CHAPTER 37

Three days later I got a call from Rob Pryor.

'I thought we weren't meant to talk any more,' I said brightly.

'We need to talk now,' he said.

I felt a ripple of alarm.

'Has something happened with Naomi?'

'No,' he said. 'Nothing has happened with Naomi. I couldn't believe that you'd been to see her. That you were watching her.'

'I had to,' I said. 'It felt like a moral duty.'

'I want you to come and see me.'

'What about?'

'This whole business with you and Brendan. It can't go on like this.'

'I know what you mean,' I said. 'I feel like someone with a disease.'

'We're going to sort it out,' he said.

'When do you want me to come?'

'One other thing first. Miranda, do you have a solicitor?'

'What do you mean?'

'I think it would be useful if you had some sort of legal representation.'

'The only time I've had a solicitor is when I bought my flat.'

The whole idea seemed laughable, but Pryor didn't give up. He asked me if I knew anybody at all who was a lawyer. I thought for a moment and then remembered Polly Benson. The main thing about Polly is that when we were at college she was the biggest party animal of us all, which was saying something. Pryor said it would be a good idea if I brought her along. I wasn't sure if this was a good idea. I hadn't been in touch with Polly for ages. But Pryor was insistent. I began to get suspicious.

'Is there some problem?' I said.

Pryor's tone was soothing.

'We're going to sort this out,' he said, 'but you may benefit from some advice. Talk to your friend, then phone me. We'll make a date.'

I phoned Polly and she gave a cheerful scream when I identified myself. She was so excited. It was so great. We must get together. We must have a drink. What were my plans? I could hear a clatter as she searched around on her desk for her diary. I said that would be great, but first I had something I needed to talk to her about. I asked her if she could come with me to see someone. In fact, a detective, but it wasn't what she'd think. She said sure, no problem, straight away, just as a friend should. I said I would pay her, just like a normal client, and she laughed and said to forget it and, anyway, I wouldn't be able to afford it. She asked me what was up, so I gave her the two-minute version of the Brendan story while she murmured sympathetically.

'What a creep,' she said, when I'd finished. 'But you don't know what's up?'

'Brendan's become friendly with this detective. He may have made some complaint.' I laughed. 'Or maybe he's going to confess to murder.'

'Maybe Brendan objects to what you've been saying about him,' said Polly. 'You have to be careful about things like that.'

'I'm a bit worried about needing a solicitor,' I said.

'Then it'll be good that I'm there,' she said.

I wasn't sure if that really answered my question, but I found a time she was free the next day and also a time we could meet for a drink later in the week. I phoned Rob Pryor and that was fine and so – weirdly – the next afternoon found me standing outside the police station talking with one of my old college friends. I had made an effort to smarten up with a dark jacket and black trousers, but Polly had popped out of her office and she was on an entirely different level of looking businesslike. She was wearing a grey pinstriped suit and with her jet black, very straight hair and brown skin she looked stunning. We hugged each other.

'I'm sorry to waste your time like this,' I said. 'We should be in and out in a moment.'

A uniformed officer showed us through to Pryor's office, which seemed full of people. Brendan was there and a middle-aged woman, also formally dressed, whom Pryor introduced as Deirdre Walsh, Brendan's solicitor. She looked at me with a puzzled expression, as if I weren't the person she was expecting or as if I'd said something she didn't understand. I introduced Polly to them and tried very hard not to look in Brendan's direction. Pryor asked if she knew about the situation.

'I filled her in,' I said. 'But I'm not quite sure what this is all about.'

Pryor, Brendan and Walsh exchanged glances. Something was up. Pryor was fidgeting with a file on his desk. He flipped it open.

'At Mr Block's request,' he said. 'This is an informal meeting.'

'What does that mean?' I said.

'You'll see,' said Pryor, picking up a sheet of paper from the file. 'We all know what's been going on, more or less. But it might be worth going through some of the salient episodes.' He pursed his lips and hesitated for a moment before continuing. 'Last year the two of you had a brief, intimate relationship which Mr Block ended.'

'That's not true,' I said.

'Please, Miss Cotton, let me just…'

'No. I'm not going to sit here and nod to a lie like that. It was simple. I caught Brendan reading my diary…'

'Please, Miss Cotton, Miranda, let me go on and then you can have your say.'

I clenched my teeth hard and said nothing.

'According to Mr Block, he ended the relationship. Maybe unfortunately he then began a relationship with your sister and then with a mutual friend

'She was my friend,' I said.

'A relationship,' said Pryor, as if I hadn't spoken, 'which ended tragically.'

'For Laura,' I said. 'Not for Brendan.'

There was a sort of angry sigh from Deirdre Walsh and I saw that she was actually glaring at me.

'Please, Miranda,' said Pryor.

Polly leaned over and put a hand on my arm. I nodded at her. Pryor continued.

'I won't go through all the episodes of tension during the time when Brendan was engaged to your sister. I'll only mention the occasion when you were caught searching through Brendan's possessions in his bedroom.'

I looked round at Polly. I hadn't mentioned that to her. She was looking entirely impassive.

'Mr Block admits that his severing of ties with your sister was a painful process, but he was, at least, no longer connected with your family. However, your erratic behaviour only intensified. There were, for example, the wild accusations you made against him to people… well, to people such as myself. Even when I went to the trouble of showing that the accusations – for example, concerning the death of Laura – were demonstrably false.'

'That's just not true,' I said. 'It all depended on time, and you got the route wrong. I checked it, and if you took the direct route through the council estate Brendan could easily have got there in the time.'

There was a silence. Deirdre Walsh leaned forwards and spoke for the first time.

'I'm sorry, Miss Cotton. I'm not sure I've got this right. Do I take it that you have walked the route yourself and timed it?'

'Someone had to,' I said.

'Excuse me,' said Polly to the others and leaned close to my ear and whispered to me. 'I think it would be better if you didn't respond to these claims point by point until the detective has finished.'

'Why?' I said.

'Please,' said Polly.

'All right,' I said. 'Go on, then.'

Pryor took another piece of paper from his file.

'Do you know the name Geoffrey Locke?'

I thought for a moment. It sounded familiar.

'Oh, you mean Jeff? I've met him.'

'You phoned him about Mr Block.'

'I wanted to reach him.'

'Have you tried the phone book?'

'He wasn't in it,' I said.

'Leon Hardy?' asked Pryor.

'I've only talked to him on the phone.'

'About?'

'I wanted to get in touch with Brendan.'

'Craig McGreevy?'

'I don't see the point in just reading these names out.'

'You actually visited Tom Lanham.'

'I'm sorry, I don't see the problem.'

I looked over at Brendan. He had the very, very faintest of smiles on his face. It reminded me of the way he looked at me when we first met, when I first suspected that he really liked me. I looked at Pryor. He had no kind of smile on his face.