Daisy in Chains(46)

‘Impossible to say. No fingerprints in the house other than yours. You have a very good cleaning lady.’

‘I don’t have a cleaner of either sex.’

‘Tell me the truth now: when you saw it, who was the first person that came into your head?’

She shakes her head. ‘It’s stupid.’

‘Go on.’

‘Sirocco. You know, that woman I was telling you about? She kept going on about how she and Hamish were soulmates. I thought she was harmless enough, but possibly a bit unhinged. And as you pointed out yourself, that lot know where I live.’

‘Anyone else?’

‘No, they were all odd, but she was the only one claiming he loved her. And she could have got that paper rose from Sandra. Did you find prints on it?’

‘Nothing conclusive. A few partials that could be Wolfe’s, but paper is very difficult to get clear prints off. Another that definitely isn’t Wolfe’s or yours, but didn’t come up on our system.’

‘I mentioned it today, when I met him. I should have pressed.’

He picks up his fork, holds it in mid-air. ‘You were telling me the truth when you said you live here alone.’

‘Of course I was.’

‘Do we know each other well enough, yet?’

For a second, she has no idea what he means. Then she remembers. He wants to know whom she talks to, when she thinks she’s alone. She says, ‘You’ll think me nuts.’

He has a nice smile, she decides. Kinder, less complicated than that of Wolfe. ‘You have blue hair,’ he says. ‘I thought you were nuts the second I laid eyes on you.’

What difference can it make? ‘I had a twin. A sister. She died.’

His smile fades. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘It was a long time ago. I never knew her, not really. Except I do. I know her as well as I know myself and I feel her loss every day. There are times when, without her, I feel like half a person.’

‘And you talk to her? Use her to work out stuff you’d normally discuss with a mate?’

She wouldn’t have expected him to understand so quickly. ‘I talk to her and she talks back. I hear her voice, as clearly as I hear yours.’

His eyebrows draw closer together. ‘Any other voices you hear in your head?’

She smiles. ‘No. Just hers.’

‘Have you thought about getting a pet?’

She has a sudden image of a dog. A Dalmatian, chasing sticks into the sea, barking at waves, giddy with delight.

‘Do you talk to anyone who isn’t there?’ she asks.

‘Yeah. I talk to my daughter. I know what it’s like to miss someone.’

She is calmer now. Pete drains his glass. ‘So what do you plan to do about the Hamish Wolfe case, if I may ask?’

She feels an illogical and unexpected urge to please this man. ‘Nothing,’ she says. ‘Wolfe is guilty. He can stay where he is.’

Maggie walks slowly up the stairs once Pete has left. She needs to sleep now, sleep and not think, for hours.

‘Twin sister? Seriously?’

‘First thing that came into my head.’ In her bedroom, Maggie looks around for her dressing gown.

‘What if he checks?’

‘He won’t.’ She smiles a tight, brief, smile. ‘I think he’s a bit smitten.’

She pulls off clothes and goes into the bathroom. Her eyes are sore from wearing contact lenses for too long. She takes them out, cleans her teeth and steps on the bathroom scales.

‘Someone’s messing with you.’

Before leaving, Pete had been as good as his word, sanding down the underside of her table so that the intruder’s mysterious graffiti could no longer be seen.

‘I know.’ She has lost weight again.

‘That woman from the Wolfe Pack? Sirocco?’

‘Seems most likely. The question is, why?’





Chapter 35


WOLFE FEELS EVERY punch thrown at fight club. The two fighters slam into the metal lockers and he feels the blow in his kidneys. He feels skin peeling off knuckles as a fist slams into the side of a jaw.

He closes his eyes, tries to picture Maggie’s pale skin, her slim, gently tapering fingers edged in fondant pink. He tries to remember the scent she’d brought into the prison with her, an odd mixture of warm wool and cold chemicals. He tries, but can’t quite take himself out of the stark, cold violence of the here and now.

He can almost feel the blood start to flow, its warm stickiness trickling down his face. Maybe it’s because he knows, on a precise and detailed level, the physical damage these two are doing to each other, or perhaps it’s because his will be the job of fixing them up later. Fight club injuries are rarely seen by the prison doctor, because all injuries, however small, have to be reported to the authorities, and if the prison authorities get wind of fight club, steps will be taken to shut it down. So guards are bribed, inmates close enough to hear what’s going on are threatened into silence and the CCTV cameras in the gym are blacked out.

The yelling is inside Wolfe’s head like a migraine. The crunch of bone hitting bone is a sound he feels, deep in his gut. He looks down, at the scuffed, worn gym floor and tries to remember the sound of Maggie’s voice. Light but low-pitched. Measured, as though she tests each word out in her head before speaking it. He tries to imagine her saying something nice. Something nice and nonsensical. Instead he hears grunts and curses.