."
The boy smiled. "It is outrageous. I know. And no, you don't. But if you knew my name then I wouldn't be a complete stranger, would I? But you want to come with me, don't you?"
Lisa both nodded and shook her head all in one motion. The boy started laughing, and she did, too.
"Where you heading to? How are you going to broaden your horizons? Isn't this all just talk? Cliché? Dare I say it: bullshit?"
Lisa knew her eyes wandered
