“That I’d done something?”
“No! Anxious for you.”
“Why?”
“You’re my friend,” he said simply.
Tabitha’s throat hurt. She swallowed hard and said, “Did you notice anything else?”
“Like what?”
“Like did I have blood on me?”
He flinched. “No. I mean, I don’t think so. You had the blanket wrapped around you though. It was pretty dark.”
“So then what?”
“I asked you if you were OK and you mumbled something and kind of staggered back to the sofa and lay down. I didn’t know what to do. I tried to ask you about what we were going to do on the house the next day. I thought that might help. You know. Practical stuff.”
“Yes.”
“And then I said I’d bring in some of the planks so they wouldn’t be all frozen in the morning. I opened the back door. And you told me not to go out there.”
“Is that all?”
“I think so.”
“Did I sound urgent?”
“Kind of,” he said miserably.
“So why did you go out?”
He frowned. “I don’t know. I just thought you didn’t want me going into the cold.”
“Right,” said Tabitha. “That’s what I must have meant.”
“Yeah,” he said. He wasn’t looking at her. “I guess.”
“But I didn’t say that.”
“No. You were strange. Scary.”
“Andy.”
“Yes?”
“I didn’t do it.”
He looked at her. He was a handsome man, with his shaggy dark hair and his blue eyes. Little wonder that Shona had a thing for him.
“Of course not,” he said.
“Do you believe me?”
“You know I’m on your side.”
“Thanks.” Though it wasn’t really an answer.
“What did you think of him?”
“Stuart?” He gave a grimace.
“You’ve done work for him, haven’t you?”
“I put up a greenhouse last autumn and laid the new patio.”
“How was he?”
Andy shrugged. “I was just the guy doing the manual labor.”
“You mean he ignored you?”
“He was good at getting what he wanted out of people.”
Tabitha remembered what Laura had said about her husband making complaints.
“So he got what he wanted out of you?”
“That’s one way of putting it.”
“What do you mean?”
“He was a bit of an asshole, that’s all.”
Tabitha leaned forward. “Really? What do you mean by that?”
Andy shrugged. “He wasn’t the nicest person, that’s all. Liked getting his own way. An asshole.”
“Did other people think so too?”
“You’ll have to ask them.”
“When was the last time you were there?”
Andy considered. “I helped move a socking great sofa into the living room a few days before he died. He stood there and told me I needed to find a different angle. In the end, I had to take its feet off.”
“You didn’t see him the day he died?”
“No.”
“Where were you?”
“I was at Kenny’s, painting.”
“Was Kenny there?”
“No.”
They stared at each other.
“Why?” asked Andy at last.
“I need to find out who was in the village and where they were and when, and who they saw.”
“Sure. Well, as I say, I was at Kenny’s.”
They sat in silence, not meeting each other’s eye, then Tabitha said, “By the way, Shona came to see me.”
“I know.” Andy smiled and his face softened again. “She’s told everyone in the village. Multiple times.”
“Of course she has. What do you think of her?”
“Shona?” A strange expression crossed his face, almost furtive.
“Yes.”
“She’s OK. Friendly.”
“She’s very attractive.”
“I’ve never really thought about it.”
“She is.”
“What’s this about?”
“Nothing. She’s broken up with her boyfriend and—”
Andy gave a sudden shout of laughter. “I don’t believe it!”
“What?”
“Did she put you up to this?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“She did, didn’t she?”
“Not really.”
“It’s never going to happen.”
A bell was ringing. Tabitha ignored it.
“Let’s talk about something else.”
“Time’s up.”
She looked round and saw the thin warden with the sour face.
“It can’t be.”
“It is,” the warden said.
“I’m getting ready for my trial.”
“I don’t know anything about that.”
The warden had thin cheeks and eyes like raisins. She put a hand on Tabitha’s upper arm and her fingers dug in like pincers. Tabitha felt herself grow hot.
“Fuck off,” she said, shaking the woman off. Then she said it again, louder. Very loud.
Now there were two more wardens standing at the table.
“The governor’s not going to like this.”
As she was led away, she turned to see Andy watching her. He didn’t look happy.
She sat in front of her opened notebook but she couldn’t concentrate on anything. She was remembering the way Andy had looked at her. He had pitied her. The thought of it made her nauseous. She felt suddenly overcome by a heavy exhaustion so that she could barely keep her eyes open. It would be such a relief to sleep. To sleep and sleep and not to wake.
Twenty-Eight
“I’ve got a new idea.” Tabitha heard herself. She sounded like the head of a Girl Scout troop, the sort of person that she had always especially hated.
The new idea was that they would work on a letter together but this time Tabitha would dictate it and Dana would actually write it. Dana scowled.
“Is that allowed?”
“Why wouldn’t it be allowed? There are people in prison who can’t write and there are other people who write letters for them.”
“But you can write.”
“It doesn’t matter. This is good practice for you.”
“I’ll just feel stupid.”
“You’ll be helping me. In this letter I’m trying to persuade someone to do something. It’ll be good to have your point of view.”
So Tabitha sat Dana down at the table with a pen in her hand and a fresh piece of paper.
“He’s the local farmer,” Tabitha said. “I saw him down in the village that day.”
“What good is that going to do you?”
“There was hardly anyone in the village the day that Stuart Rees was killed. I want to talk to all of them. Someone may have seen something. Or heard something.”
“That can prove you didn’t do it?”
“That’s the idea.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. If I knew, I wouldn’t need to ask.” She thought for a moment. “‘Dear Rob.’ Actually his name is Robert but I’ve never heard anyone call him by that. Rob might be too casual. But then Robert might be too formal.”
“Do you want me to write something down?”
“Write ‘Dear Rob.’”
And then slowly, Tabitha dictated a letter to a man she had no reason to like,
