Page 61 of The Best Friend
‘Have you met with Mr Lane alone, on any previous occasion?’
‘What? No.’
‘You’re certain about this?’
‘Absolutely. I hardly know him. It’s Darcy who’s my… friend.’
Locke nods and smiles at me, but I don’t feel reassured. I rub my eyes – they’re raw and scratchy. The skin around them feels dry and greasy at the same time. The glands in my throat are swollen like I’m fighting off a virus.
‘Would you say you have a good relationship with Mrs Lane?’ Locke asks.
My heart rate speeds up and my hands begin to sweat. I wipe my palms on my jeans. If I tell them about my argument with Darcy, will they think I had something to do with Mike’s murder? I wish Beth was here, but if I ask for a lawyer they’re going to think I’m guilty for sure. No. I’ll have to tell the truth and trust that they’ll believe me.
‘I’ve always had a good relationship with Darcy,’ I say, stretching the truth a little, ‘but we did have a little falling out today.’
‘Oh?’
‘Our kids haven’t been getting along, and Darcy got upset when I asked her to speak to Tyler about it – Tyler’s her son. Also, she didn’t…’ I pause, putting my hands to my cheeks.
‘Go on,’ Locke prompts. His voice is deep and even, almost soothing, which is completely at odds with the panic his questions are stirring.
‘Also, she wasn’t happy about me going to see Mike this evening.’ I swallow. My mouth is dry as dust, my throat rasping. I take a sip of water. ‘The Lanes are separated at the moment,’ I explain. ‘I was only going to see him to see if I could help patch things up between them. Mike was really upset when I saw him on the beach earlier.’
‘You met Mr Lane on the beach today?’ Locke says.
Shit, that sounds bad.‘I was out walking on my own,’ I explain. ‘I bumped into him. That’s when he asked me to come over to his place so he could ask me about getting back with Darcy.’
‘And yet, you said a moment ago that you had never met Mr Lane alone on any previous occasion?’
‘Before today, I meant.’
‘So, other than today on the beach, you never met with Mr Lane alone?’
‘Yes. I mean, no, I never met with him. I didn’t even want to go there this evening, but he was upset.’
‘Upset in what way?’
‘He was sad. He wanted to get back with Darcy, and said he didn’t understand why she kicked him out.’
‘Mrs Lane tells us you threatened and taunted her this afternoon in the school playground.’
‘What! No. I…’ I’m sweating now, my hands trembling. This interview isn’t how I thought it would be. They’re making me feel like I’m guilty of something.
‘Mrs Lane says she has witnesses,’ Locke continues. ‘She says that you caused her considerable stress and upset.’
‘No!’ I can’t believe she actually lied to the police about this. Actually… Icanbelieve it. ‘It was the other way around,’ I say. ‘I told my husband all about it earlier. Darcy made out that I was moving in on her husband, but it’s not true.’ The more I say, the worse it sounds. I hear the words as they fall from my lips, and evenIwouldn’t believe me.
‘Okay,’ Locke says, in his calm manner. ‘Well, we’ll be interviewing the witnesses. And I have to warn you that Mrs Lane is confident they’ll back up her story. She says you threatened her and you threatened her husband.’
‘That’s a total lie!’ I realise that of course all the other mums will take Darcy’s side. As far as they’re concerned, they saw Darcy get upset after talking to me. They’ll have put two and two together and come up with twenty three. What can I say that will make the police believe me?
‘Am I under arrest?’ I ask. ‘You said this was just a witness interview.’ My brain has turned to mush. ‘Look,’ I say, my voice quavering, ‘I’d really like to go home now. I’m exhausted. I can always come back tomorrow and—’
‘Louisa Sullivan,’ Locke says, interrupting my plea, ‘I’m arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Michael Lane. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’
As he speaks, the room fades in and out of focus. His words sound as though they’re being spoken from a long way away. How can this be happening to me? How can I be under arrest? Do they really think I have something to do with Mike’s murder? I grip the edge of the table, my cold knuckles white as bone.
‘I need Beth,’ I cry. ‘Get my sister – she’s a lawyer. I won’t say anything else without her here.’
