Chapter 31

The siren continues to scream in my ears, and then it suddenly stops. This is it. They're coming in to arrest Zelda. I can almost hear the rustle of their uniforms, the cackle of their walkie talkies as they make their way along the uneven garden path.

‘I am so sorry, Linda,' Zelda cries, eyes wild. ‘I'll tell them you had absolutely no knowledge of this. I promise. I'll say…'

Linda takes a hold of Zelda by the shoulders firmly and starts giving her another pep talk while I look on, legs like lead. ‘Look, there's every chance that you'll…' Linda's voice fades into white noise. In my peripheral, I see the police car moving.

‘Shhh…' I hold a hand up to silence them. ‘Listen.' There's a low rumble of a helicopter and then the sudden flare of a siren again, distant this time. ‘Look,' I cry, pointing at the road ahead. ‘No flashing lights. They must've been passing through,' I enthuse. ‘Used this road as a shortcut.'

We all exhale sharply, as if we've been holding our breath under water in some kind of sardonic fitness contest. Linda presses a hand against the garage door and holds her chest. Zelda squats on the step of the back gate, face in hands, shoulders shaking. I look up at the ink sky, silently thanking the universe.

‘I thought I was going to have a heart attack,' Linda gasps.

Daisy's muffled voice filters from my handset, which I'm holding against my shoulder. I forgot she was there. I unmute her.

‘Sorry, Daisy, couldn't hear you,' I lie, heart belting. ‘Can you repeat that, please?'

‘Christ above. I'm not surprised,' Daisy says. ‘Those sirens were deafening. Three cop cars just rocked up. They couldn't get past the narrow street. Someone had double parked. A taxi, I think, on an airport run. Two people came out of a house a few doors away with suitcases.' So that's why they stopped outside Zelda's. I was wondering why they needed a helicopter and several police cars to arrest an unarmed woman on suspicion of assault. ‘Look, I'm just getting out of the car. Can you hear me now?'

‘Yes, you're much clearer now, Daisy.'

‘Great. So, did Frank drive here, then?'

‘Um…not sure. Hold on. Zelda, was Frank's car outside?'

Zelda shakes her head, wiping her teary face with her hands. ‘I picked him up,' she says, voice nasal from crying. ‘He was going to stay the weekend and didn't want to lose the space outside his flat.'

‘He's on foot, Daisy.' I cover the mouthpiece and tell the girls to get inside. ‘I'll be out in a…'

‘Have you tried calling him?' Daisy interjects as I follow Linda into the flat, Zelda close behind me, and I get the feeling Daisy's not up for this. And who could blame her? She didn't sign up to be my dodgy midnight chauffeur. She's only my temp. A surge of guilt skims through me. I should tell her to forget it, to go home and get some rest. But I can't. The need to help my sister is bullying its way through every ounce of reasoning I have.

‘That's a good idea, Daisy. We'll try that first. I'll ring you back, save you waiting.' Daisy agrees, and I end the call, tell Zelda to ring Frank, something we should've done straightaway. Frank's phone goes straight to voicemail and I tell her to hang up.

‘Okay, this is what we're going to do.' I pause, lick my dry lips. ‘If Frank reports it, we'll tell them what really happened. Well, a diluted version. Frank attacked you in a jealous rage. He was going to kill you and you had to find a way to fight back.' I slide my thumb over the corner of Zelda's red silicone phone case in my hand, gazing at my haggard face in the mirror while an insane plan starts taking shape in my mind. ‘You grabbed your mobile phone.' I hold it up as an exhibit. ‘And lamped him on the face with it.' Zelda swallows, shakes her head. Linda looks shellshocked. ‘The impact of the blow shook him up, he let go, and then he fled.' I turn to Linda. ‘Why don't you go home love, we can say that I came here alone. I don't want you involved in this.'

‘Yes,' Zelda agrees. ‘You've done enough for me already.'

‘No way.' Linda shakes her head. ‘I'm staying put.'

‘No, Linda, please,' I insist. ‘I know you want to help but this is too risky, too dangerous.'

‘It's not up for discussion, Bella.'

My eyes fill with gratitude. Zelda mouths thank you at her. I turn back to Zelda, sniffing back a tear. ‘Right, the moment he left, you called me, distraught, frightened he'd come back.' I look at Linda. ‘I called you, asked you to meet me at Zelda's. I wanted as much backup as possible. Frank's a strong man, remember.' Linda nods. ‘He was never on the lawn unconscious. Okay? Never.'

‘What about his wound?' Zelda cries.

‘You've no idea how that happened.'

Zelda shifts from foot to foot, as if she's marching on the spot. ‘But I'm not very good at lying. What if I mess up and they catch me out?'

‘She's right,' Linda pipes up. ‘It'll be false evidence. Will Zelda withstand a police grilling?'

‘You won't mess up.' I curl a stand of hair behind my sister's ear tenderly. ‘We'll back you all the way.

‘Okay,' Zelda nods furiously, sniffs. ‘Thank you. You two are the best.'

Linda sighs, tone hesitant. ‘Frank's injury is going to be a problem. Will they really believe she had no knowledge of it? The police aren't stupid.'

‘Frank was off of his head on cocaine and alcohol, got into a fight once he left. He's obviously a user, mixes with the wrong crowd of people. It'll be his word against Zelda's.'

‘They'll still do forensics on this place,' Linda warns. ‘A sniffer dog will pick up Frank's scent on the lawn, even a droplet of blood on a blade of grass is enough.'

‘So what? He was her boyfriend. Accidents happen all the time – he cut his hand gardening or barbequing.'

‘What about the letter opener? The dagger might still have traces of his blood on it. It gets into all the nooks and crannies. I remember a case study I read about once where they found dried blood on the knife that was used to murder someone, even after it'd been washed. That's how they caught the assailant.' Linda rubs her lips. ‘It's too risky. She's tampered with evidence. No doubt, Frank will deny attacking her. He'll probably try to frame her; say she lost her mind and stabbed him in a jealous rage after finding out he'd tried it on with you.'

‘Oh, God, Bella.' Zelda starts breathing heavily. I think she's hyperventilating. ‘Linda's right.'

‘We'll get rid of the letter knife,' I blurt, without thinking. ‘They can't do her for attempted murder if there's no weapon. Where is it, Zelda?'

‘I put it back on the microwave.' I tell her to go and fetch it and she dashes off to the kitchen, while Linda goes off on one – what do I think I'm doing, we're in too deep, what if Frank dies and the police want to search our houses too, do I want them all to rot in prison?

‘Here.' Zelda holds the weapon out to me with both hands, while Linda continues to whine in the background.

‘Linda's got a point, Bella. Helping me is one thing but lying to the police...'

‘We can't just dump it,' Linda points out. ‘What if someone finds it?'

‘They won't. I'll make sure it disappears.'

‘So, you're a magician now, are you?' I don't answer.

‘What about the lawn?' Zelda cries. ‘What if there was a lot of blood? What if they check it? Maybe I should just take my chances – tell them the truth.'

‘Google how to get rid of blood on grass, Linda.'

Muttering to herself, Linda starts jabbing at the screen of her phone. ‘Dilute bleach with water and pour over the area, or burn it.'

‘We'll mop the floor tonight, clean the entire kitchen, including all appliances. We'll dig up the lawn and burn it, then returf it in the morning. I've got turf in my garage. We were going to replace a dry patch that went brown and crispy.'

‘Burn and returf the lawn in front of the entire neighbourhood in broad daylight?' Linda says, astonished. ‘Have you completely lost the plot?' Actually, right now, I think I might've.

‘Just bleach it then,' I reply briskly. ‘I'll get rid of this.' I pat my pocket, feeling the long blade of the letter knife. ‘Okay?'

‘But, Bella,' Linda cries. ‘It's illegal.'

‘Okay?' I yell, ignoring Linda.

‘What's going on?' We all turn towards the voice, like deer in headlights. ‘Get rid of what?'