I Never Lie Read online

  ‘DI Brook.’

  ‘Alex South. Need a quick line on this item that was found by the body.’

  ‘Up to your old tactics, Ms South?’

  I take a deep breath and let it slide.

  ‘Thought I’d help you with some questions.’

  ‘Was that a question?’

  ‘A source says a gym card was found at the location. Can you confirm this?’

  ‘What source is that?’

  The question lingers unanswered between us. I am asking for a lot, I know.

  ‘Look, I can help, you know. I want you to catch the bastard who did this. We’re on the same side, you and I. I live around here and I’m female, for Christ’s sake.’

  Another pause before he finally gives in.

  ‘Off the record?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Yes, a gym card was found by the body. It probably belongs to the dead woman. We are still trying to ID her.’

  ‘Okay. Not the murder weapon, then…’ My humour isn’t something he can appreciate right now, so I push on with the questions. ‘Do you think these women met their killer on a dating app? You know there were hints that the second victim, Maggie Horrocks, met her killer that way.’

  ‘No comment.’

  ‘You mean yes?’

  ‘I mean no comment.’

  ‘You do realise that this is a public safety issue?’

  ‘I’m fully aware of the dangers, Ms South, but thanks for pointing them out to me.’

  ‘So how was this latest victim killed?’

  ‘We think strangled, possibly drugged.’

  I put my hands to my throat and remember my sexual encounter this morning. It’s time to wrap this up. I’m not feeling well at all.

  ‘I’m assuming it was a Hackney gym?’

  But he’s already gone.

  Six minutes later, I’m readying to go live on air, impatient for my next drink, when a message from DI Brook pings on my phone. There’s an attachment; it’s a photo of a gym card belonging to Hackney council leisure centres. It has no name on it. It’s one of those plastic cards that could belong to anyone. I think Laura is right. I’m guessing someone dropped it in the park, probably on their way to the public lido, but it’s the only lead we have, so I need to pay attention to it.

  7

  February 2017

  Dear Diary,

  I feel better today. The shakes come then go, usually after I’ve had a drink. This time I’ve made it through two full weeks with only a few bottles of white wine and I’m feeling so much better about myself for doing that. The first step was admitting I have a problem, and that feels good. I have also, to a certain degree, admitted I’m powerless over alcohol, encouraged by the group at AA, and that has changed my relationship with it. It feels like progress. I thought I’d celebrate with Alex and bought two tickets to see the new Bond film, but I hadn’t realised it’s her birthday tomorrow and she has to spend the day with her fiancé and his family. I was disappointed, but I understand, especially in her condition. She told me she’s pregnant, which is amazing. It’s why she started going to AA. Neither of us are completely dry yet, but we will be.

  I wish I could just cut back and moderate my drinking like her, but I know myself. I can’t. She says that perhaps I have an addictive personality, so I read up on it online. I think she might be right, because I’m becoming addicted to her in a way. Sometimes when I’m alone I replay the voicemail she left on my phone after our first AA meeting, in which she tells me to believe in myself. I like the sound of her voice. It’s very comforting.

  I found it upsetting to not be invited to her birthday party, but I am trying to understand. She has to do the family thing too. I get that. I gave her a gift anyway, a bracelet with our initials on it. She looked like she was totally blown away by it. It wasn’t expensive but it was real silver. Maybe it was a bit over the top, but I just wanted to show her how much she means to me. How grateful I am that I met her. She has changed my life forever and I owe her so much. I can’t imagine life without her in it now.

  8

  It has been a long day and it’s not quite over yet, such is the life chasing a big story. It’s okay, though; it’s a buzz and helps distract me from the voice in my head that wants another drink.

  I left Audrey and Jack gathering interviews with locals and went to King’s Hall pool and gym to see if I could find out anything on the membership card. It also gave me a much-needed breather from the crew, as my head is still pounding. I need to drink some serious amounts of water today.

  Visiting the gym turned out to be pointless. It’s a card with no name or address on it. The receptionist was really nice but I felt like a bit of an idiot if truth be told, because she couldn’t tell me if anyone had reported their card lost. She said that even if she could, it would be inconclusive. Many people lose their cards and replace them apparently. She said she really wouldn’t know where to start. It could be an old card for all she knew.

  So I find myself sitting in a pub with a glass of wine on the table. I really didn’t mean to do it, but here I am. I don’t drink all the time. I have periods when I’m more prone to it than others. And it just so happens that this story broke while I was in the middle of one of my drinking weeks.

  I can control it, though. I can detox, then get dry again. That’s what I do. I can wean myself off it by reducing the amount I consume. It’s just a physical addiction, you see. But that will have to wait until tomorrow, because it’ll totally wipe me out and I can’t afford for that to happen while I’ve got a top story to report on. It’s really important that I get this right, which means that for now, I just need to have enough alcohol in my blood to keep me going. Tomorrow the story will die down and I’ll be able to nip this in the bud once and for all. This time I’m going to make it stick. Being on the lunchtime bulletin was a wake-up call and I do really want to be someone in my career. I have another chance and I’m not going to blow it this time round.

  Audrey has just texted me to say she’s had a tip from her source at the Met that they might name the victim soon, so we should be prepared. UKBC’s rolling news channel will be keen to have us live as soon as that breaks. The lunchtime and evening bulletins are the flagship programmes that every reporter wants to be on, but the channel never stops, which means there will be no let-up if the story continues to develop. I need to get my head straight, so I finish the wine and go and buy some chewing gum to disguise what I’ve been up to.

  As I’m leaving the shop, I get another text from Audrey to say they are about to name the victim and I should get back to the park so we can go live with it. Shit. Right. I shouldn’t have sat down, really, because it’s made me feel tired. My body is hurting; muscles I didn’t even know existed aching. I really need to get back to the gym once I’m dry this time around. I mean, if a one-night stand can make me feel this achy, what would happen if I got pregnant? I need to be stronger.

  Audrey is calling.

  ‘Alex, where are you? We need to be live in twenty minutes. Can you make it?’

  ‘Hi, Audrey. Don’t panic. I’m only five minutes away. I’ll be there in a mo.’

  I hang up and pick up the pace. She has been listening to gossip in the news centre, I suppose, and is worried that I’m unreliable. It’s not fair that I’m still living in the shadow of what happened. I mean, am I ever going to live that down? It was one incident. I’m going to have to prove them all wrong. I’m good at what I do. People make mistakes, don’t they? I am only human after all.

  When I get to the park, Jack wires me up while Audrey paces up and down nervously with her headphones on.

  ‘I’m listening to a press conference from the Met. DI Brook left here shortly after you went to check out your lead. He’s going to make the announcement outside the police station.’

  ‘What?’ This makes me a bit angry, as that’s where I’ve just come from. Hackney. ‘Why aren’t we there?’ I’m looking at both Jack and Audrey now. ‘I mean
, why are we in the park when he’s making the statement at the station? It’s only a ten-minute walk from here.’

  ‘We weren’t sure where you were, Alex. Anyway, it’s too late now. Plus I’m set up for here. We know the signal works. There’s still a crime scene behind you. I think it’ll be fine. The agencies are there covering his statement.’

  ‘Okay.’

  I’m feeling a bit ratty now, but Audrey has given me one of her headphones so I can listen to the presser. She has cleverly got the news centre to play it down the line from the gallery. I like Audrey. She’s resourceful. DI Brook has just started talking.

  ‘We are appealing to Sarah Wilcox, a woman who we believe probably lives in the local area, to come forward to the police. A gym card belonging to her was found near the body and we’d like to rule her out of our enquiries, so I ask you, Miss Wilcox, to get in touch by calling the helpline on the screen. That’s all the information we have at this moment. Thank you.’

  I’m a bit thrown, as we thought the police would announce the name of the victim, but instead they have issued the name of someone wanted in connection. I feel like I could throw up, and I’m not sure whether it’s my hangover or the fact that I’m not properly prepared, having been given the wrong information by my producer.

  Embarrassed, Audrey pulls the headphone away from me while Jack stares down his viewfinder. A voice in my earpiece asks if I’m ready, which I am, I guess. It’s now or never. I don’t have a lot to go on and I feel really ill. I can hear the presenter explaining to our viewers that the police have released the name of someone potentially connected to the crime, before asking me for an update from the scene.

  ‘Yes, that’s right, Jane, the police have just given us the name of someone who they believe may be potentially connected to the crime, a Sarah Wilcox. They say they got this name from a gym card found near the body. They haven’t gone as far as to say they believe she is a suspect, but it would seem they think she might know something that could help the investigation. We don’t have much more information than that at this point. They were quick to release this name, though, so they must think it’s important.’

  ‘Indeed, Alex. Let’s hope it does help their investigation, as you say, I imagine it’s very worrying for the residents of east London. Alex South, thank you.’

  The news bulletin has moved on.

  ‘Nice work, Alex!’

  Audrey is buzzing with the excitement of live TV. I’m having a bit of an adrenalin rush myself, which is helping my tired body stay upright.

  ‘So what now?’ I look at Jack, who looks at Audrey.

  ‘We find out who this Sarah Wilcox is and locate her family. We need to get ahead of the story. I’m on it, don’t you worry. I’ll talk to the news centre.’

  Audrey looks like a woman on a mission. She has already left us, phone in hand, looking purposeful. Moments later, she’s back with a big grin on her face.

  ‘We’re going to Manchester.’

  ‘What? Why?’ A feeling of dread washes over me.

  ‘Tip-off from James Pastor, the security correspondent. His missus works in the Met’s Serious Crime Division. Says the Wilcox girl is from Manchester.’

  ‘Is he sure?’

  ‘That’s what he says. Anyway, it’s a gift, Alex, we can get ahead of the pack on this one. Find the Wilcox family, interview them and get a scoop.’

  I’m not sure how I feel about this development. I haven’t been back to Manchester since I left a year ago, since my life fell apart there, since the miscarriage, but it’s stellar work by Audrey, I’ll give her that. The news gods have deemed it a credible lead, so we’re going. The last train leaves at eleven o’clock and we’re booked on it. They’ve told us to go home and pack, while the on-shift reporter in the newsroom picks up the slack. Our focus has shifted now, to finding the Wilcox family and getting an exclusive with the mother or father. It’s the part of the job I don’t like so much, because it feels intrusive, but such is the business we’re in. Audrey and I agree to meet at the train station later. She reckons by then she’ll have the Wilcox address nailed down. I really do like her, although I am nervous about returning, given my past there. I lost a lot and I’m not sure if I’m ready to face that yet.

  * * *

  Back home, the box of Milk Tray greets me when I enter the kitchen. Another reminder of the past. God, what if I run into Greg? Perhaps the opportunity to head north is a sign that I should look him up. Not that I’d know where to start; I don’t even know if he’s still in Manchester. I can’t believe how fast this year has passed really. It feels like only yesterday I was living and working there, presenting my radio show.

  I’m starving, so I cast off my initial reservations about who sent the chocolates and get stuck in. The sugar rush hits moments after my first kill. Praline. It sticks to my teeth. The second I eat in stages, sucking out the soft centre first. Greg’s favourite, caramel, which makes me feel oddly close to him for the first time in a year. They say you know when you know, don’t they? About potential partners. That’s how it felt with Greg. I knew the day I met him we were destined to be together. I didn’t know then that we were also destined to be apart.

  After my fourth chocolate – or is it my fifth? – tears begin to trickle down my cheeks. It’s the longing for true love again rearing its ugly head, I suppose. I have spent the best part of the last year telling myself I don’t need it, that I’m better off without it, but the truth is I miss that bond that comes with connecting through silly objects like Milk Tray. I put the kettle on and tell myself not to give into these feelings, because wallowing in regret is no way to live. I’m actually doing really well. I’m becoming a success story. Northern lass making it big in the capital. Better to wipe the tears away and toast my new life. To this story. A story that got me on air today, back in the game where I can truly shine.

  I open the fridge to get the milk out, but staring back at me is half a bottle of white wine. I don’t even bother with a glass; it’ll only slow me down. A large swig turns into the rest of the bottle. I actually feel quite pissed now. Thank God I don’t need to be on air until tomorrow. A stroke of luck really: the whole return-to-Manchester scenario has helped me get through the day in a way, because I got to come home in the midst of a binge. I should be grateful for it, not resentful. Small miracles and all that.

  As I’m stuffing another chocolate in my mouth, I notice a Post-it note stuck curiously to my teapot.

  Hey, Alex, I really enjoyed last night, so if you do change your mind and want to hang out again, my number is 07825 467768. Nigel x

  Maybe I should take a risk for a change and give this guy another chance. I’m doing so much better than I was. But then I feel my neck and decide against it. Just as I’m thinking this, there’s a loud crash above my head, followed by the sound of breaking glass.

  9

  When Charlie opens the door, his hand is wrapped in bloody paper towels.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Was hanging a mirror.’ He shrugs. ‘The hook broke off.’

  ‘Your DIY skills are appalling.’

  ‘Thanks. So, have you got a minute to help sort this out?’

  He ushers me through the door and up the narrow wooden stairs to the kitchen.

  ‘Have you been drinking, Alex?’

  I guess he can smell the wine.

  ‘Do you want me to sort this out or not?’

  He shuts up.

  ‘Have you got plasters?’ I ask.

  ‘In that drawer over there.’

  I run his hand under cold water while he winces, then bandage him up.

  ‘There. All done. Shall I put the kettle on?’ I don’t want tea, but I’m trying to prove to him that I can do normal. Charlie knows more about my drinking habits than he likes to let on.

  ‘You’ve done a good job. Thanks, Alex.’

  ‘Couldn’t do that if I’d been drinking, could I?’

  He smirks.

  ‘Anyway, I�
�ve been in the park all day. Working.’

  ‘Oh shit, yeah. I saw, sorry. You been busy with this news about these women? All sounds a bit mental. Big story for you.’

  ‘Yeah. Watched a body bag being taken away a bit earlier.’

  ‘Shit. Whereabouts on the Fields?’

  ‘Close to Pub on the Park. Our end.’

  ‘That’s rough. You all right?’

  ‘Can’t really get my head around it. Feels a bit surreal, you know.’

  ‘Could happen anywhere, I suppose.’

  He has his back to me. His broad shoulders tense as he opens the overly stuffed cupboard to find a couple of clean mugs. We’ve had our moments, but it’s never come to anything serious.

  ‘Yeah, but it didn’t. It happened here.’

  ‘How did she die?’

  ‘The police haven’t confirmed it yet, but my source says she was strangled.’ I rub my neck again.

  ‘Don’t they think it’s linked to online dating? I hope you’re being careful on your dates.’

  ‘Not officially, but Twitter thinks so. The greatest news source these days. But I am being careful, don’t worry.’

  ‘You go out with strangers all the time.’ Charlie’s blazing blue eyes sparkle at me.

  ‘Do I detect a hint of jealousy?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I have no claim on you, but I do worry about you.’

  ‘Well, that’s very sweet, but I’ll be fine. My editors want me to go to Manchester.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘That woman they’re looking for, that’s where she’s from, apparently.’

  ‘Oh, right. So you’re going home.’

  The thought of it leaves me cold.

  ‘Yep, looks like it. Career opportunity, you know.’

  ‘Will you have time to visit friends and family?’

  ‘Maybe. Depends on the story, I guess.’

  Charlie doesn’t know much about my life before London, and I prefer it that way. Some things are better left in the past because they can taint the present and ruin the future. Although I realise that my philosophy on this is quickly falling apart having eaten half the box of Milk Tray.