She is stepping out of the shower, towelling her hair, when the knock sounds on the front door. She dresses quickly, and knows before she opens the door that it is the police.
‘Felicity Lloyd?’ The male constable holds up his warrant card and after a moment’s pause, the female constable with him does the same. ‘May we come inside for a second?’
Felicity’s heart is beating so violently she has to resist the urge to clamp hands to her chest. She turns without a word and leads the way back to her kitchen. From downstairs she can hear the rhythmic gurgles of the washing machine.
‘Can you confirm that you’re the registered keeper of a black Audi A3 registration number KL61 RZM?’
‘Yes,’ she says, ‘that’s my car.’
The man looks at her dressing gown, at her trembling, grazed hands and says. ‘Can you tell us what happened this evening?’
‘I’m not sure,’ she says. ‘A dog ran out in front of me. I thought there was a child chasing it, but I’m not sure about that. I swerved. I think I banged my head.’
She reaches out and takes hold of the worktop. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t feel too well.’
The police officers steer her to a chair and she can hear the sound of the kettle being filled but their questions don’t let up.
‘Where was this?’
‘What time did this happen?’
‘I’m sorry, it’s all very confused. I parked in the Grand Arcade because I needed to pop into Heffers. That was early evening, about seven o’clock. I wasn’t there long. I planned to get some fuel, so I could have been on the way out towards the ring road.’
She wonders if she has been planning this for some time. A story of an accident, and a head injury, vague enough to withstand questioning.
‘Did I hurt someone?’ she asks in a small voice.
‘Miss Lloyd, we need you to take a Breathalyser test.’ The male constable has the equipment in his hand. ‘If you decline to do so, you will be placed under arrest and escorted to the station where you will be obliged to take a blood test.’
‘I don’t mind. You can breathalyse me.’
The test is over soon. She passes easily and that is one disaster averted.
‘Why did you leave the scene of the accident, Miss Lloyd? Why didn’t you phone for assistance?’
‘I don’t have my phone,’ she says. ‘My handbag is gone.’
‘Someone stole your handbag?’
‘I can’t remember when I last saw it. Do you mind if I find some paracetamol?’
As she is reaching into the cupboard the male constable receives a phone call and steps out into the hall.
‘Your handbag’s been found in a waste bin on Sidney Street,’ he says when he comes back. ‘There’s no cash in your purse and if you had a mobile phone, it’s missing, but your credit cards, your car keys and work ID all seem to be there.’
‘Thank you,’ she says.
‘Miss Lloyd, do you need medical attention?’ the female constable says.
She is stiff and sore, especially her hands and feet, but the last thing she wants is to end up in hospital again.
‘No, I’m fine. I just need to get to bed. Can I collect my car in the morning, or does it need to be done now?’
‘Your car was causing a hazard and has been towed to the city pound,’ the man tells her. ‘But we’re actually more concerned to find out what happened to you between the time the accident took place, which we think was around seven thirty, and now. Where have you been, Miss Lloyd?’
She shakes her head. ‘I’m not sure.’
‘We had a report of a young woman in some distress on Hobson Street at eleven thirty. Would that have been you?’
‘Do you own a white and pink lace dress, Miss Lloyd?’
‘It’s in the washing machine.’
The two officers exchange a glance and then the male says to her, ‘Miss Lloyd, we’d like you to accompany us to the station.’
53
Joe
Two hours after returning home from his street patrol, Joe is in as deep a sleep as he manages these days, which isn’t very. The phone wakes him at the first ring. He blinks at the screen lighting up the darkness. His mother is calling him at three thirty in the morning.
‘We have Felicity Lloyd in our interview suite. I thought you’d want to know.’
Joe sits up in bed, not without checking the corners of the room to make sure no one is lurking in them.