Read The Song Never Dies for Free Online Page B

Sarah. “Guess you get your crime scene after all.”
    *
    In the darkness, Sarah watched Gail press a button at the side of the pool. She heard an engine whirring up in the roof of the pool house. First shutters then the whole glass roof slid back to let in the light.
    “Was that open on the night of the party?” she asked Gail.
    “No. We had the staff fill the place with candles. Cushions round the side. It was supposed to be another chill-out area.”
    “Did you come down here at all?” said Jack.
    “No.”
    Again — the quick answer. Quick because it was a lie?
    But why lie?
    “What about other people?’ said Jack. “Pools at parties tend to be popular …”
    Sarah watched him walk around the pool, carefully stepping over police tape that still marked out different sections of the building.
    “Apparently not ours,” said Gail. “Everyone was busy drinking and arguing. Alex wasn’t found until seven the next morning.”
    “Doesn’t mean nobody came down here,” said Jack. “I mean — they just might not have seen him.”
    Sarah saw Gail flinch at the thought. Although she seemed largely unmoved by her husband’s death, maybe she was just very good at hiding her emotions?
    “But, as far as you know, nobody saw him come down here?” said Sarah. “And nobody saw anyone in the pool?”
    “So I’m told,” said Gail. “The police interviewed everybody, took statements. And that is what they told me.”
    Sarah watched Jack crouch down and touch the water.
    “Pretty cool,” he said. “Is it normally this temperature?”
    “Alex liked it that way.”
    “He swim laps?”
    “Every morning,” said Gail. “Bit of a fanatic.”
    “So he was a strong swimmer?” said Sarah.
    “Very strong.”
    “Even when he’d had a drink?” said Jack.
    “I never saw him go in the water — anywhere — sea or pool — after a drink. And he never just had one drink.”
    “Or after anything else?”
    Gail hesitated at that. “Never under the influence. Of anything.”
    For the first time, Sarah thought: maybe she doesn’t buy the accidental death either.
    She saw Jack open a door on the far side of the pool and disappear into darkness.
    “Sauna and steam room,” said Gail.
    Then her phone rang, the sound shrill, jarring. “Excuse me.”
    Sarah watched her open the pool house door and step outside to take the call.
    She walked round the pool and joined Jack. He was on his knees in the middle of the sauna, pointing the light from his mobile phone under the wooden slatted bench.
    “Never, ever, trust the cops, even the good ones, to find all the evidence,” he said, shuffling backwards from under the bench then getting to his feet.
    On his right hand he had a surgical glove. And in between his fingers he held a cigarette end.
    Or rather, as Sarah realised when she got closer, the tail end of a joint.
    “Not one of Alex’s, I suspect,” said Jack.
    And as he held it up — Sarah could see why: the tip was pink with lipstick.
    “Maybe Gail?” said Sarah. “But I don’t take her for a pot smoker — or a liar. At least so far …”
    “Got a bag?” said Jack.
    Sarah opened her handbag and took the little roll of sandwich bags she now carried everywhere.
    Bought for school lunch packing. But perfect for evidence.
    Jack dropped the joint into the bag and she zipped it shut. Then he took off the glove and slipped it into his jacket pocket.
    “Doubt we can use it for evidence,” said Jack. “But it just might make somebody talk at the right time …”
    “Find anything?” said Gail, coming back into the pool house.
    “Don’t think so,” said Jack. “Guess we should get out of your hair.”
    “You’ve been very helpful,” said Sarah. “Thank you.”
    She saw Gail scrutinise them both — as if she might suspect they were hiding something.
    “On the contrary,” she said. “It’s me who should be thanking you. It’s strange. You’ve made me think about all this in a different way. Will you