Live to Tell by G. L. Watt Read Free Book Online Page B

place to be, I thought. I was sure that if he had been on his own soil, he would have given the man a piece of his mind. As it was, he restrained himself regally.
    By the time the policeman left, I felt worn out. He had elicited my story in detail, much good that it might have done him, for, as I kept saying, I knew nothing. I then scrubbed the floor and the walls where the blood had congealed earlier that morning.

    Hospital visiting started from two p.m., and together Jurgen and I went to see Aidan. Jurgen parked the car beside a parking meter and I felt shocked at how much money he had to put in. We then went to the hospital shop and bought some flowers before making our way to the third floor where Aidan was being treated.
    He was in a side ward on his own swathed in bandages. His eyes seemed to have a furtive look and kept darting from side to side restlessly. When he saw us and realised we had both come to visit him, tears rolled down his face. I leaned forward and kissed him. He caught hold of my hand.
    “The pub,” he whispered hoarsely. “Don’t say anything about the pub.” The broken fingers of his other hand moved in front of his lips and he made a hush. “Mum’s the word.”

    Later we wearily went home to Maida Vale and parked at the back of the building. We trudged round to the entrance with its impressive Art Deco facade and he opened the outer door for me. The trauma we had been through seemed to have forged a bond between us that earlier I would not have thought possible and I went in thinking how lucky I was to have him around. He had the sort of quiet bearing that made you feel he could be depended upon.
    Inside our apartment, I was just taking off my coat when the door bell rang. I was surprised to see our early morning visitor was back with another man.
    “Can we come in Miss? Some more information’s come to light that we need to discuss with you.”
    Behind me Jurgen muttered something quietly in German, but as I didn’t speak the language I had no idea what he said, although I got the impression he wasn’t happy. The four of us went into the kitchen, and sat down. The new man introduced himself.
    “I’m Detective Sergeant Sutherland and I’ve just seen the doctor’s report on your friend. I’d like your permission to search these premises,” he said.
    I stared at him in surprise. Why would he want to search the flat? Oh, no, I thought. Perhaps Aidan takes drugs. I never noticed anything but he wouldn’t be the first art student to indulge. God knows he had little enough in life. A bit like me, I thought. Jurgen took charge of the conversation. He was definitely a drug free zone but the same thought must have crossed his mind.
    “What are you looking for? We have nothing here.”
    “Then you won’t mind, will you? I’ll start with Mr Monahan’s room. Which one did you say?”
    “Down the passage, sir,” the thickset officer said, pointing.
    “If you are going to search my room, I’d better tidy it first,” I said, jumping up and thinking of my unmade bed. I immediately realised from the scornful look on the man’s face what an idiot remark it was. “Oh, perhaps not.”
    Defeated, I sat down again with Jurgen beside me. He placed his hand on my knee and patted, then squeezed it. The thickset policeman’s eyes took it all in.
    Aidan’s room was very small and the search was over in ten minutes. Whatever they were looking for did not seem to be there. I expected them to search ours as well but instead they both sat down again opposite us.
    “Now then, can you tell me what religion Mr Monahan practised,” the detective asked.
    Surprised, I said, “Well, I never saw him go to church. Sometimes on Sundays we went to Camden market. They have some fabulous stalls there. The last time we went, we each bought a hat.”
    He sighed. “Let me re-phrase the question. Do you know what religion he is? Church of England, for instance.”
    “Oh, no. He’s Irish. They are all