Kill My Darling by Cynthia Harrod-Eagles Page A

alone in his flat? Don’t they like you?’
    He was playing a game with her, and she wasn’t going to blink first. ‘Ah, sure God, you wouldn’t harm me, with all them people outside. They’d break the door down the minute I screamed.’
    â€˜Maybe. But it’d be too late for you by then, wouldn’t it? You’d be dead. And prison doesn’t scare me any more.’
    â€˜But you wouldn’t want to go back,’ she said shrewdly.
    Something changed in his eyes. He wasn’t baiting her now. ‘Ask your questions,’ he said, and she had to stop herself shivering.
    She searched around for the best way in. She was sure she wouldn’t get to ask many questions, so she needed to ask the right ones. ‘What did you think of Melanie and Scott Hibbert?’
    She had surprised him – it wasn’t the question he expected. That was good.
    â€˜She was mad about him. But she knew he wasn’t good enough for her. She was talking herself into it.’
    â€˜Why would she do that?’
    â€˜There’s a lot you don’t know about her. She wasn’t a happy person. She had things in her past.’
    â€˜D’you mean her father getting killed?’ she asked when it was clear he wasn’t going to say any more.
    He neither assented nor dissented.
    â€˜Wasn’t that a long time ago, though? I mean, what, ten years or more? Surely she’d got over it?’
    Still nothing.
    â€˜You must have known her well to know how she felt about her dad’s death.’
    â€˜We talked sometimes,’ he said.
    â€˜Here? Or in her flat?’
    â€˜Just in passing. Tuesday mornings, putting out the bins. She told me more than she thought she did. She hadn’t got anyone to talk to, that was her trouble.’
    â€˜I thought she had loads of friends. And her mum, and Scott . . .’
    â€˜You ever see someone, always the life and soul of the party, and everybody’s feeding off ’em? It’s like they’ve got to perform, put on the show, and everybody goes away satisfied except them. They have to act. Nobody cares what they want, what they really feel. And everyone says what a great person they are, but inside they’re just—’
    He stopped, as if hearing that he had said too much. But Connolly thought, this is a controlled man, who knows just what he’s saying. He wants me to think he’s just blurted something out. But what?
    â€˜Boy, you really did know her well,’ she said in an awed murmur. ‘I’d no idea.’
    â€˜I know people, that’s all,’ he said. ‘Plenty of time to observe ’em.’
    â€˜So, d’you know who killed her?’ She hadn’t known she was going to ask that, but she was glad she had, though for a moment she went cold and thought, what if he says he did? What in the name a God do I do then?
    But he said, ‘No. But your bosses will think I did, and I don’t blame them. I’d probably think it was me if I was you. I’m on the spot. And I’ve got no alibi.’
    Connolly thought of the secure home over the back. ‘Were you here all the time on Friday?’
    â€˜Why?’
    â€˜I was wondering if you saw anyone hanging around.’
    â€˜I was out all afternoon.’
    â€˜Where?’
    â€˜My business.’
    â€˜Was someone with you?’
    â€˜My business. I was here to see Mel come home at half past ten. That’s all you need to know.’
    â€˜You didn’t hear anything else that night? Anyone else arriving? Melanie going out?’
    â€˜I slept soundly. Always do. I got a clear conscience.’
    She knew that wasn’t an answer. ‘But you’d have heard if she – or anyone else – drove her car away later that night?’
    â€˜Maybe. But I didn’t.’
    â€˜Or if there was any kind of a row upstairs? A fight, furniture turned over, a body hitting the