From somewhere else in the house, I heard a noise.

‘Cats,’ Zaid commented, waving a finger in the vague direction of the second hallway. ‘They belong to a friend. Stupidly, I said I’d look after them while she was in Italy with work – but I never realized I’d be allergic to their hair. The day after they arrived, I just couldn’t stop sneezing, so I’ve had to quarantine them in the spare room.’ He pointed to my pad. ‘So, are you also looking into what happened to Beatrix?’

‘In part,’ I said. ‘She might inform another disappearance I’m working on.’

‘Oh,’ he responded, ‘I see.’

‘I know it was a long time ago, but do you remember anything specific you might have said to Patrick?’

He took a breath, as if going back to 1987 hurt him, a physical pain he couldn’t shift, and he began going over the account of what he remembered from the time. It matched almost exactly with the timeline DS Smoulter had put together three decades ago, and then the account he’d given to Patrick over Skype in October 2015. He asked me if I wanted something else to drink, and when I said I was fine, he stood and went to the kitchen. I watched him as he grabbed a bottle of whisky from one of the cupboards, pouring himself a measure, his movements slower somehow, maybe burdened by the memory of Beatrix. He looked at me and then sank the whole thing, before pouring himself another one.

‘So you’re still adamant that Adrian Vale was behind Beatrix’s disappearance? You think he killed her?’

‘Yes,’ he said.

‘What makes you so sure?’

‘Sure?’ A forced smile. ‘I don’t think we can be one hundred per cent sure about anything.’

He downed the second glass of whisky.

‘But Adrian …’ He almost mumbled the name, as if he didn’t want to form it on his tongue. ‘Adrian was always struggling to fit in. Always. It wasn’t that we actively left him out – we never overtly avoided him; well, not until after Beatrix disappeared, I suppose – but he didn’t belong. You know how some people are. They just don’t fit in, however hard they try to – and you never take to them, despite your best efforts.’

‘So he was always on the outside of your group?’

‘Yes. I mean, he tried hard, but …’

‘But what?’

‘We didn’t talk much, because I always felt there was something about him. All the abuse he got, all the name-calling, being physically shoved and pushed sometimes, most of the people doing it mistook his silence and lack of retaliation for weakness. But I never did. Right from the start, from the moment I met him, I could see something.’

‘What sort of thing?’

His eyes were back on the bottle.

‘The sort of thing that could bite you,’ Zaid replied.

54

‘You were scared of Adrian Vale?’