I can’t get the image of Mike’s face out of my head. Of his open eyes and slack mouth. Of the blood. I wait outside his apartment in the hall, sitting in the chair next to the pot plant. I don’t want to be here. I want to go home but the police told me to stay put. Who killed him? Why? A robbery gone wrong? A business deal gone bad? Something more… personal? Poor Darcy. What’s she going to do now? Unless… No. That’s just crazy. She’s certainly got a screw loose, but would she really go so far as to kill her own husband?

The strains of Mr Brightside startle me. I stare at my phone screen, my vision hazy, and see it’s Jared calling. I answer.

‘Hello,’ I say shakily.

‘Louisa, I’m sorry about before. I was being a knob. Come home.’

‘Jared, something’s happened.’ My voice cracks.

‘Are you okay?’

‘No. No I’m not.’

‘Where are you? Are you hurt?’

‘No. It’s Mike. He…’ I look up as the lift door opens, disgorging two male uniformed police officers. ‘I’ve got to go,’ I say, rising to my feet. ‘The police are here.’

‘The police! Lou, tell me where you are. What the hell’s going on?’

‘I’m at Mike’s. Look, I’ll call you back.’ I’m well aware that Jared is probably freaked out by now. But one of the officers is asking me to end the call.

‘Louisa, don’t hang up.’

‘I’ll call you back,’ I repeat and end our conversation.

‘Are you Louisa Sullivan?’ the older officer asks.

‘Yes.’

‘Was it you who made the 999 call just now?’

I nod.

‘My name is Sergeant Merton, and this is my colleague Constable Santani. Are you hurt at all?’

I shake my head. ‘No.’

‘Can you tell me where you saw—’

‘In there,’ I interrupt. ‘In the kitchen.’ I point through the semi-open door to the flat. ‘I don’t want to go back inside.’

‘No, that’s fine,’ he says. ‘You can stay out here. We’ll be out in a minute.’ He nods to the other officer and they stride into Mike’s flat.

My phone rings again. It’s Jared. He keeps calling. The music from my ringtone is making my nerves even worse, so I set my phone to silent. I’ll wait until I get a proper chance to talk to him before calling him back. A small, petty part of me is punishing him for how he spoke to me earlier. I want him to worry about me. The officers’ voices float out of the apartment, deep and low, but I can’t make out what they’re saying. Then, I hear the louder static click of a police radio, and a woman’s voice, asking questions about the body and the female witness. I guess they mean me. Only I didn’t witness anything.

The officers come back out into the lobby.

‘Did you touch anything inside the flat?’ Sergeant Merton asks.

I shake my head. ‘Only the door handles. Oh, and the light switches.’

‘How about the deceased? Did you touch his clothing or the weapon?’

‘No. He was… he was like that when I got here. I didn’t touch anything.’

‘You’re sure?’

‘Yes.’ I nod.

‘Good, okay. CID are on their way, and they’ll want to talk to you when they get here.’

‘Can I call my husband?’ I ask.

‘Sure, go ahead.’

They make no move to go back into the apartment, so I guess I’ll have to speak to Jared while they’re listening in.

I don’t need to make the call. My phone buzzes and Jared’s tanned face flashes up on my screen – a photo of him I took last year on holiday in Cornwall. I press reply.

‘Hi. Sorry I had to hang up before. The police just got here and wanted to talk to me.’

‘God, what’s happened? You’re at Mike’s?’

‘Yes, look, hang on and I’ll tell you.’ I run a hand through my hair and sit back down on the seat. The younger officer shakes his head and motions to me to get up, so I stand and walk over to the edge of the lobby where a window looks down into a car park full of expensive vehicles. ‘I came over to see Mike,’ I say in a low voice. ‘I wanted to hear his side of things. And then I changed my mind. I was about to come home and forget all about the Lanes. But Mike’s apartment door was open, so I got worried. I went inside, and he was on the kitchen floor. Jared, he’s dead.’

‘Shit. No. Dead? What happened? An accident? Or…’

‘It’s awful. He’s in there right now. There’s blood. It looks like he was killed.’

‘Fuck. Where are you?’

‘In the hallway outside, with the police. They’re waiting for CID to arrive. They want to talk to me. I’m freaking out, Jared. What if they think I’m something to do with it?’

‘Did you touch anything? His body or…’

‘No.’

‘Okay, good. And you were the one who called the police, right?’

‘Mm.’

‘So, then that’s fine. You’re hardly going to call the police if you killed the man, are you?’

‘No. No, I guess not. Unless it’s like a double bluff or something.’ My heart is suddenly loud in my ears, my whole body pulsing with fear.

‘I don’t think so,’ he says. ‘I’m coming over. Where’s the flat?’

‘No,’ I say. ‘You need to stay with Joe.’

‘I’ll get a babysitter.’

‘No, it’s too late, you’ll never get anyone at this time.’

‘What about your sister?’

I pause. Beth would do it… No. I don’t want to call her out at this time of night. She’ll be tired from work. ‘I’ll be fine, Jared.’ I’m not fine – far from it, but it’ll be too complicated for him to come here. ‘Look, hopefully, they’ll ask a few questions and then I can come straight home.’

‘Okay,’ Jared says, ‘But, I’m not happy about it. I should be there with you. And anyway, I still think I should call your sister. It might to handy to have a lawyer, just in case.’

‘Oh my God, Jared. Do you think I need a lawyer?’ I take a breath and press my fingers to my forehead.

‘Calm down. You’ll be fine. I’ll call Beth just as a precaution.’ He pauses. ‘What about Darcy? Should someone tell her about Mike?’

‘Let the police do it,’ I say. ‘You need to stay with Joe, and it’s not something you can tell her over the phone. She’ll need to be with someone.’

‘Okay. So, let me ring Beth and then I’ll call you straight back.’

‘I might not be able to answer. The police…’

‘Well, okay, ring me as soon as you can. Give me five minutes to talk to your sister.’

‘Okay.’

The lift door opens again and several people get out. I assume they must be police officers, even though they’re not in uniform.

‘They’re here,’ I say to Jared. ‘The other officers. I better go.’

‘Okay, speak soon.’

‘Love you,’ I say.

‘You too.’

I notice Jared didn’t say the actual words. He normally says he loves me, too. The window has steamed up. I run my finger across the glass, turn around and brace myself for more questions.

I’ve been ‘invited’ to the police station for an interview to answer more questions. I already told them everything back at Mike’s flat but apparently they want to clarify some things. So here I am, two-and-a-half hours later, in a tiny interview room with stained blue walls and no window. A musty smell permeates the small space – it’s so bad, I’m not sure whether it’s better to breathe through my mouth or my nose.

Sitting opposite me are the investigating officers DS Locke and DC Benson. They’ve both been studiously polite, offering me a sandwich and a cup of tea, but I’m not hungry. So I sit on my chair with a plastic cup of water, waiting for the interview to begin, a black video-recording device between us on the fake wooden table, a ceiling camera angled down at me.

When I first got here, they took my clothing as evidence, so now I’m wearing a borrowed navy tracksuit. It’s clean, at least. I voluntarily gave them my fingerprints and DNA as a precaution to eliminate me from their enquiries. I’ve been told I’m not under caution and I don’t need a solicitor. That this is purely a witness interview. Yet my heart still clatters like a guilty person. It’s so loud, I’m sure the two officers can hear it. I wish Jared or Beth were here with me to tell me everything’s going to be okay.

‘Stick the air con on, will you,’ DS Locke says to his colleague. ‘It smells rank in here.’

I’m already freezing but at least the fresh air might get rid of the cheesy smell. Benson nods, stands and leaves the room. I’m left alone with Locke for a moment. Rather than look at him, I stare fixedly at the wonky blue carpet tiles. After a brief moment, a faint hum emanates from a vent high up on the wall. Benson re-enters the room and sits next to Locke, their faces merging as my vision blurs with anxiety.

‘Have you told Darcy yet?’ I ask. ‘Mike’s wife.’

‘We’ve informed Mrs Lane,’ Locke replies, ‘and she’s currently helping us with our enquiries.’

I wonder if she’s here, too, in a different interview room. I wonder whether she’s taking the news calmly, or if she’s hysterical with grief. God! I hope she doesn’t spin any of her lies.

‘Do you know who did it, yet?’ I ask. ‘Who killed Mike?’

‘We’re trying to establish that, Mrs Sullivan,’ Locke replies.

‘Do you think you could call me Louisa?’ I ask.

‘Sure. We’ll be recording the interview now, and DC Benson will also take notes, okay?’

‘Okay,’ I reply.

Locke presses the record button. He states the date, time and place, and we all have to introduce ourselves. Then Locke asks me all the same questions they asked back at Mike’s flat, and I answer in the same way, telling them how the apartment door was open and so I went inside, which was how I found Mike on the floor. That I never touched anything apart from the door handles and light switches, and then I called 999.

‘And why were you at the apartment, Louisa?’ Locke continues.

I tell him about Darcy and Mike’s break up. How Mike was upset and wanted me to come over.

‘Have you visited Michael Lane’s apartment on any previous occasion?’ Locke asks.

‘No.’

‘Have you met with Mr Lane alone, on any previous occasion?’

‘What? No.’

‘You’re certain about this?’

‘Absolutely. I hardly know him. It’s Darcy who’s my… friend.’

Locke nods and smiles at me, but I don’t feel reassured. I rub my eyes – they’re raw and scratchy. The skin around them feels dry and greasy at the same time. The glands in my throat are swollen like I’m fighting off a virus.

‘Would you say you have a good relationship with Mrs Lane?’ Locke asks.

My heart rate speeds up and my hands begin to sweat. I wipe my palms on my jeans. If I tell them about my argument with Darcy, will they think I had something to do with Mike’s murder? I wish Beth was here, but if I ask for a lawyer they’re going to think I’m guilty for sure. No. I’ll have to tell the truth and trust that they’ll believe me.

‘I’ve always had a good relationship with Darcy,’ I say, stretching the truth a little, ‘but we did have a little falling out today.’

‘Oh?’

‘Our kids haven’t been getting along, and Darcy got upset when I asked her to speak to Tyler about it – Tyler’s her son. Also, she didn’t…’ I pause, putting my hands to my cheeks.

‘Go on,’ Locke prompts. His voice is deep and even, almost soothing, which is completely at odds with the panic his questions are stirring.

‘Also, she wasn’t happy about me going to see Mike this evening.’ I swallow. My mouth is dry as dust, my throat rasping. I take a sip of water. ‘The Lanes are separated at the moment,’ I explain. ‘I was only going to see him to see if I could help patch things up between them. Mike was really upset when I saw him on the beach earlier.’

‘You met Mr Lane on the beach today?’ Locke says.

Shit, that sounds bad. ‘I was out walking on my own,’ I explain. ‘I bumped into him. That’s when he asked me to come over to his place so he could ask me about getting back with Darcy.’

‘And yet, you said a moment ago that you had never met Mr Lane alone on any previous occasion?’

‘Before today, I meant.’

‘So, other than today on the beach, you never met with Mr Lane alone?’

‘Yes. I mean, no, I never met with him. I didn’t even want to go there this evening, but he was upset.’

‘Upset in what way?’

‘He was sad. He wanted to get back with Darcy, and said he didn’t understand why she kicked him out.’

‘Mrs Lane tells us you threatened and taunted her this afternoon in the school playground.’

‘What! No. I…’ I’m sweating now, my hands trembling. This interview isn’t how I thought it would be. They’re making me feel like I’m guilty of something.

‘Mrs Lane says she has witnesses,’ Locke continues. ‘She says that you caused her considerable stress and upset.’

‘No!’ I can’t believe she actually lied to the police about this. Actually… I can believe it. ‘It was the other way around,’ I say. ‘I told my husband all about it earlier. Darcy made out that I was moving in on her husband, but it’s not true.’ The more I say, the worse it sounds. I hear the words as they fall from my lips, and even I wouldn’t believe me.

‘Okay,’ Locke says, in his calm manner. ‘Well, we’ll be interviewing the witnesses. And I have to warn you that Mrs Lane is confident they’ll back up her story. She says you threatened her and you threatened her husband.’

‘That’s a total lie!’ I realise that of course all the other mums will take Darcy’s side. As far as they’re concerned, they saw Darcy get upset after talking to me. They’ll have put two and two together and come up with twenty three. What can I say that will make the police believe me?

‘Am I under arrest?’ I ask. ‘You said this was just a witness interview.’ My brain has turned to mush. ‘Look,’ I say, my voice quavering, ‘I’d really like to go home now. I’m exhausted. I can always come back tomorrow and—’

‘Louisa Sullivan,’ Locke says, interrupting my plea, ‘I’m arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Michael Lane. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’

As he speaks, the room fades in and out of focus. His words sound as though they’re being spoken from a long way away. How can this be happening to me? How can I be under arrest? Do they really think I have something to do with Mike’s murder? I grip the edge of the table, my cold knuckles white as bone.

‘I need Beth,’ I cry. ‘Get my sister – she’s a lawyer. I won’t say anything else without her here.’