Read Online Quarter Square by David Bridger - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: David Bridger
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Carole and Tony were dead, and my instinctive selfishness did make me feel guilty.
I took a steadying breath and swallowed hard to relieve the pressure building in my ears. “What the hell is going on? Are you bastards going to tell me what happened to them or what?”
“Let me give you a hint,” Peterson said quietly. “When I said you don’t have to say anything, what I meant was don’t say anything. ”
“Where are your clothes?” Turner asked again. “And the keys to this place? I’ll lock your front door when we leave.”
“The keys are in my pocket. Clothes are in the back.”
He fished the key out of my pocket and walked towards the dressing rooms, and that was that. We were on our way. Peterson placed a firm hand on my shoulder and guided me to an unmarked police car parked outside. Turner appeared with a sealed brown paper bag, which I guessed contained my clothing. He locked the theatre door and put the key into his pocket.
“Where are we going?”
Peterson didn’t even look at me. “Shut up.”
The policemen chatted to each other all the way up to London, but neither of them was keen to talk with me. I supposed the paperwork was easier with no conversation to record.
We stopped for a toilet break in the very same place Carole and Tony and I had stopped a week earlier on our way down to the West Country. That day was a lifetime ago.
I couldn’t stop imagining various ways in which they might have been killed, and however I tried, I couldn’t erase the picture of them having sex in the hotel room. That wasn’t how I wanted to remember them.
Had they been murdered by someone with a grudge against Tony? It had to be that, because for the life of me I couldn’t think of anyone who might have a grudge against Carole.
Except me.
Or maybe it was some random violence. That kind of thing happened all the time, right? Madness.
I hoped they hadn’t suffered. I hoped Carole hadn’t been scared. Maybe they’d been lucky and hadn’t seen it coming. Just stepped from happiness into oblivion. That would be the best way to go.
We reached London in the late afternoon and drove directly to Islington Police Station, not far from our house.
Turner handed my possessions to a custody sergeant, who logged everything meticulously, then took me to a medical room and directed me to stand on a sheet of paper and strip naked. He placed the clothes I’d been wearing into a paper bag, along with the sheet, and handed me a white paper suit to wear. Then I was introduced to a forensic medical examiner, who checked me for injuries and took a sample of my DNA. During the examination, he asked me when I’d last slept and eaten, and I assumed he was checking my fitness for interrogation. I passed my medical, and the sergeant locked me in a cell.
I sat on the bed and went back to wondering how and why Carole and Tony were murdered and who could have done it. I thought briefly about a suicide pact but rejected the idea immediately. It was ridiculous. The truth was, with me out of their lives, their futures were rosier than ever before.
I wished I’d answered Carole’s call that day instead of chucking my phone into the sea. I wished I could talk to her one more time, to tell her I wasn’t angry with her anymore, maybe to remember some of the good times together and to part as friends. I hoped against hope that however they’d been killed, it had happened instantly.
A uniformed policeman brought me a paper plate of egg and chips, with plastic cutlery and a plastic cup of milky tea. While I was eating, it struck me that I hadn’t had a chance to tell Min or any of the insiders what had happened to me.
Maybe someone had seen me being arrested. I hoped so. It kind of grounded my emotions, to think of my new family knowing I wouldn’t just disappear. And that they would be concerned about me. The thought brought a lump to my throat.
The uniformed policeman came back and took me to an interview room, where
I took a steadying breath and swallowed hard to relieve the pressure building in my ears. “What the hell is going on? Are you bastards going to tell me what happened to them or what?”
“Let me give you a hint,” Peterson said quietly. “When I said you don’t have to say anything, what I meant was don’t say anything. ”
“Where are your clothes?” Turner asked again. “And the keys to this place? I’ll lock your front door when we leave.”
“The keys are in my pocket. Clothes are in the back.”
He fished the key out of my pocket and walked towards the dressing rooms, and that was that. We were on our way. Peterson placed a firm hand on my shoulder and guided me to an unmarked police car parked outside. Turner appeared with a sealed brown paper bag, which I guessed contained my clothing. He locked the theatre door and put the key into his pocket.
“Where are we going?”
Peterson didn’t even look at me. “Shut up.”
The policemen chatted to each other all the way up to London, but neither of them was keen to talk with me. I supposed the paperwork was easier with no conversation to record.
We stopped for a toilet break in the very same place Carole and Tony and I had stopped a week earlier on our way down to the West Country. That day was a lifetime ago.
I couldn’t stop imagining various ways in which they might have been killed, and however I tried, I couldn’t erase the picture of them having sex in the hotel room. That wasn’t how I wanted to remember them.
Had they been murdered by someone with a grudge against Tony? It had to be that, because for the life of me I couldn’t think of anyone who might have a grudge against Carole.
Except me.
Or maybe it was some random violence. That kind of thing happened all the time, right? Madness.
I hoped they hadn’t suffered. I hoped Carole hadn’t been scared. Maybe they’d been lucky and hadn’t seen it coming. Just stepped from happiness into oblivion. That would be the best way to go.
We reached London in the late afternoon and drove directly to Islington Police Station, not far from our house.
Turner handed my possessions to a custody sergeant, who logged everything meticulously, then took me to a medical room and directed me to stand on a sheet of paper and strip naked. He placed the clothes I’d been wearing into a paper bag, along with the sheet, and handed me a white paper suit to wear. Then I was introduced to a forensic medical examiner, who checked me for injuries and took a sample of my DNA. During the examination, he asked me when I’d last slept and eaten, and I assumed he was checking my fitness for interrogation. I passed my medical, and the sergeant locked me in a cell.
I sat on the bed and went back to wondering how and why Carole and Tony were murdered and who could have done it. I thought briefly about a suicide pact but rejected the idea immediately. It was ridiculous. The truth was, with me out of their lives, their futures were rosier than ever before.
I wished I’d answered Carole’s call that day instead of chucking my phone into the sea. I wished I could talk to her one more time, to tell her I wasn’t angry with her anymore, maybe to remember some of the good times together and to part as friends. I hoped against hope that however they’d been killed, it had happened instantly.
A uniformed policeman brought me a paper plate of egg and chips, with plastic cutlery and a plastic cup of milky tea. While I was eating, it struck me that I hadn’t had a chance to tell Min or any of the insiders what had happened to me.
Maybe someone had seen me being arrested. I hoped so. It kind of grounded my emotions, to think of my new family knowing I wouldn’t just disappear. And that they would be concerned about me. The thought brought a lump to my throat.
The uniformed policeman came back and took me to an interview room, where
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