She paused, looking at Charlie again for a reaction.
She didn’t get one, so she continued.
‘Do you have any idea why anyone would be sending a bottle of sulphuric acid disguised as perfume, into you at your place of work?’
‘They didn’t. Not to me directly anyway… it was sent to the office.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Because we spoke to the bloke who deals with the mail, and he told us categorically that he would never put random stuff on somebody’s desk. Only personally-addressed letters would end up on their desk. Anything else goes to a different pile.’
Charlie swallowed hard. His mouth and throat were parched.
‘Then he must have made a mistake. He’s human. It happens. Can I get a drink, please?’
‘Sure, it’s your apartment.’
Charlie stood and walked to the open-plan kitchen at the opposite side of the room. He turned on the tap, grabbing a glass from the draining board. He filled the glass, knocked it back, filling it again. He returned to his seat slowly.
‘I’d like to remind you, Mr Carter, that lying to a police officer investigating a crime is an offence punishable by law. A very serious incident has occurred here. May I also remind you that an innocent girl has been permanently disfigured. If you know anything, you need to tell me.’
Charlie took another sip of water, stalling. Her eyes didn’t leave his face.
‘It’s my wife,’ he said finally.
‘Your wife?’
‘Yep. I think maybe… the perfume might have been meant for her.’
‘Why would you think that?’
‘Because of something that happened in her past. We suspect someone is targeting her.’
‘Okay, and your wife’s name is?’
The detective lifted her hand and tucked a lock of curly black hair behind her ear.
‘Beth. Her maiden name was Morton. But back then she was Kitty. Kitty Briscoe.’
43
Hot water spilled into the bathtub, mixing with scented oils, and the soothing fragrance of eucalyptus and rosemary filled Beth’s nostrils. She couldn’t stop thinking about her confrontation with Vicky in the office. Something had changed. She was being more threatening. More aggressive.
Beth left the bath to run, tying her robe around her, she made her way downstairs to refill her wine. She topped up her glass, placing the bottle back on the worktop. Turning to head back upstairs, she spun around at the last minute, grabbing it. She sipped, and the cool amber liquid flowed down her throat. As she drank, she tried to picture her life as it had been only a few weeks earlier.
How different everything was now. She would never have believed her life, which she had so meticulously crafted, could fall apart so quickly. It had all begun around about the same time that Vicky started at Greys. Those two things could not be coincidence.
She was dangerous. Beth was sure of it.
But why? What did any of this have to do with a girl who wouldn’t even have been born when Billy Noakes was murdered?
Beth took another sip, ambling into Peter’s room to retrieve his speakers. She searched under dirty laundry, old plates and general teenager junk. She found them beside the bed on the floor, hidden beneath some boxers which she hoped to God were clean. Returning to the bathroom, she opened the door as wide as it would go, propping it with a heavy ornament from the sideboard.
Flicking the speakers on, she paired her phone with them and turned the volume up as loud as it would go, placing them on the windowsill.
She scrolled through her music, searching for something appropriate, settling for a chilled moods playlist.
The first song was Debussy’s ‘Clare De Lune’, and Beth smiled to herself. It had always been one of her mother’s favourites.
Placing her glass on the floor beside her, she untied her robe, slipping it off her shoulders, letting it fall down. She tested the water with her hand, then placed one foot into the tub, then the other. She slowly lowered herself down with her back to the door, wincing as the hot, scented water stung her skin.
But it felt good.
The aromas swirled around her head with the steam, and she closed her eyes, allowing herself to relax for the first time in weeks. She clutched her glass, taking a large sip, then lay back into the tub.
The haunting melody blasted out, slightly tinny, but endlessly beautiful.
Vicky’s face flashed into her mind. Her frumpy clothes, her irritating smile.
Beth clenched her fist around the stem of the glass as the feelings consumed her.
She blinked it away, taking another gulp of wine.
A creak from the landing drew her attention. She peered awkwardly over her shoulder, through the vapour rising from the surface. She’d left Peter’s bedroom door open. It had caught in the breeze from an open window, blowing open further.
She slid back down into the water.
She wanted to wash the day away, the hotter the better.
Her phone buzzed from the floor beside the bath. She reached down, grabbing it, wiping her hand on a towel to read the message.
It was from Mikey.
Hey. Are you ghosting me?
Beth sat staring at the phone for a moment, considering her response.
No. Been busy.
Mikey’s reply came straight away.
Can I see you?
Beth didn’t want to lead him on. She’d behaved inappropriately. She hadn’t been in her right mind at the weekend, reeling from the shock of the dog, and Charlie walking out. She was drunk, and upset, and she had wanted to live someone else’s life for a moment.
She’d regretted it instantly.
I don’t think that’s a good idea.
Why?
You know why.
I need to see you.
No.
Beth tossed her phone on top of her robe and sunk back down, closing her eyes. As she dipped her head right under the water, the muted sound of the music rippled in her ears, distorted and ghostly. She opened her eyes and they stung a little from the oils. She stared straight up to the skylight above her. It was dark outside, so all she could see was her own reflection staring back at her, naked and reclining. Her hair splayed out
