Page 30 of A Face in the Crowd
The officers glance to my door and then turn to me.
‘It’d be a bit more private,’ Karen adds. ‘The boys will be okay for a couple of minutes.’
There isn’t actually a moment in which I agree to this, but there’s an inevitability to it. I can hardly tell the police that they’re not welcome.
As Karen nips back inside to tell Tyler and Quinn she has to head out, Billy follows me to the apartment, while having a good sniff of the officers to make sure they’re up to his high standards. They both crouch to show him some attention as I unlock my door and head inside. I leave them in the hall, telling them I need a moment to clean up and then I hastily make sure the envelope of money is still in the drawer underneath the television. I think about moving it, perhaps hiding it under my mattress again, but it will take too long. I have to tell myself that they don’t know I have it and this is not why they’re here. Then I remember the money that Karen had. It’s all a confusing mess.
It’s not long before Karen, myself and both officers are crammed onto the sofa and single chair. Much of the furniture was left by the previous tenant, which was a good thing, considering I’m not sure how I would have been able to afford my own. Billy is pacing, unhappy at having such a full apartment and strangers in his space. Constable Grant offers him her hand, but he ignores it and trots over to the corner instead.
‘I do have that effect on men,’ Grant jokes, though nobody laughs.
Beaman is flipping through his notepad. ‘I know somebody spoke to you when Ms Johansson first disappeared,’ he says, ‘but I’d like to ask if you know of any reason that someone might have harmed her.’
Karen and I look to one another blankly and I can’t help but wonder if this is how police do things. On television, it’s all metal walls, bolted-down tables and two-way mirrors. After Ben died, someone knocked on the door of the house, even though I’d already heard about the crash on the news. The officer asked a few basic questions, but that was more or less it. I’ve not had much contact with the police in my life.
‘I can’t think of anyone,’ Karen says.
I shake my head. ‘I don’t remember ever seeing her with anyone,’ I say. ‘I’d catch her on the way out or back quite often. She’d be off to class, or the gym, something like that – but always by herself.’
‘Were you friends?’
‘Not as such,’ I say. ‘We would always say hello, but that’s about it. We didn’t spend any time together.’
Karen confirms the same, but we seem only to be ratifying what the officers expected.
Beaman finishes whatever he’s writing and then looks up. ‘Are there ever any problems in the building?’
‘Like what?’ I ask.
‘Trouble with any other tenants? People coming and going? I’m not sure.’
‘It’s a bit noisy sometimes,’ Karen says. ‘Music through the floors, that sort of thing. That’s about it, though. Normal things.’
‘What’s it like to live here?’ he presses.
‘It’s cheap,’ Karen replies. ‘Nobody’s going out of their way to live here otherwise.’
The officers nod along and I have little to add.
‘Did Ms Johansson ever talk to either of you about money?’ he asks. ‘Or any other kind of problem she might have found herself in?’
Karen and I each shake our heads, but I catch myself glancing off towards the drawer underneath the television at the very mention of money. It’s a protective reflex.
He turns to me. ‘How long have you lived here, Miss Denman?’
‘Four years.’ I fire back the answer immediately, the number burned into me. It somehow feels like a long time and no time. If I close my eyes, it was yesterday that I was wandering into the flat with barely a bag to my name. I scrubbed the sealant around the window because it had gone a browny-black with age and neglect. There was a bang from the street overnight and I jumped up, panicking, even though it was only a bin being knocked over.
So much of my life wasted in this little space.
If there’s an edge to my tone, then Beaman doesn’t mention it. He turns to Karen: ‘And you?’
‘Almost two years,’ she replies.
The officers check a couple of other things, largely to do with timings and when we last saw Jade. When we’re done, they leave a business card each, thank us for our time, say goodbye to Billy – who is still avoiding them – and then continue along the corridor to knock on Nick’s door.
After seeing them out, I turn to see Karen still on my sofa. She’s blank and staring aimlessly towards me. ‘Makes you think, doesn’t it?’ she says airily.
I’m not sure what to say, so offer a consolatory shrug instead.
