‘About Natalie.’
His expression remained unchanged but a tic had appeared in the corner of his left eye. Peering out of the front door in the direction of the park he muttered something that sounded like ‘five minutes’, then walked back into the house, leaving the door ajar.
Karen followed him into the narrow hallway. ‘Look, this won’t take a moment.’
‘What’s your name? Do I know you?’
‘No, but I’m a friend of Joanne’s.’
He yanked up his track suit bottoms and she caught a glimpse of the thick bandage that covered the lower part of his right leg. His breath stank of beer and she doubted if the fact that he seemed unsteady on his feet was simply the effect of the sprained ankle.
Pushing open the living room door he limped inside and flopped onto the nearest chair with the damaged leg stretched out in front of him. The television was on with the sound turned off. Some Australian soap opera about doctors and nurses. A woman with a stethoscope round her neck was just about to kiss a man who looked young enough to be her son.
‘Well,’ said Liam, glaring at her through half-closed eyes, ‘spit it out.’
‘It’s about the murder,’ she said, moving her chair round to avoid the glare of the sun in her eyes.
‘They think I did it,’ he said, stretching out his arm to search for a can of lager that had been left on the floor beside his chair.
Karen handed it to him. ‘Yes, I know.’
‘If it’s money you’re after you’ve come to the wrong place.’
‘No, of course not, nothing like that.’ Did he really think she would be stupid enough to turn up at the house and try to blackmail him or something?
‘All right then, you’ve found some evidence that’ll let me off the hook. If it was something incriminating you’d be talking to the old Bill.’
‘Joanne thinks you’re innocent,’ she said. ‘She’s certain you didn’t kill her sister.’
He closed his eyes and for the first time Karen could see what Russell had meant when he said Liam had flashy good looks if you like that kind of thing. His hair was jet black, and so were his long, thick eyelashes. He looked unwell. No, not ill exactly, just the way you would expect someone to look if they had stayed at home for weeks with no exercise or fresh air, living off a diet of lager and crisps.
Then she remembered the football. ‘I suppose you’ll be out of the team for several weeks,’ she said, trying to sound genuinely sympathetic.
He stared at her. ‘What team? Dropped me didn’t they, said I wasn’t fit. That’s what they told me but of course what they really meant . . .’
‘You mean they dropped you after Natalie died?’
‘Not immediately. Lost my job too. Used to work for the council as a gardener. Not that I was all that sorry. Murder, it was, strimming all the rough grass down by the river.’
His voice was slurred and there was froth at the edge of his mouth. Karen was surprised he was prepared to talk to her, but just recently she had discovered a lot of people didn’t seem to mind talking about themselves.
‘So Joanne thinks I’m innocent,’ he said. ‘That’s because she had her own ideas about who was responsible.’
‘How d’you mean?’ If she pressed him too much he might turn nasty.
‘Anyway.’ He shifted the injured leg into a more comfortable position. ‘Who are you? Joanne’s put you up to this, has she? Didn’t have the nerve to come round herself, but wanted some information that’d prove her theory correct.’
‘Yes, I suppose that’s right.’ Karen searched her mind for something to say that would encourage him to keep on talking. ‘She doesn’t want the killer to get away with it. For Natalie’s sake. I’m not sure but I’ve a feeling she thinks your mother–’
He laughed, spilling beer down his sweater and not bothering to wipe it off. ‘She couldn’t stand Nat, felt the same about her as Mum did. That was the thing with Nat – people loved her or loathed her – know what I mean?’
‘Yes, I’ve met people like that.’
He grinned at her through half-open eyes. ‘Oh, you have, have you? Not that Mum ever tried to get to know her. Not properly. What is it they say about two women in the same house – or is it the same kitchen, I forget.’ He broke off, frowning. ‘Hey, you mean Joanne thinks my mum was the one who . . . Must be off her head. Besides Mum’s busy on Friday evenings. Goes to see her sister.’
‘I thought it was your mother who gave you an alibi.’ Karen could feel her heart thumping in her chest, but Liam’s only reaction was to screw up his face as if he was trying to remember that far back.
‘The thing is,’ he said slowly, ‘that particular night she’d forgotten to tell her she was staying with a friend.’
‘Who was?’
‘What? Auntie Bev of course. Mum called round at the house but there was no-one in.’ He held the can above his head and drained the last drops. ‘Yes, that’s right, I told the old Bill she was here with me. Well she was, apart from half an hour or so.’ Suddenly he realised his mistake. ‘What I mean is . . . Oh, I don’t remember who said what. In any case we was both in all evening so what’s the difference?’
He lay back with his eyes closed, snoring lightly, twitching every so often as though he was about to fall into a deep sleep. Karen wondered where he and Natalie Stevens had met each other. Had Natalie been a football supporter? It seemed unlikely and, in any case,
