The Truth-Teller's Lie by Sophie Hannah Read Free Book Online

could go.’ Damn . Why had she said that?
    Simon ignored the comment. ‘What did you make of that window business?’ he asked. ‘Think she saw something?’
    ‘Oh, please! That was a load of utter shite. She was stressed and she lost it—simple as that.’
    Simon nodded. ‘She said Haworth likes to be in control of everything, but she seemed like the control freak to me. Insisting on telling the story chronologically, ordering us to go to Haworth’s house.’ He picked up the photograph of Naomi with Robert Haworth and studied it. There was a Burger King sign in the background, above a row of cars. ‘Looks like it was taken outside the Traveltel,’ he said.
    ‘Scenic.’
    ‘It’s a bit sad, isn’t it? He’s never been to her house and they’ve been together a year.’
    ‘Their relationship’s the real mystery in all of this,’ said Charlie. ‘What’s wrong with him that she doesn’t want her best friend to meet him?’
    ‘Maybe the friend’s the one she’s ashamed of,’ Simon suggested.
    ‘What could an arty sundial-maker with a designer handbag and a skint lorry driver possibly have in common?’
    ‘Physical attraction?’ Simon looked as if he didn’t want to dwell on this for too long.
    Charlie nearly said, ‘You mean sex?’ but she stopped herself in time. ‘He doesn’t look like a lorry driver, does he?’ She frowned. ‘How many lorry drivers do you know who wear collarless shirts and trendy square glasses?’
    ‘I don’t know any lorry drivers,’ said Simon rather glumly, as if it had just occurred to him that he might like to.
    ‘Well . . .’ Charlie slapped him on the back. ‘All that’s about to change. Send us a text once you’ve found him, won’t you? It’ll brighten up my holiday no end to find out he’s emigrated to Australia to avoid the Shadow-caster. On second thoughts, don’t. Last time I went on holiday Proust rang me at least once a day, the bastard. It can wait till I get back.’
    Charlie slung her bag over her shoulder and started to gather her things together. Everything to do with work could wait for a week. What couldn’t wait was the explanation Olivia had demanded. Charlie was going straight from the police station to meet her sister at the airport, and she’d have to do better than she had on the phone. Why did she feel the irresistible urge to reveal all to Olivia the moment she fucked up? Until she’d confessed, she felt panicky and out of control; it had been that way ever since they were teenagers. At least she’d succeeded in shocking Olivia into silence for three or four seconds; that hadn’t happened before. ‘I’ve no idea why I did it,’ she’d said, which was true.
    ‘Well, you’ve got three hours to think about it and reach a plausible conclusion,’ Olivia had retorted once she’d rediscovered her voice. ‘I’ll ask you again at Heathrow.’
    And whatever I say then to shut you up, I’ll still have no idea, thought Charlie.

3
    Tuesday, April 4
    THERE IS ONLY one person behind the bar at the Star Inn: a short, skinny man with a long face and a large nose. He whistles, polishing beer glasses with a frayed green towel. It is just after midday. Yvon and I are his first customers. He looks up and smiles at us. I notice that his teeth are long, like horses’ teeth, and there is a slight dip on either side of his head, above each ear, as if his face has been squeezed by a large pair of tweezers.
    Do you think that’s a fair description? You never describe things. I don’t think you want to inflict the way you see the world on other people, so you stick to simple nouns: lorry, house, pub. No, that’s wrong. I have never heard you use the word ‘pub’. You say ‘local’, which I suppose is a sort of description.
    I don’t know why I am so disappointed to find the Star empty apart from this peculiar-looking barman. It’s not as if I expected you to be here. If I had even the tiniest hope then I must have been deluding myself.