suddenly excited that he might know something that could lead me to Kate.
‘Music, shouting, people running down the stairs, doors slamming,’ he says with a loud sigh.
‘Did you see who?’
‘No,’ he says, but his eyes slide sideways and I wonder if he’s telling the truth. ‘I was in bed,’ he sniffs.
‘You don’t know if it was Kate then who left at three? Or someone else?’
‘It sounded like men.’ He gives me a very pointed look and I feel my cheeks flush. It’s as if he’s implying I’m some kind of prostitute for bringing men back to our apartment. I refuse to be shamed though.
‘They were definitely running?’ I ask. ‘Like they were in a hurry to get somewhere?’
Sebastian nods. ‘Yes. It woke me up. Like elephants on the stairs.’
‘Did you hear anyone come back after that?’
‘No,’ he says. ‘I put my ear plugs in.’
What could all this mean? I’m more confused now than ever.
‘I hope you don’t plan on having any more parties,’ Sebastian remarks.
I shake my head. ‘No,’ I say, stunned. It’s almost like he didn’t hear me when I told him Kate was missing.
‘Well then, I need to get on,’ Sebastian tells me, turning back into his apartment. ‘Goodbye.’ And he shuts the door firmly in my face.
Chapter Nine
The policeman taps his pencil against his notepad and looks at me with a barely suppressed sneer. ‘You brought two men you didn’t know back to your apartment?’
He makes it sound like there’s something illegal about that, and I’m reminded of being called before the nuns at school to explain why my skirt was rolled up at the waist and flashing a centimetre of unholy knee, or why I was wearing lipstick that made me look like Mary Magdalene. The nuns wondered if I wanted to be mistaken for a whore and, though he isn’t saying it, the policeman is undoubtedly thinking the same thing. After Sebastian’s pointed snark an hour ago I’m not feeling very patient. It’s the twenty-first century, I want to argue, and my morals aren’t the mystery here.
The policeman, whose name is Nunes, is younger than me, maybe early thirties, and good-looking, which is what I’ve come to expect from anyone Portuguese, but he has an oiliness to him that I don’t much like. Maybe it’s the gelled hair, or it could be the pouty mouth. I’m surprised that someone of his age has such outdated views on sex but, then again, Portugal is a Catholic country like Ireland, so maybe that has something to do with it. I’m sure that it would be the same back home where there are also completely double standards when it comes to women and men.
‘Yes, we brought two men back,’ I say, refusing to be embarrassed about it, though the truth is my cheeks are hot and I do feel a squirm in my stomach, especially when I notice his gaze slipping to my wedding ring.
‘Whose names you don’t remember.’
I nod, sheepish. I’ve been scouring my memories all day but they’re filled with Swiss-cheese gaps.
‘And your friend had sex with one or both of these men—’
‘No, I didn’t say that,’ I interrupt. ‘I mean, I think she had sex with one of them. I don’t know for sure.’ I try not to think of the condoms in the bin. The police don’t need to know those details – and this guy is already being judgemental enough. I check but he isn’t wearing a wedding ring. He’s in his early thirties; is he telling me that he’s never had a one-night stand?!
‘You don’t know because you were …’ He looks down at his notes and reads off from the statement I just gave: ‘“Blackout drunk”, yes?’
I nod, my face flaming hotter than the sun. ‘Yes, but I didn’t mean to get that drunk. I think I was drugged.’
At this he looks up sharply, but is unable to hide the scepticism on his face or in his voice. ‘Drugged?’ He raises his eyebrows laconically.
I nod, irritation rising up. He’s treating me like I’m a madwoman or like I’m lying. ‘Yes, maybe. I don’t know but I was completely out of it, wasted. It’s not like me. I mean, I can hold my booze.’ I stop myself. That makes me sound like an alcoholic. ‘Not that I have an issue with alcohol,’ I hasten to add, realising I’m only putting my foot in it further. ‘I rarely drink. I’ve got a baby.’ Shit. Even worse. His scornful look grows deeper, his eyebrows