Some Kind of Fairy Tale by Graham Joyce

veins throbbing at her temple. “Charge him or let him go.”
    “I’m not going to charge you, Richie. I’m sorry that happened. He’s old school, Richie. That’s how they used to do it. Look, boy, just give me something. Anything. Any tiny detail that will help me find her. You know where she is, Richie. Any tiny detail. Her mum and dad, Richie, they are going out of their minds. It would be better for them if they could find out what happened. You can see that, can’t you? I mean, they are very fond of you, Richie. They’ve been kind to you. Like a second mum and dad, right? You owe it to them. You can see that?”
    “I don’t know anything!”
    “Just one detail, Richie. Help yourself. I beg you.”
    And I start crying. I wish I could say that I didn’t but I’m blubbering like a baby. It’s not being smacked around, that’s not it. Well, it might have something to do with that, but mostly it’s the thought of what might have happened to Tara.
    “Is it true?” I manage to get out. “Did Tara get rid of the baby?”
    Dave nods at me, yes. He closes in across the table. My head is bent forward and he has a gentle but leathery hand on my neck. “It’s all right. Let it go, Richie. Let it all go. That’s right. That’s right. That’s the way. It’s all going to be all right. That’s the way. Richie, did you hurt Tara?”
    “Yes,” I sob, “yes, yes, yes.”
    “This is duress,” says my lawyer.
    Dave nods. “Richie, there’s a stone. In the woods. A big stone, and most of it is covered in orange lichen and moss. You know that stone, don’t you?”
    “Yes. Yes.”
    “Around the stone we could see that all the ferns and the bluebells had been bashed down as if two people had been lying down there together.”
    I sob out loud. There’s a pain deep inside me.
    “Is that where it happened, Richie? Is that where you did it?”
    “Yes.”
    He takes a deep breath, as if his work is done. He nods gently. “How did you do it, Richie?”
    I look up at him. “Normal way.”
    “What’s the normal way, Richie?”
    He’s gazing deep into my eyes. I can’t think why he wants to know that. “Just … normal …” I say.
    “You’re going to have to tell me what’s normal.”
    I look at my lawyer. She’s gazing down at me, her arms folded tight around her. Her brow is furrowed. “How many ways are there?” I ask her.
    She says, “He’s talking about sex, for goodness’ sake!”
    DC Dave blinks and looks disappointed in me, like I’ve just let him down. “So you had sex there?”
    “Yes.”
    “And after you had sex, that’s when you did it?”
    “What?” I turn to look at my lawyer. “Did what?”
    I look back at DC Dave, and he is so focused on me he has the expression of a man trying to pick a lock with a hairpin.
    “Richie, there’s the stone in the bluebell wood. And on that stone we found a ring.” He holds up something shiny for me to see. It’s the ring I’d given Tara.
    “Where did you get that?”
    “It was on the stone. It had been placed there. Did you put it there after you’d done it?”
    I’m like a drunk suddenly feeling sober after a gallon of coffee. “Wait,” I says, “wait. When I says to you I did it I mean that’s where we first had sex. Nothing else. By that stone. A year ago. I haven’t been there recently!” With a sense of panic I turn to my lawyer. “Tell him that’s what I meant!”
    “Enough!” says my lawyer. “That’s enough. Charge the lad or let him go. You can see he’s under duress.”
    Dave raises his eyebrows. “You were so close, Richie. So close.”
    “Can he go?” says my lawyer.
    Dave indicates that the way to the door is clear. Julia Langley gathers her pen and notes from the desk and stands up. “Come along, Richie.” I follow her. Dave doesn’t even look at me. He just looks at the wall as if he’s very tired. Very tired and very sad.
    Outside in the corridor the fat fuck stands leering at me. The corridor is