“I’m sorry for what I said,” he told me, his expression soft as his eyes roamed over my face. “I was cross with you and frustrated, but you have to know I didn’t mean it.”
“Harry I–”
“In my defence youhaddumped me, but I know you didn’t mean that either.”
“Harry, Ididmean it,” I said weakly, but, damn it, I still didn’t seem to be able to make myself pull away from him.
“We’ll talk about it later,” he said, and his arms gave me a squeeze before he kissed my forehead then reached up to tuck some of my hair behind my ear. “Now, you look like you’re going to pass out any moment. How long since you slept?”
“I don’t know,” I muttered, “maybe twenty-four hours?”
He made a low noise of disapproval but before he could say anything there was a voice from the doorway.
“Ms Markham.” The police officer in charge, Detective Matisse, finally emerged from the house and strode over to us across the driveway. Harry let me go so I could face the detective but kept his arm around me. “And who are you?” Detective Matisse asked, frowning at Harry’s arm around my shoulders. “Guy!” he shouted across at the guard then continued in French. “Didn’t I tell you to secure the area? Does this look secure to you, shithead?”
“He charged in here a second ago,” poor Guy replied, also in French. “What did you want me to do? Shoot him?”
“Oui,” Detective Matisse clipped, before turning his attention back to me and Harry. The local police had made it abundantly clear that they didnotlike me for a number of very good reasons, and I was sure that Detective Matisse was not keen for me to have any allies on hand. I felt an unnerving mixture of huge gratitude at Harry being here and panic about all he was going to find out. At least he didn’t speak French.
“If you’re finished arguing over whether someone should have shot me or not,” Harry said in perfect French (I gritted my teeth in frustration – bloody private school), “Ms Markham is dead on her feet, dehydrated and about to faint from heat stroke. She’s not going to be standing out here much longer. And for your information, I’m Harry York, Ms Markham’s boyfriend.”
“Fine,” Detective Matisse clipped, giving Harry a filthy look which he then transferred to me. By this stage I was well used to them. “Did you know what this house was being used for, Ms Markham?”
I sighed. I’d been over this with him and his colleagues, repeatedly. “I had no idea it was in useat all,” I replied in French. “My father died two years ago, and we hadn’t got around to sorting out the sale of this property. I haven’t evenbeenhere in over ten years.”
“We’ve had complaints about the noise for months from local residents. Loud music, all night parties, streams of drunk people wandering in and out of the property. And, worst of all, drugs have been distributed here. Here, in this neighbourhood! Last week a teenager wandered onto the road and was hit by a car. He was high as a kite from drugsyour mothersold him.”
“Is the boy okay?” asked Harry in a horrified voice.
“His leg is broken. He needed an operation to fix it. He won’t be out of hospital for weeks. Do you know, Ms Markham, why I took a job here?”
“No.”
“I wanted a nice job in a quiet neighbourhood. Never liked inner city work and the hassle that came with it.”
“Right, but–”
“Has my life been nice and quiet for the last six months? No, it has not. It’s been filled with entitled English idiots thinking they can treat this neighbourhood and my country like total shit and sell drugs to our young people in the process. And what happened when I came to ask them to stop dealing drugs and stop keeping their neighbours up all night? This woman starts swearing at me and calling me a ‘cheese-eating-surrender-monkey’ and saying ‘Bugger off, Napoleon’. If I had had enough evidence I would have arrested her there and then.”
I sighed. Felicity always did have a particular talent for pissing people off. “Yes, okay. I think I can say it’s likely that was my mother, but, as I’ve been telling you, we areestranged. I didn’t know what was going on out here. I had no idea she had access to the property. Neither did our family’s solicitor who will confirm my version of events.”
“The quantity of cocaine in that property is enough to charge someone with possession with the intent to distribute, Ms Markham. Therefore, as the owner of the property you need to–”
“How long has Ms Markham been detained here and under what authority?” Harry put in.
“What authority? I’m the chief of police.”
“That does not answer my question.”
“I’ve been here since eight, Harry,” I muttered in English and leaned more heavily into him.
“Five hours?” Harry snapped, then continued in French to Detective Matisse. “Can’t you see she’s down about to pass out with heatstroke?”
“This is very serious business,” Detective Matisse spluttered. “Her mother…”
“Yes, hermother, not her. None of this is down to her. You’re punishing the wrong person and leaving a fair-skinned English woman out in the sun with no hydration for hours. We’re going.”
“You can’t leave!” Detective Matisse said, but Harry was already turning us and propelling me towards the gate.
