Read Online Scarlet Wakefield 01 - Kiss Me Kill Me by Lauren Henderson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lauren Henderson
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Lady Severs, wearing her usual tweed suit, sensible walking shoes, and disapproving frown, stalked into the waiting room. They must have sent a car for her.
The older policeman taps a pencil on the table and looks at his partner, who looks no more than twenty-one.
“Or something to relax you?” suggests the young policeman, smiling at me in such a friendly way it’s almost confusing, like we’ve met before and I just don’t remember. “You know, take the edge off? Lots of people do it.”
I shake my head, dumb from misery and incomprehension.
They exchange glances again.
“You won’t get in trouble if you tell the truth, Scarlett,” says the older policeman, and that does actually make me snort a bit. How moronic does he think I am? I mean, three-year-olds know that’s the biggest lie of all!
They must have misinterpreted my snort, because the older one’s eyes narrow into nasty slits, as does his mouth.
“All right, young lady,” he says, and his voice is now as menacing as a bad cop in American TV shows. “If that’s the way you want to do things, fine with me. I think you know we’re talking about illegal substances. What did you take to the party and give to Dan McAndrew when you were alone with him on the terrace? You’d better tell me right now, or you’ll be in even worse trouble.”
I gape at him, unable to believe what I’m hearing. Why would I ever want to hurt Dan? But then it dawns on me that these two men know nothing about my feelings for Dan. And I can’t tell them, because if I do I’ll burst into tears and never be able to stop.
“It was the first time you’d been asked to a party at Nadia Farouk’s, wasn’t it?” the younger policeman chips in. All pretend-friendliness has vanished: his tone’s equally unpleasant now. “You weren’t part of their crowd, were you? So why did they ask you along? Because you had something they wanted? Were you their new dealer? Come on, Scarlett, don’t piss around with us.”
I’m goggling at them. It’s really upsetting to have two police officers say such horrible things to you, with such nasty looks in their eyes, but their words are so far removed from any reality that I still can’t believe I’m hearing them. I know they want me to answer, but I’m so gobsmacked by what they’re suggesting that I’m tongue-tied. Which is not a bad thing, as Lady Severs is already jumping into the gap.
“What kind of language is that?” she demands furiously. “How dare you speak that way in my presence? And to suggest that Scarlett would—I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous and insulting in my life!”
“With respect, your ladyship,” says the older policeman, leaning toward her, “adults often have no idea what the kids in their charge are really getting up to.”
“My good man,” interrupts Lady Severs, in a voice so cold you could get frostbite from it, “I know exactly what Scarlett, as you put it, ‘gets up to.’ Scarlett is a gymnast. Four days a week, she trains with her two friends. Then she goes round to one or the other’s house to do her homework. I know that because, as arranged with her grandmother, a very dear friend of mine, one or other of the parents rings me to confirm that fact. She is always home by ten p.m. and goes straight up to her room. On the evenings that she does not see her friends, she is in her room doing her homework. There are very strict rules under which Scarlett is allowed to stay in my house, and I make sure she abides by them. She has to hand her mobile phone to me every night when she comes in, and retrieve it the next morning, to ensure that she doesn’t stay up late jabbering with her friends.”
It’s the policemen’s turn to stare, speechless, at Lady Severs.
“She might have another mobile you don’t know about . . . ,” starts the older one, but you can tell his heart isn’t in it. Lady Severs waves a hand at him dismissively, and he falls
The older policeman taps a pencil on the table and looks at his partner, who looks no more than twenty-one.
“Or something to relax you?” suggests the young policeman, smiling at me in such a friendly way it’s almost confusing, like we’ve met before and I just don’t remember. “You know, take the edge off? Lots of people do it.”
I shake my head, dumb from misery and incomprehension.
They exchange glances again.
“You won’t get in trouble if you tell the truth, Scarlett,” says the older policeman, and that does actually make me snort a bit. How moronic does he think I am? I mean, three-year-olds know that’s the biggest lie of all!
They must have misinterpreted my snort, because the older one’s eyes narrow into nasty slits, as does his mouth.
“All right, young lady,” he says, and his voice is now as menacing as a bad cop in American TV shows. “If that’s the way you want to do things, fine with me. I think you know we’re talking about illegal substances. What did you take to the party and give to Dan McAndrew when you were alone with him on the terrace? You’d better tell me right now, or you’ll be in even worse trouble.”
I gape at him, unable to believe what I’m hearing. Why would I ever want to hurt Dan? But then it dawns on me that these two men know nothing about my feelings for Dan. And I can’t tell them, because if I do I’ll burst into tears and never be able to stop.
“It was the first time you’d been asked to a party at Nadia Farouk’s, wasn’t it?” the younger policeman chips in. All pretend-friendliness has vanished: his tone’s equally unpleasant now. “You weren’t part of their crowd, were you? So why did they ask you along? Because you had something they wanted? Were you their new dealer? Come on, Scarlett, don’t piss around with us.”
I’m goggling at them. It’s really upsetting to have two police officers say such horrible things to you, with such nasty looks in their eyes, but their words are so far removed from any reality that I still can’t believe I’m hearing them. I know they want me to answer, but I’m so gobsmacked by what they’re suggesting that I’m tongue-tied. Which is not a bad thing, as Lady Severs is already jumping into the gap.
“What kind of language is that?” she demands furiously. “How dare you speak that way in my presence? And to suggest that Scarlett would—I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous and insulting in my life!”
“With respect, your ladyship,” says the older policeman, leaning toward her, “adults often have no idea what the kids in their charge are really getting up to.”
“My good man,” interrupts Lady Severs, in a voice so cold you could get frostbite from it, “I know exactly what Scarlett, as you put it, ‘gets up to.’ Scarlett is a gymnast. Four days a week, she trains with her two friends. Then she goes round to one or the other’s house to do her homework. I know that because, as arranged with her grandmother, a very dear friend of mine, one or other of the parents rings me to confirm that fact. She is always home by ten p.m. and goes straight up to her room. On the evenings that she does not see her friends, she is in her room doing her homework. There are very strict rules under which Scarlett is allowed to stay in my house, and I make sure she abides by them. She has to hand her mobile phone to me every night when she comes in, and retrieve it the next morning, to ensure that she doesn’t stay up late jabbering with her friends.”
It’s the policemen’s turn to stare, speechless, at Lady Severs.
“She might have another mobile you don’t know about . . . ,” starts the older one, but you can tell his heart isn’t in it. Lady Severs waves a hand at him dismissively, and he falls
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