The Breakdown(97)

‘We’ve been through all this before,’ Matthew

says wearily. ‘It was our kitchen knife that you saw, remember?’

‘No, it wasn’t, it was a much bigger knife.’

‘Can I ask where you were on the night of Friday July 17th, Mr Anderson?’ PC Thomas asks.

‘I’m not sure I can remember that far back,’ Matthew says with a little laugh. But nobody laughs with him.

‘It was the night I went out with the people from

school,’ I say helpfully. ‘The night of the storm.’

‘Oh yes.’ Matthew nods. ‘I was here, at home.’

‘Did you leave the house at all?’

‘No, I had a migraine and went to bed.’

‘Where did you sleep?’

‘In the spare room.’

‘Why did you sleep there, why not in your own bed?’

‘Because I didn’t want Cass to disturb me when she came in. Look, what’s going on? Why am I being questioned like this?’

PC Lawson studies him for a few seconds. ‘Just trying to establish a few facts, that’s all,’ she says.

‘What facts?’

‘A possible murder weapon has been found in your

garden shed, Mr Anderson.’

The Breakdown





391


Matthew’s mouth drops open. ‘You’re not seriously


suggesting that I had anything to do with that young woman’s murder?’

PC Thomas looks at him thoughtfully. ‘What young

woman would that be, Mr Anderson?’

‘You know very well who I mean!’ His veneer begins to crack and I watch him dispassionately, wondering how I could ever have loved him.

‘As I said, we’re trying to establish facts. Mr Anderson, how well do you know Rachel Baretto?’

The mention of Rachel surprises him. He looks up

sharply. ‘Not very well. She’s my wife’s friend.’

‘So you’re not in a relationship with her.’

‘What? No! I can’t stand the woman!’

‘But I saw you kissing her,’ I say quietly.

‘Don’t be ridiculous!’

‘The day she came over unexpectedly, the day I

couldn’t remember how to work the coffee machine, I saw you kissing her in the hall,’ I insist.

‘Not again,’ he groans. ‘You can’t keep making things up, Cass.’ But doubt has wormed its way into his eyes.

‘I think it might be better to continue down at the station,’ PC Thomas interrupts, worried his murder inquiry is going to turn into a domestic. ‘Would that be all right, Mr Anderson?’

‘No, it would not!’

‘Then I’m afraid I’ll have to caution you.’

‘Caution me?’





392


b a paris


I turn to them, looking anguished. ‘You don’t really think he killed Jane Walters, do you?’

‘What?’ Matthew looks as if he’s about to pass out.

‘It’s my fault,’ I say, wringing my hands. ‘They were asking me questions and now I’m scared that every little thing I told them is going to be used against you!’ He stares at me, horrified, while PC Thomas reads him his rights. When he gets to the end I start sobbing as if my heart is broken, and I realise that I’m not pretending anymore, because my heart has been broken, not only by Matthew but also by Rachel, who I had loved like a sister.

They lead him away and once I’ve shut the door

behind them I dry my tears, because I haven’t finished yet. Now it’s Rachel’s turn.

I dial her number. I was only going to speak to her over the phone but as I wait for her to answer I decide to ask her to come round because it will be much more fun telling her what I have to tell her face to face, much more satisfying to actually see her reaction rather than just hear it.

‘Rachel, can you come round?’ I ask, tearfully. ‘I really need to talk to someone.’

‘I was just about to leave work,’ she says, ‘so I can be with you in about forty minutes, depending on traffic.’ For the first time, I’m able to detect a hint of boredom in her voice and I know she thinks I’m going to start banging on about the murderer being after me again.

The Breakdown





393


‘Thank you,’ I say, sounding relieved. ‘Please hurry.’


‘I’ll do my best.’

She hangs up and I imagine her texting Matthew,

as she’ll have bought a new phone by now. But with him in custody, she’s not going to be able to get hold of him.

She arrives an hour later, perhaps because of traffic, perhaps because she wanted to let me stew a little longer.

‘What’s happened, Cass?’ she asks as soon as I open the door. ‘Is it to do with Matthew?’ She looks worried, which means that I was right, that in the time since I phoned she’s been trying to get hold of him.

‘How do you know?’ I ask, looking surprised.

‘Well, you said you needed to talk so I presumed

something had happened,’ she says, flustered. ‘And I thought maybe it was to do with Matthew.’