Hanging Hill - Mo Hayder [139]
She broke off. Sally had sat forward and was gaping at her, her mouth open. ‘You’re not joking? Are you?’
‘Of course I’m not jok— What is it?’
‘Good God.’ Sally stood up. ‘Good God. Kelvin?’
‘Yes. Christ almighty, Sally.’ Zoë rubbed the tears off her face and stared at her sister. ‘What the hell have I said?’
34
Zoë had drunk all the water and the coffee and life was coming back into her now that Kelvin was washed off her. She dried herself and carefully cleaned her face with tissues and cotton buds. She dabbed some antiseptic cream on the cuts, then put on a towelling robe she found hanging on the back of the door. She did it all without looking in the mirror. From time to time she opened the door a crack and peered out into the cottage, wondering where on earth Sally had gone, what was keeping her. What the hell had she said to make her jump up like that?
After a long time there was a knock at the door. When Zoë opened it Sally was standing there in silence, holding an open bottle of wine and two glasses between her fingers. Her face was very white and serious.
‘Wine?’ said Zoë. ‘At two in the afternoon?’
‘I’ve decided to become an alcoholic. Just for the duration of my middle years.’ She filled a glass and rested it on the edge of the washbasin. ‘That’s yours.’
Zoë took it and sat on the rim of the bath, studying her sister. Something had changed in her face. She was a different person from the one who’d opened the front door to her and run the bath. As if something important had happened in the ten minutes she’d been gone. ‘Come on, then, Sally. What is it?’
There was a small pause. Then, without looking her in the eye, Sally pulled a handful of tissues out of her cardigan pocket. They were creased and dirty and had lipstick on them. She got down on the floor, pushed the bath mat away, and spread them out, making sure they were all lined up. Letters appeared – a phrase scribbled back to front. Zoë squinted and slowly made out the sentence: You won’t get away with it. Evil bitch. She shook her head, mystified. ‘I don’t get it. What’s this?’
‘Kelvin Burford. He wrote it on the seat of my car.’
She squatted down. Read it again slowly. Her head began to throb. The lipstick was the same shade as the one Kelvin had used on Lorne. But that detail hadn’t been given out to the public. No one knew about the messages in lipstick. ‘What,’ she said slowly, ‘makes you think it was Kelvin?’
‘Because of what I found when I was at his house. This morning.’
‘You were there this morning? No – I was there this mor …’ Her voice faded. ‘I was there, not you.’
‘I was too. When you arrived I was in the back room. Did you knock?’
‘Yes.’
‘That’s when I left.’
‘Hang on, hang on.’ She held up a hand. ‘Slowly now. Why were you there?’
‘He’s trying to blackmail me. I found the lipstick he used to write this in. He’s either blackmailing me or trying to scare me into giving myself up to the police.’
‘Giving yourself up to the police?’
Sally nodded at her sister. Her expression was sad – determined, and brave, but very sad too.
‘Sally? What the hell’s going on? What is it?’
‘I did it.’
‘Did what?’
‘David Goldrab. You want to know what happened to him, and I’m telling you. It was me. I killed him.’
‘Yeah, right.’
‘I mean it. I killed him and I didn’t report it. Even though I should have. But I didn’t. And then …’ She rubbed her hands together nervously. ‘I had to get rid of the body.’
Zoë snorted. ‘Wish I’d been there. I’d’ve helped. He’s an arse.’
‘No, Zoë. I really mean it.’
Zoë became very still. She studied her sister’s face. Her eyes had lost their usual soft smudgy blueness. As if they’d cracked somehow, like marbles. There was something tough and proud in them. Zoë gave a hesitant, uncertain smile. ‘Sally?’
‘Everyone thought you were really independent and clever and smart. Well, everyone thought I was really mild and harmless. And stupid. But it turns out I’m not. I killed David Goldrab and I covered the whole thing