Twenties Girl by Sophie Kinsella Read Free Book Online Page B

said I’d been to my friend Linda’s before visiting the pub. I don’t even
have
a friend called Linda; I just didn’t want to mention any of my real friends. She wanted Linda’s surname, and I blurted out “Davies” before I could stop myself.
    Of course, I’d read it off the top of the form. She was DC Davies.
    At least I didn’t say “Keyser Söze.”
    To her credit, the policewoman didn’t flicker. Nor did she say whether they would proceed with the case. She just thanked me politely and found me the number of a cab firm.
    I’ll probably go to jail now. Great. All I need.
    I glower at Sadie, who’s lying full length on the desk, staring up at the ceiling. It really didn’t help having her in my ear the whole time, constantly correcting me and adding suggestions and reminiscing about the time two policemen tried to stop her and Bunty “racing their motors over the fields” and couldn’t catch up with them; it was “
too
funny.”
    “You’re welcome,” I say. “Again.”
    “Thank you.” Sadie’s voice drifts idly over.
    “Right, well.” I pick up my bag. “I’m off.”
    In one quick movement, Sadie sits up. “You won’t forget my necklace, will you?”
    “I doubt I will, my entire life.” I roll my eyes. “However hard I try.”
    Suddenly she’s in front of me, blocking my way to the door. “No one can see me except you. No one else can help me. Please.”
    “Look, you can’t just say, ‘Find my necklace!’” I exclaim in exasperation. “I don’t know anything about it, I don’t know what it looks like. …”
    “It’s made of glass beads with rhinestones,” she says eagerly. “It falls to here….” She gestures at her waist. “The clasp is inlaid mother-of-pearl—”
    “Right.” I cut her off. “Well, I haven’t seen it. If it turns up, I’ll let you know.”
    I swing past her, push the door open into the police-station foyer, and take out my phone. The foyer is brightly lit, with a grubby linoleum floor and a desk, which right now is empty. Two huge guys in hoodies are having a loud argument while a policeman is trying to calm them down, and I back away to what looks like a safe corner. I get out the minicab firm number DC Davies gave me and start keying it into my phone. I can see there are about twenty voice messages on there, but I ignore them all. It’ll just be Mum and Dad, stressing away….
    “Hey!” A voice interrupts me and I pause midway through. “Lara? Is that you?”
    A guy with sandy hair in a polo neck and jeans is waving at me. “It’s me! Mark Phillipson? Sixth-form college?”
    “Mark!” I exclaim, suddenly recognizing him. “Oh my God! How are you doing?”
    The only thing I remember about Mark is him playing bass guitar in the college band.
    “I’m fine! Great.” He comes across with a concerned expression. “What are you doing at the police station? Is everything OK?”
    “Oh! Yes, I’m fine. I’m just here for a … you know.” I wave it off. “Murder thing.”
    “Murder?”
He looks staggered.
    “Yeah. But it’s no big deal. I mean, obviously it
is
a big deal. …” I correct myself hastily at his expression. “I’d better not say too much about it. … Anyway, how are you doing?”
    “Great! Married to Anna, remember her?” He flashes a silver wedding ring. “Trying to make it as a painter. I do this stuff on the side.”
    “You’re a policeman?” I say disbelievingly, and he laughs.
    “Police artist. People describe the villains, I draw them; it pays the rent. … So how about you, Lara? Are you married? With somebody?”
    For a moment I just stare back with a rictus smile.
    “I was with this guy for a while,” I say at last. “It didn’t work out. But I’m fine about it now. I’m in a really good place, actually.”
    I’ve clenched my plastic cup so hard, it’s cracked. Mark looks a bit disconcerted.
    “Well… see you, Lara.” He lifts a hand. “Will you be OK getting home?”
    “I’m calling a