He nods, and turns to look, and that’s when I notice the purple hairband holding his hair up. Purple like the dressing gown wrapped around Keegan. Purple like the vase she’s holding, and her nails and her eyeshadow.
“This isn’t necessary,” Keegan says. “We said we’d deal with it ourselves.”
“You weren’t the ones to phone the police?”
Keegan tips her head in the direction of the house on the other side of the road. “That was Mrs Peterson’s bright idea, but we called them up after she told us, and said it wasn’t necessary to send someone out. It’s a waste of your time. We’ve got this covered.”
“Name,” I ask.
“Ben . . . Ben Malone.”
Keegan Malone. Ben Malone. He’s her stepbrother. Freddie told us once she had a brother called Ben. Ryker has met him a few times, but I’ve not had the displeasure of his company. All I know is that Keegan’s mum started a relationship with Ben’s dad, and they were brought up as siblings for ten years until their parents’ relationship broke down.
They remained close, though.
“Did you see who damaged your car?” I ask.
They look at each other, then away, and I know it was Freddie.
My calm, sweet Freddie did this. He’s not violent, he’s the opposite of violent. But something pushed him to this, something made him snap.
I point at the vase Keegan is holding. “That’s what was used?”
She strokes a gentle thumb over the gold leaf at the top of the vase and nods.
Freddie smashed Ben’s windscreen with Keegan’s vase. She’s wearing very little if her bare legs are any indication. Ben, although dressed, has fixed his hair with one of Keegan’s hair ties. There’s far too much purple on display, and they both look guilty as hell.
“I don’t want him to get into trouble,” Keegan whispers.
I watch Ben. He doesn’t protest. It’s a classic mini, in great condition other than the front window, and he doesn’t want Freddie to be punished for smashing it up. I don’t ask them why he did this. I don’t want them to tell me what happened. I want to hear it from Freddie.
“Did you say you know who did this?” Marie asks, now next to me and poised to jot down Freddie’s name in her notepad.
“Let’s go,” I say.
Marie blinks in confusion. “W . . . what?”
“They don’t require our assistance,” I say. “They want to deal with the incident themselves, so we’ll let them.”
I walk away knowing Marie will follow. She apologises for my blunt departure, then races to catch up with me.
She’s staring at me with wide eyes when we get back into the car. “What the hell was that about?”
“Nothing.”
“You rush us here like it was life or death, and now you want to leave?”
I give her one curt jerk of my head. “Exactly.” I check the time. “And look at that, our shift is over. We can go back to the station.”
She shakes her head. “Whatever you say, Sarge . . .”
11
Freddie
Luckily, I’d left my rucksack in the car from the night I turned up uninvited to Liam and Ryker’s place. I didn’t plan to end up in a bar, but with my rucksack stuffed with essentials and my wallet filled with cash for a hotel room, it’s where I’ve ended up.
The Fox and Hound.
