Tara was searching for holes in their friend’s statement and, as uncomfortable as that was, it would be better for Faith if they found them before the police. ‘I didn’t hear everything that passed between Faith and Nick,’ April said, wishing she had been able to climb that damn fence and look into the kitchen. ‘But the first thing I heard was someone saying I love you – as if they meant it.’

‘Someone?’

‘I told the police it was Faith,’ April replied because Faith had told her as much after collapsing on the doorstep. ‘But the voice in my head when I replay it belongs to a man. I couldn’t swear one way or the other. I doubt it’s important.’

‘I hope you’re right,’ said Tara. ‘What else?’

‘Faith yelled at Nick to keep away,’ April continued as her mind constructed the scene she hadn’t been able to witness; she imagined Nick coming towards Faith with a knife in his hand. ‘She’d transferred money, but it wasn’t enough, and that’s when he must have pressed the blade to her throat. I heard him shout at her as she struggled, she told him to stop and then she screamed. Maybe the cut to her throat was an accident.’

‘Maybe.’

‘I didn’t hear anything after that. I raced to the front of the house.’

‘And nothing struck you as odd?’

‘I didn’t see her smile,’ April repeated.

‘But when you saw Nick, he was shocked and scared.’

April was pulled back to the last moments of Nick’s life. ‘When I went into the kitchen, Nick tried to say something, but he was choking on his own blood,’ she explained. Remembering that Tara had been on the other end of the phone at the time, she asked, ‘Did you hear him?’

‘I could barely hear what you were saying.’

‘I wish I knew what he’d been trying to tell me.’

‘Me too,’ said Tara.

‘You’re worried, aren’t you?’

‘I’d feel better if I could think of a good reason why Josh Peters wants to blame us and not the man who diverted money from his charity and lied about having an affair with his wife.’

39

‘I was about to phone you,’ Tara said when Justine arrived in the shop. ‘We need to talk.’

‘Yes, we do,’ Justine said, the glint in her eyes a counterpoint to Tara’s scowl.

As Tara led the way to the furthest booth, she remained alert to her surroundings. The morning rush was over and of the scattering of customers who remained, all were known to her. For the time being, there would be no interruptions from journalists demanding a quote from the support group that had spawned the Black Widow, as the press had dubbed Faith.

‘I’ve had some interesting conversations online,’ Justine said.