‘How do you work like this?’ I asked him through the gloom.
‘Would you like anything to drink?’ he offered, ignoring my comment.
‘I’m fine.’
He lit a cigarette. I did the same.
‘I don’t know what you’re playing at. First, I thought it’s your way to amuse yourself, but it’s not funny, anymore,’ I said.
He looked at me dumbstruck. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘The stunt you pulled with Giselle? Come on, mate, Lottie is upset. Apologise to her and leave her alone. She’s a nice girl.’
‘I know she’s a nice girl,’ he said, exhaling smoke into the air.
‘Then be nice to her. Why are you tormenting her? Is it because she’s my friend?’
Davian arched his eyebrows. ‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?’
‘You know exactly what it means, Davian.’
He gave me a hard look. ‘Are you in love with her?’
‘What?’
‘You heard me.’
‘She’s my friend.’
He kept looking at me sharply. ‘That’s not what I asked.’
‘I care for her,’ I said, glaring at him.
He shrugged. ‘Fine. I’ll apologise.’
‘Davian!’
‘I will, I’ll promise.’
Chapter Eleven
Abdel lives somewhere in Greenwich, but I’m not sure exactly where. We aren’t close; I would call him an acquaintance. I’ve run to him at events and with Lottie, although when she and I met, it was the two of us. The times we spent together were uninterrupted by those around us. If anyone walked by and looked at us, they would have thought we were brother and sister.
I don’t know what I can get out of him since they broke up six months ago. After she ended their relationship, I obviously asked her why.
‘Life,’ she said.
Now that I think about it, she might have dumped him because there was someone else involved. This mystery man, her killer. I call Ella.
‘Why you want to track him down?’ she asks.
I make out noises in the background, ambient music and voices.
‘Just to see how he is,’ I say.
I don’t want anyone to know I have Lottie’s laptop in my possession. I can’t trust anyone; what’s to stop them from telling the police? If I tell Ella, she will try to convince me to do the right thing. I will hand it over, in time, when I’m done, although I have to find a way to do it. I can’t waltz into the police station with the computer of a dead girl.
Abdel’s apartment is a clutter of cameras piled on the coffee table. There are photographs on the floor. A pizza box and an empty bottle of vodka, along with cans of soft drinks on the sofa. There are crumbs on the carpet and a hint of cigarettes and mould in the air. The curtains are shut which makes the living room murky. His eyes are red and puffy; these past few days haven’t been good to him either.
‘It’s a nightmare,’ he says. ‘I can’t believe it, I mean, why?’
‘I don’t know.’
He sighs. ‘Can I get you anything? I’m afraid I don’t have much.’
‘I’m good.’
He takes a bottle of vodka from the cabinet and unscrews the top. ‘That night, I had dinner with my family. My nephew, he turned eighteen, so we all went out. I stayed there till about one and went home to sleep.’
‘Abdel,’ I said.
He takes a swing of vodka. ‘What?’
I take out the photograph, the one I took from Lottie’s closet, from my coat pocket, and hold it out to him so he can have a clear look.
‘What is that?’ he asks.
‘Take a closer look,’ I say.
He squints at the photo and curls his lips. ‘I never saw that before.’
‘It’s an abstract photograph. I found it in her closet.’
He stares at me. ‘I know what it is, but I never saw it before.’
I put the photo back in my pocket. ‘I’m wondering where she got it from. I figured you might have given it to her.’
‘I didn’t.’
‘Okay.’
He sits on the sofa. ‘You two were so close, I could never have that with her; she didn’t look at me the way she looked at you.’
I don’t have time to listen to this.
‘Did you two...?‘
‘No need to torture yourself or me with this. I lost my best friend.’
‘And I lost a woman who I used to date,’ he says.
His voice is sharp enough to cut through steel.
‘Fair enough,’ I say.
I sit across from him. I remove the plastic Pepsi bottle from under my arse and place it on top of the pile on the coffee table.
‘When she broke it off, what did she did say exactly?’ I ask.
‘She didn’t give me a reason. I swear she didn’t. She only said it’s over and she didn’t want to do this anymore. I pleaded with her to give me a reason. I needed closure, at least, so I could move on peacefully. I kept wondering what I could have done wrong.’ His eyes dart to me. ‘I wondered if it was because of him she ended it, at first. I thought it was because of you.’
I lean forward. ‘Wait, you think she dumped you for who?’
‘Davian, who else?’ he says
That’s preposterous. Davian is no saint, but I find it hard to believe.
‘Why on earth she would dump you for Davian?’ I ask.
‘Well,’ Abdel says, and pauses to take a gulp from the vodka, ‘she passed comments about his looks.’
‘Because she made comments about Davian’s looks it doesn’t mean she was sleeping with him,’ I reason.
‘I don’t know, it’s weird.’
I raise my eyebrow. ‘What’s so weird?’
His eyes narrow. ‘Her relationship with him.’
‘They were work colleagues, not even friends. They didn’t have a relationship. All the guy did was give her a hard time.’
He rubs his chin. ‘Did he though?’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Okay,’ he says, planting his legs wide. ‘I go to surprise her at work, right? I thought it would be nice, you know, she was my girl. I looked for her in her cubical and she wasn’t there. It was late. No one was in the office. I went down to the photocopy room. I figured she might be there. I knew my way around the place since I did work for Giselle before. The door was open and I saw them.’
Abdel looks ahead as if he’s remembering the whole thing. ‘They were by the photocopier, him and Lottie. They were talking. I heard her giggle, he took his phone out, and he saw me and said something to her, maybe that I was watching. She looked at me and left the room her face flushed. She seemed nervous, reeking of tension, as if she had been caught. She kept touching her ear and adjusting her skirt. When I asked what was that all about, she said that Davian was giving her instructions regarding an upcoming exhibition.’
‘Did you believe her?’
‘I wanted to, but if he was simply giving her instruction, why the flushed cheeks? The nervousness? The adjusting of clothes?’
‘You think they had sex?’