grip, but he won’t let go and I almost topple over. ‘Please,’ he sobs again. ‘I wasn’t spying.’
‘What are the cameras for then?!’ I shout.
‘I’m just ensuring that guests respect the property.’
‘What?’ I snort. ‘Get off me!’ Frustrated, I try to kick him off again but he’s attached to me like a slimy, suckered sea creature, tentacles winding around my legs.
‘Sometimes people were inviting extra guests and not telling me,’ he snivels, ‘or having parties and making lots of noise. And parties are against the rules. I’ve made it very clear. But people don’t care about the rules. And the neighbours complain. I’m running a business.’ He says all this in a long stream, tears rolling down his face, his arms still embracing my legs.
‘So you installed cameras to make sure they were behaving?’ I ask, sceptically.
He nods.
‘In the bathrooms? Did you want to monitor in case they didn’t flush?’
He looks down at the ground, and his shoulders heave.
‘You’re just a pervert,’ I hiss. ‘You like watching people have sex.’
‘No!’ he says, but he can’t look me in the face and I know I’m right.
I finally wrestle my feet free from his grip and step away from him.
‘Please don’t tell anyone,’ he sobs, looking up at me from the floor where he’s still collapsed. ‘Not the police. They’ll arrest me.’
‘Good,’ I say, stepping even further away from him. ‘You should go to jail for this! I hope they lock you up and throw away the key.’
He looks at me in alarm, eyes wide as saucers, shaking his head. ‘I can’t go to jail!’
His whining and pleading only fills me with even more disgust. He’s repulsive, lying on the ground trying to defend himself. How on earth was I afraid of him? He’s a pathetic worm. ‘You spied on me and Kate.’
He falls silent.
I step towards him. ‘You watched us, didn’t you?! You know what happened on Friday night.’
I can see by the way he swallows and looks guiltily away that I’m right. I crouch down beside him, no longer wanting to put distance between us but wanting instead to shake him by the shoulders and make him talk. ‘What happened? Did you see what happened?’ I ask, the note of desperation now in my own voice.
He glances up at me, cowering.
‘What did you see?!’ I say, shaking him by the collar. ‘Tell me what you saw!’
I can see him weighing up whether or not to tell me so I twist his collar hard. He lets out a choking gasp. ‘Tell me what you know or I’ll rip your liver out of your body through your arsehole and make you eat it!’
The words are out of my mouth before I even have time to think about what I’m saying. And my fist is raised, hovering an inch above his head. He shrinks from me in terror and I feel an answering thrill of satisfaction, a sudden understanding of what it is to have power over someone.
‘OK,’ he cries, holding his hands up to shield his face. ‘I’ll tell you. Don’t hit me!’
Wowed and a little afraid of the power I’ve just wielded, I let him go. He scrambles back away from me in fear. ‘Please don’t tell the police,’ he begs again.
‘Did you kill her?’ I ask.
He looks at me aghast, his eyes wide as saucers. ‘No! I swear. I didn’t do anything!’
How many times have I heard that from how many men?
‘Why should I believe you?’
‘Why would I hurt her?’ he sobs.
‘I don’t know! But why would you spy on people?’
‘I didn’t hurt her,’ he simpers. ‘I promise. But I did see something.’
He’s completely crazy if he thinks I’m letting him get away with this but I’ve got the power here and hold all the cards. ‘OK,’ I say. ‘Let’s do a deal. Do you keep recordings?’ I ask.
He nods. ‘For twenty-four hours. Then they get automatically erased.’
My spirits sink. He won’t have the recording from Friday night then.
‘But I saved Friday’s,’ he adds, seeing my disappointment.
‘You did?’ I ask, unable to keep the excitement from my voice.
He nods but there’s a calculating look in his eyes that makes me suspicious and puts me on edge.
‘I’ll show it to you, if you promise you won’t tell the police.’
I narrow my eyes at him. The slimy little bastard. He’s trying to blackmail me. Of course he’d try to leverage something like this for his own benefit.
He pulls his phone out of his back pocket and waves it in my face. ‘Swear