The wake is held at Lottie’s parents’. Her mum comes over and gives me a hug, and I shake her father’s hand.
‘Thank you for coming,’ her father says.
He turns and leaves the room. Emily places her hand to mine. ‘I’m sorry, he’s still in shock.’
‘I understand. Is there anything I can help you with Mrs... er, Emily?’
‘No, it’s quite all right, dear.’
My parents enter the house. They come over and offer their condolences to Emily.
‘Are you all right, love?’ my mum asks.
I nod.
Dad towers over me. ‘I’m sorry, son. She was a special girl.’
Apart from being sneaky and secretive, yeah, she was special, I think bitterly.
‘Yes, she was,’ I say.
I wonder what will happen if I show Lottie’s parents the laptop, to see their daughter come to life. They have every right to know. My mum goes to the kitchen to help with the food.
‘Your mum told me the police came over to the house to ask about you,’ my dad says.
‘Yes, she told me.’
‘I wish she’d called before talking to them.’
I look at him, at this man who saw me as a burden. Too wrapped up in his anger to spend time with me. Always working, always tired. The slaps I got from him. He might think I don’t remember, but I do. Every child remembers; it leaves a mark, an imprint.
‘What difference would it have made? I have nothing to hide, Dad.’ I say.
I scan the room. Abdel is nowhere to be seen, nor Giselle and Lilia. Davian walks in. He scans the house, spots me and heads in our direction.
‘I’ll go and check on your mother,’ my dad says, and motions to the kitchen.
‘Anthony,’ Davian says.
Why every time he appears the room becomes icy?
‘Davian.’
He is my friend who I have known for years; we grew up together, we stood side by side, we laughed and fought, and I have nothing to say. I can’t just pretend I don’t know what I discovered. I will never look at him the same way.
‘Where is Melissa?’
‘She’s stayed behind. She didn’t know Lottie very well.’
Or she knew what he was doing behind her back and threw him on his arse. Emily is holding a tray of sandwiches, staring at Davian. Is she wondering who he is, or does she know who he is? She can’t seem to keep her eyes off him while passing the sandwiches around. From the look on her face, I can see she’s not happy. What the hell is going on? Why does he look so nervous? Has he been in this house before? Did Lottie bring him here? Has he met her parents? Been introduced as her boyfriend when he wasn’t?
‘It was a nice ceremony,’ I say, trying to ease the pressure.
‘Yes, it was.’
‘Are you...?‘
The loud clatter in the room makes me jump. I glance over my shoulder. Emily is staring at a tray of sandwiches scattered all over the floor. My mum runs to her.
‘I’ll be right back,’ I say to Davian.
‘I’m going for a smoke,’ he said.
Emily is sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of water.
‘I’ll take it from here. You stay put, okay, love?’ my mum says to Emily.
God bless my mum for helping out. I take a canapé from the tray before my mom walks out of the room.
‘That young man you were talking to, who is he?’ Emily said in a quiet tone.
‘That’s Davian, he’s a friend. He used to work with Lottie.’
Emily stands and goes to the sink, looking out of the window. Davian’s back is facing the window, smoking and texting.
‘I’ve seen him before,’ Emily says.
Chapter Twenty
We continue to look at Davian from the kitchen window. It’s unlikely she saw Davian in a magazine or in an art exhibition. I didn’t take her for the type who reads those sorts of things.
‘Where?’ I ask, unable to mask my shock.
She eyes me wryly and sits down on the chair. ‘What does he do?’
I lean against the counter. ‘He’s a photographer.’
She nods. ‘The two detectives came over again and asked me if Lottie ever mentioned a colleague named Davian.’
‘Did she?’
‘No, she didn’t.’
I sit down across from her. ‘Where did you see him?’
‘Here.’
‘Here?’
‘Outside the house, a few months ago. Lottie came to spend the weekend. I had a headache and I went to lie down. At some point, I went to the window and I saw her talking to that attractive young man. She was pointing her finger at him. I suppose they were arguing. A few minutes later, she walked away from him then I heard the front door slam and the shower running. Later, I asked her who the man was and she got all cross and accused me of spying on her.’
Why had Davian come here? What were they arguing about?
‘And you told this to the police?’
Emily gives me a strange a look. ‘I didn’t know it was him, the young man I saw here, so no, I didn’t tell them.’
Davian is in a lot more trouble than he thinks he is.
‘Is he a bad man?’ Emily asks.
‘No,’ I said.
Although, now I feel I don’t know Davian at all or what he’s capable of.
Davian hands me his lighter to fire up my cigarette and we smoke in silence, staring at the houses.
‘The police want to talk to me again.’
‘They do?’ I asked.
‘Yes, they want me to go to the police station tomorrow morning. I’m going with my solicitor.’
I could picture him striding into the police station, groomed within an inch of his life. Alongside him would be a hotshot solicitor, provided by Giselle of course. Davian can’t afford a hotshot lawyer. I wonder where Davian was when Lottie was murdered. It seems everything is linked to him.
‘A solicitor, huh?’ I say, puffing on my cigarette.
‘Yeah, whatever I say can be used as evidence.’
I give him a sideways glance and he shakes his head. ‘I don’t know why they want to interview me again. I told them what I know.’
Did he tell them he had sex with her? Did the police find out the truth behind their relationship? Is this why they want him to go down to the police station? Knowing him, how reserved he is, he would leave the sex part out. To save himself any form of embarrassment or from Melissa finding out.
‘It’s standard procedure. The police will interview anyone who was in contact with Lottie, even co-workers.’ I mash the cigarette under my shoe and light another one.
‘Did they tell you to go down the station?’ he asked.
‘No, they didn’t.’
‘So, you don’t understand my concern,’ he says seriously.
‘Davian, if the police want to arrest you, they wouldn’t be so formal about it.’
‘Yes, but I have no alibi, that’s why.’
I turn to him, but I don’t say anything.
‘I was at my apartment all evening. I wanted to come to your exhibition, but I got held up with work.’
I’m not offended about Davian not coming to my exhibition. I hardly went to his anyway, but I’d invited him to come if he wanted to. Davian didn’t like to go out that much. My friend is rather odd.