Waiting for Wednesday by Nicci French Page B

dreadful thing. He’s quite attractive, isn’t he, in a grungy kind of way? Doyou think Chloë’s in love with him? What a calamity. I mean what happened to him. At such an age, too. Just think of it! Let’s have that drink.’
    Billy Hunt stared up at Karlsson. His eyes were bloodshot and he was twitchier and thinner than ever, but he wasn’t budging.
    Karlsson sighed. ‘You’re making life hard for us and hard for yourself. You’ve admitted breaking and entering; the stolen items have been traced back to you; the murder weapon with your prints all over it, and Mrs Lennox’s blood, has been found. Just admit what you did.’
    ‘Unless I didn’t do it.’
    ‘The jury won’t believe you.’ Karlsson stood up. His head felt tight with weariness and irritation. Now his team would have to trawl through the evidence to put a watertight case together. The time he wanted to be spending with his children, Bella and Mikey, would be spent instead examining statements, going through the house again, talking to expert witnesses, making sure the correct procedures had been followed.
    ‘Wait.’
    ‘What now?’
    ‘I wanted to say – there is somewhere I went just before.’
    ‘Before?’
    ‘Before … you know.’
    ‘Tell me anyway.’
    ‘Before I went to the house, where she was.’
    ‘Mrs Lennox.’
    ‘Right. I went to another place first.’
    ‘Which you haven’t told us about?’
    ‘Right.’ Billy bobbed his head up and down. ‘You’ll see why.’
    ‘Hang on, Billy. If you’re going to change your statement, we need to do this officially. I’ll come back.’
    In the corridor, he met Riley.
    ‘Hey,’ said Riley.
    ‘What?’
    ‘I’ve just come from Margaretting Street,’ said Riley. ‘We found something. Under the mat. In fact, I found it. Munster thought you’d want to know.’
    ‘What is it?’
    Riley held up a transparent evidence sachet. Inside was a used envelope on which was scrawled a message, written with a blunt pencil.
    Karlsson took it and held it up: ‘Hello, Ruth, I’m here but where are you? Maybe in the bath. Give us a call when you read this, and we can have our tea.’ At the end there was what looked like two interlocking initials or perhaps a signature. ‘What’s this?’
    ‘Munster thinks it’s a “D” and an “M” but I think it’s “O” and “N”.’
    ‘It might have been there for months. Who’s following it up?’
    ‘DC Long, sir, and Munster. But I’m going back there later. It’s probably not so important, though, is it, even if it is recent? I mean, if Billy killed her, it doesn’t really matter what time exactly she died, right?’
    ‘No, it could be important,’ said Karlsson, thoughtfully.
    ‘You’re welcome, then,’ said Riley, with a cheerful smile.
    Karlsson raised his eyebrows. ‘Just get back to Margaretting Street,’ he said.
    Yvette Long showed the note to Russell Lennox, who stared at it, then shook his head. ‘I don’t recognize the writing.’
    ‘What about the initials?’
    ‘Are those initials? Is that a “G”?’
    ‘A “G”?’
    ‘Or maybe it says Gail.’
    ‘Do you know a Gail?’
    ‘I don’t think so. Or it could be Delia, or even Dell. I don’t know a Delia either, or a Dell. Or it could just be a squiggle.’
    ‘Which of your wife’s friends used to pop round during the day?’
    ‘Oh.’ Russell Lennox frowned. ‘Lots. I don’t know. She knew almost everyone in our neighbourhood. There are her friends and then people she’s friendly with – and she helps organize the street party every year, which means people are always coming in and out. And then there are her friends who aren’t so local. She was very popular, my wife. I was always amazed at how many people she kept in contact with. You should see her Christmas card list.’ He stared at Yvette and shook his head slowly from side to side. ‘I can’t believe I’m already using the past tense,’ he said. ‘Was. She was. As if it happened years