Page 7 of Skulk of Foxes
Charrie’s mouth moved as he replied. I squinted, desperately trying to lip-read the conversation, but with both our faces in profile it was impossible. Even an expert couldn’t have worked out what we were saying.
Charrie held out his hand. Seemingly reluctantly, I passed something over to him. It looked like a small bottle or vial; when he unscrewed it and tipped the contents into his mouth, I knew I was right. What I didn’t know, or couldn’t remember, was what he was drinking.
It wasn’t long afterwards that he collapsed, his knees giving way before his chest fell forward to the ground.
Jones paused the video screen and turned to me. ‘What was that?’ she demanded. ‘What did you give him?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Bullshit!’
‘I don’t remember anything! I told you already, I’ve got amnesia! The first thing I remember is waking up next to him after he was dead. No one else was there. It must have been me who killed him. This though,’ I pointed at the screen, ‘I don’t know what this is.’
Mulroney’s gaze was hard. ‘It’s very convenient that you don’t remember.’
‘I can’t prove that I’ve got amnesia,’ I half-yelled. ‘But whatever is happening on that video, I’m telling the truth. I don’t remember any of it.’
The last thing I wanted was to be caught in an obvious lie. I had to tell the truth where I could – but I could still gently nudge the two police officers in the right direction. ‘It could be poison though. Itmustbe poison.’ I warmed to my topic. ‘I poisoned him. I probably lied and told him I was giving him apple juice. He wouldn’t have known what he was really taking. He wouldn’t have known what was going to happen.’
Mulroney’s answer was cool. ‘Then let’s see, shall we? Let’s see what happens.’
Jones started up the video again. We all watched as my past self dropped the sword and collapsed beside Charrie’s fallen body, hunching over him with shaking shoulders. I was crying. Not just crying; I was sobbing my heart out. Was he dead? Had I actually killed him with a potion? Had I tricked him into drinking it? But if that was the case, why was I so upset that it had worked?
I shook my head, my own confusion as palpable as that of the other three people in the room. From underneath the table, I was aware of Viburna’s legs jiggling with nervous tension. It appeared that she was almost as thrown by all this as I was.
After what seemed like an eternity, the video showed me standing up. I spun round and walked away several steps then I walked back. I seemed to be muttering to myself. I ran my hands through my hair and kicked angrily at nothing. Throughout it all, Charrie didn’t stir.
‘He was already dead,’ Viburna murmured. ‘Whatever you gave him, whatever that was, that’s what killed him.’ She shook herself, apparently remembering she was supposed to be my lawyer. ‘Those are not the actions of a cold-blooded murderer,’ she declared to Mulroney and Jones.
I nudged her sharply with my elbow. Wewantedthem to believe I was a cold-blooded murderer. That was the entire point. ‘But it’s possible,’ Viburna added, ‘that there is indeed some culpability on my client’s part.’
On the video, I took another little bottle out of my pocket. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand before holding it up towards Charrie’s body as if in a toast. Then I drank it down. As soon as I’d swallowed the contents, I grabbed the first empty vial and disappeared from view.
‘Where has she gone?’ Mulroney demanded.
Jones grimaced. ‘The cameras only cover the course holes and teeing-off points. She could have gone anywhere.’
I rubbed my forehead. I was getting rid of the empty bottles. They hadn’t been there when I woke up, so nothing else made any sense. ‘But the sword. Charrie’s head…’
My voice drifted off as my image returned to the screen, a grimly determined tilt to my chin. I picked up the sword again and squeezed my eyes shut. Oh no.
I continued to watch with horrified eyes as the video version of me swung the sword downwards with one strike. The weapon was clearly razor sharp. It only took one blow.
Both the me on screen and the me in the interrogation room heaved. Until this point, it had seemed that nothing made me retch. Now I knew why: I’d already reacted biologically to the worst possible thing that could happen. Nothing could top dismembering an already-dead body.
I continued to stare at the video.
On the screen, I dropped the sword before rolling Charrie’s body so he was on his back. I didn’t seem to notice that I’d covered the sword with his corpse. Instead, I appeared to arrange his limbs as if I wanted him to look more like he was sleeping and less like he was dead. I gently adjusted his decapitated head then leaned over and kissed his brow.
The quality of the recording made it difficult to tell for sure but I was almost certainly still crying. I leaned back on my haunches, swaying. Now it was my turn to look ill. Within seconds I also collapsed, falling sickeningly parallel to Charrie.
That was it, I realised. That was the position I’d been in when I’d woken up with amnesia. I swallowed and looked away from the laptop.
DC Jones reached over and closed the laptop lid with a loud snap. ‘Wait here.’ She and Mulroney got to their feet and walked out of the room.
Silence settled and stretched out as I struggled to make sense of what I’d seen. It seemed to neither entirely prove nor disprove that I was a murderer. At no point had Charrie resisted or tried to run away. While I might well have given him poison, he’d willingly drunk it. What kind of daft arsebadger would do what I told them to do?
Tension snapped in my spine. This was ridiculous. Lock me up already.
