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He ground out his cigarette on a loose playing card on the edge of the table and began hunting for more tobacco Strike, anted to oil the flow of conversation, offered him one of his own

“Oh, cheers Cheers Yeah Well, I got the driver to drop iven the police a full stateht say Then I wandered around a bit, and there’s cae in that station to prove that, and then about, I dunno…threeish? Fourish?”

“Half past four,” said Ciara

“Yeah, I went to crash at Ciara’s”

Duffield sucked on the cigarette, watching the tip burn, then, exhaling, said cheerfully:

“So my arse is covered, is it not?”

Strike did not find his satisfaction likeable

“And when did you find out that Lula was dead?”

Duffield drew his legs up to his chest again

“Ciara woke —yeah, well Fucking hell”

He put his ar

“I couldn’t fucking…I couldn’t believe it Couldn’t fucking believe it”

And as Strike watched, he thought he saw realization wash over Duffield that the girl of whom he spoke so flippantly, and who he had, by his own account, provoked, taunted and loved, was really and definitely never co back; that she had been smashed into pulp on snow-covered asphalt, and that she and their relationship were now beyond the possibility of repair For a , Duffield’s face becarin frorimace of pain, of the exertion necessary to beat back tears His arms slipped down, and he buried his face in them, his forehead on his knees

“Oh, sweetie,” said Ciara, putting her wine down on the table with a clunk, and reaching forward to place a hand on his bony knee

“This has fucked me up proper,” said Duffield thickly froood I wanted toloved her, I did Fuck, I don’t wanna talk about it anymore”

He ju his nose on his sleeve

“Didn’t I tell you?” Ciara whispered to Strike “He’s a mess”

“Oh, I don’t know He seems to have cleaned up his act Off heroin for a month”

“I know, and I don’t want hion”

“This is a lot gentler than he would have had from the police This is polite”

“You’ve got an awful look on your face, though Really, like, stern and as if you don’t believe a word he’s saying”

“D’you think he’s going to come back?”

“Yes, of course he is Please be a bit nicer…”

She sat quickly back in her seat as Duffield walked back in; he was gri himself into the chair he had previously occupied and said to Strike:

“I’s Can I have another one of yours?”

Reluctantly, because he was down to three, Strike handed it across, lit it for him, then said:

“All right to keep talking?”

“About Lula? You can talk, if you want I dunno what else I can tell you I ain’t got any more information”

“Why did you split up? The first time, I mean; I’m clear on why she ditched you in Uzi”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ciara esture; apparently this did not qualify as “nicer”

“What the fuck’s that got to do with anything?”

“It’s all relevant,” said Strike “It all gives a picture of as going on in her life It all helps explain why she ht’ve killed herself”

“I thought you were looking for a murderer?”

“I’ for the truth So why did you break up, the first time?”

“Fuck, how’s this fucking important?” exploded Duffield His temper, as Strike had expected, was violent and short-fused “What, are you trying toju up the first ti to do with it, knucklehead? That o fucking months before she died Fuck, I could call meself a detective and ask a lot of fuckass questions Bet it pays all right, dunnit, if you can find some fuckwit rich client?”

“Evan, don’t,” said Ciara, distressed “You said you wanted to help…”

“Yeah, I wanna help, but how’s this fucking fair?”

“No problem, if you don’t want to answer,” said Strike “You’re under no obligation here”

“I ain’t got nothing to hide, it’s just fucking personal stuff, innit? We split up,” he shouted, “because of drugs, and her fa down poison aboutpress, all right? Because of all the pressure”

And Duffieldclaws and pressed the movement

“Pressure, fucking pressure, that’s e split up”

“You were taking a lot of drugs at the time, were you?”

“Yeah”

“And Lula didn’t like it?”

“Well, people round her were telling her she didn’t like it, you know?”

“Like who?”

“Like her fa Guy Somé That little pansy twat”

“When you say that she didn’t trust anybody because of the press, what do you mean by that?”

“Fuck, innit obvious? Don’t you know all this, from your old man?”

“I know jack shit about my father,” said Strike coolly

“Well, they were tapping her fucking phone, ot any i stuff on her Trying to work out what she’d said on the phone, and what she hadn’t, and who iven stuff to the papers and that It fucked with her head”

“Was she accusing you of selling stories?”

“No,” snapped Duffield, and then, just as vehe here, how did they know I said that to you, yadda yadda yadda…I said to her, it’s all part and fucking parcel of faht she could have her cake and eat it”

“But you didn’t ever sell stories about her to the press?”

He heard Ciara’s hissing intake of breath

“No I fucking didn’t,” said Duffield quietly, holding Strike’s gaze without blinking “No I fucking did not All right?”

“And you split up for how long?”

“Two ive or take”

“But you got back together, what, a week before she died?”

“Yeah At Mo Innes’s party”

“And you had this coht hours later? At Carbury’s house in the Cotswolds?”

“Yeah”

“And who knew that was going to happen?”

“It was a spontaneous thing I bought the bangles and we just did it It was beautiful, man”

“It really was,” echoed Ciara sadly

“So, for the press to have found out so quickly, someone as there must have told them?”

“Yeah, I s’pose so”

“Because your phones weren’t being tapped then, were they? You’d changed your numbers”

“I don’t fucking know if they were being tapped Ask the shits at the rags who do it”

“Did she talk to you at all about trying to trace her father?”

“He was dead…what, you o, wannit? Her mother didn’t knoho he was”

“She never told you whether she’dabout him?”

“She tried, but she didn’t get anywhere, so she decided that she was gonna to do a course i

n African studies That was gonna be Daddy, the whole fucking continent of Africa Fucking So as usual”