‘Surely you must remember something.’

Mel unhunched herself and leaned forward, staring into Bailey’s eyes with a full-on intensity.

‘He’s a duppy. That’s what he is. He ain’t no normal killer. He’s a duppy. And that’s why Mel’s scared of him.’

‘I’m sorry, hold up a sec. Can you explain just what a duppy is exactly?’

‘Duppies are evil. They come from the land of the dead to hunt the living. Bad, very bad,’ whispered Mel. ‘My grandmother used to tell me about them when I was a kid. Stories from Jamaica, old stories from way back. She believed in them, thought they were real, as real as you and me. When I grew up, I left those stories behind, thought they were nothing more than fairy tales for kids and old women, just spook talk of evil spirits. But when I met the Hairdresser, that’s when I knew that duppies were real.’ She started to breathe harder. ‘Dem ah real. Aal along mi grandmoda was rite…’

The cast-iron conviction in Mel’s voice sent an eldritch chill through Bailey. She shook it off. She had never believed in the supernatural and she wasn’t about to start now.

‘I don’t believe in the supernatural,’ said Bailey. ‘I think your cellmate Ally—’

Mel cut in with a sharp hiss. ‘Mi friend Ally, shi dead cuz shi neva believe inna duppies! Dem all dead cuz dem nuh believe!’

She pointed a long bony brown finger at Bailey.

‘An yuh wi dead eff yuh nuh believe.’

Bailey couldn’t help but shiver at Mel’s pronouncement. She needed to get the conversation back in the world of the real.

‘After you met the Hairdresser, did you go to the police and tell them about him?’

Mel shook her head vigorously. ‘Mel hates the police. Mel would never go to the police.’

Of course, she’d been a prostitute and they weren’t renowned for having the greatest relationship with the police. Bailey sighed and chewed her lip. She still hadn’t got what she’d come here for.

‘If he’s a bloke, like you say, then he must be one of the prison officers. You must remember something about him. Even just the smallest detail?’

Mel rolled her eyes and bared her teeth.

‘Mi told yuh aredi. Him ain’t nuh bloke. Him a duppy.’

‘That’s no good to me. I need to find out who he is!’

‘Him de Hairdressa!’ screeched Mel. ‘Fuck yuh!’

She slumped back on the bunk and started sobbing, long painful whiny sobs.

‘Mi friends… aal ded… bess friends mi eva had…’

Bailey stood up. She looked down on the sobbing Mel with pity. She tossed the rocks of crack onto the bunk next to Mel, who ignored them and continued sobbing. Bailey turned and left the cell, feeling now more than ever like she was chasing a shadowy mirage.

Chapter 72

The prison library appeared to be completely deserted. Bailey stood there, looking around, wondering where the librarian had got to. She wasn’t sitting at her usual position at her desk by the door. She was probably off shelving books somewhere.