Chapter Three

Here it is. Hoping to average out one a day so tune in tomorrow if you care :)

Chapter Three

For tea out of plastic it was all right. Hot, at least. Lily shivered and curling her hands around the cup, glanced around at the tiny room. Hard blue carpet, peeling cream walls, Formica table; it looked like one of the huts from her old school, except in better nick. Certainly in a better class of nick, Lily thought irreverently, pushing the tea away and resting her chin on her elbows in a pose that would definitely have earned her a telling off from any bizarrely passing teachers. How long had she been here? She wondered if the lack of a clock was to disorientate her or simply to prevent people bitching to The Mail about how long they’d been kept waiting. Not that there was much reason for her to be here.
The most that she could tell them was that a minor celebrity had simply lain down in front of her and slashed his own head off. She hadn’t even really watched much of his stuff. Apart from that ghost hunting show he’d done. That had been OK. Just screaming in the dark really. She felt like she could do a little of that herself.
“Miss Marsh?”
Starting up rather guiltily, she looked up at the man who’d just entered the room, a sheaf of papers clutched in his large hand.
“Yes.”
She’d seen him before. Sweeping into the park like a king in a suit, ducking into the tent before emerging to exchange a few icy words with the polo shirted and hovering forensics. Chucking the papers down onto the table, he paused, smiled rather unexpectedly and held out his hand. Lily shook it, and watched as he folded his bulky frame into the chair opposite. “Good afternoon. I hope we haven’t kept you waiting too long? Do you need another cuppa tea?”
“No. Thanks, I’m fine. Honestly.”
“I’m Chief Inspector Bragg.” He had the tinge of a cockney accent and the wide, darkly uncommunicative face of a barrow boy done good. Late thirties, Lily thought. Probably got a missus and a kid and a mum in Essex somewhere.
“I hear you found the body?”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Recalled, Lily flushed and shifted. “I didn’t exactly find it, if you know what I mean. I was up a tree.”
“Up a tree?” A slightly untrustworthy twinkle came into Bragg’s eye, although his face remained stolidly impersonal. Lily decided that he was actually quite nice in a detached, bleak sort of way. “And what did you see up this tree?”
Lily explained. Bragg nodded, making notes. “And this couple on the towel. To the left. You say they started arguing just after she’d looked over at Mr Fellows make himself comfy. You reckon that was significant?”
“I don’t know. I got the impression they’d maybe had the row quite a lot already.”
Bragg grinned and leant back. “And then this woman walks past.”
“Not near him. She just took her dog off the lead, and walked through everyone, if you see what I mean. The dog went round him - it went to eat something, I think, but she called it back.”
“And what did she look like?”
“ Middle aged - I think. Blonde. Baseball cap. Three quarter length trousers, crocs – she was just like all the women round here.”
“I see.”
“No. No, you don’t.” Suddenly, stupidly, Lily felt herself wavering on the edge of tears. “The only person who went over at all was Patrick, and it – it was only then that – that we saw.”
Bragg reached forward and touched her hand comfortingly, “Hey. Look. You’re in shock. It’s like that. Delayed. You’re cold. Do you want another cup of tea?”
“No. Thank you. It’s just so – confusing.” She swallowed thickly and added with determined, acerbic clarity. “No. Stupid. He couldn’t have done it himself. Not suicide. But no one saw anything.”
Bragg sighed. “That’s pretty much the consensus. I probably shouldn’t tell you this, even you won’t go repeating it, yeah?” Lily nodded. “His throat was cut with a length of razor wire. We found it in the wound.”
“Oh.” Lily swallowed convulsively, feeling rather sick. “That’s not very nice.”
“Yeah, I know. Murder’s never pretty. And I’m not gonna keep you much longer. But this is why we need you to tell us. This Patrick. Had you met him before? Know anything about him?”
“No.”Lily shook her head, blushing. Bragg grinned. “But you were watching him pretty sharp.”
“Not really.”
“He’s a good looking lad. Go on. You can go. I’ve had enough that I can take of your shivering. Like a bloody whippet. Go and put a jumper on.”
Lily emerged into the hall. Bragg followed her, nodding curtly to her then strode off down the corridor, leaving her looking at her friends. Rosette jumped up and hugged her.
“Can we go now?”
“Yes.” She put her friend aside, and looked at Richard who was still sitting on the metal seat, staring at the floor, his knees hunched up to his chest.
“Richard? How did it go? Where’s Patrick?”
Richard shrugged one cross, laconic shoulder. “I can go. But they’re keeping Patrick in for questioning. Probably for a while.”
“Why?”
“Why?” Richard grinned, but mirthlessly. “Because he hated that cunt like fucking poison.”