The Dead Lie Down Read Online Free PDF Page B

did he kill another person called or known by the name of Mary Trelease? And lastly, question number three: did he kill or injure anyone? Is there a body somewhere, waiting to be found? Not that it’ll still be a body by now, if the killing happened years ago.’
    ‘Aidan couldn’t hurt anybody. I know him.’
    She puffs her cheeks full of air, then blows it out in one breath. ‘If you’re right, you should be consulting a shrink, not me.’
    I shake my head. ‘He’s sane. I can tell from the way he reacts to other things, normal things. That’s why this makes no sense.’ It occurs to me that perhaps Sergeant Zailer asked me all those pointless questions about my job and my rent for the same reason: to test my reaction to ordinary enquiries. ‘Have you heard of the Cotard delusion?’ I ask her.
    ‘No. I’ve heard of The God Delusion .’
    ‘It’s a mental illness, or a symptom of mental illness, usually associated with despair and an extreme lack of self-esteem. It’s where you believe you’re dead even though you’re not.’
    She grins. ‘If I had that, I’d worry less about smoking fifteen fags a day.’
    I’m not interested in her jokes. ‘As far as I know—and I’ve looked into it—there’s no mutation of that syndrome, and no other syndrome that I could find, where sufferers believe they’ve killed people who are still living. I ruled out psychological explanations a while ago. I don’t think Aidan’s committed any violent crime. I know he hasn’t, and wouldn’t, but . . . I’m worried something’s going to happen, something really bad.’ I didn’t know I was going to say this until the words are out. ‘I’m frightened, but I don’t know what of.’
    Charlie Zailer looks at me for a long time. Eventually she says, ‘What has Aidan told you about the details of what he did? What he says he did. When, why and where did he kill Mary Trelease, by his own account?’
    ‘I’ve already told you everything he told me: that he killed her, years ago.’
    ‘How many years?’
    ‘He didn’t say.’
    ‘How, why and where did he kill her?’
    ‘He didn’t tell me.’
    ‘What was their relationship? When and how did they first meet?’
    ‘I told you already, I don’t know!’
    ‘I thought Aidan wanted to confide in you. Did he change his mind halfway through? Ruth? What did he say, when you asked him for more details?’
    ‘I didn’t.’
    ‘You didn’t ? Why not?’
    ‘I . . . I did ask him one question. I asked him if it was an accident. ’ I can’t bear the memory. The way he looked at me, as if I’d stamped on his heart. No questions. He stuck to the deal we made; I broke it.
    ‘Right,’ says Sergeant Zailer. ‘Because you couldn’t believe he’d harm anyone deliberately. What did he say?’
    ‘Nothing. He just stared at me.’
    ‘And you didn’t ask him any more questions?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Frankly, I find that impossible to believe. Anyone would ask. Why didn’t you?’
    ‘Are you going to help me or not?’ I say, mustering what’s left of my hope and energy.
    ‘How can I, when you’re withholding at least half the information you know is relevant, assuming you’re not making all this up. A strange way to behave if you want my help.’ She straightens up in her chair. ‘Aidan made this confession to you on the thirteenth of December last year. Why did you wait until now, two and a half months later, before coming in?’
    ‘I hoped I’d be able to make him see sense,’ I say, knowing how feeble it sounds in spite of being true.
    ‘I see conspiracies everywhere, that’s my trouble,’ says Sergeant Zailer. ‘What I don’t know is, who’s on the receiving end of this one: you? Me? One colossal piss-take—that’s what this sounds like to me.’
    I feel as if I might pass out. There’s a sharp pain between my shoulder-blades. I picture myself pressing a big red button: stop . I imagine my finger holding the button down—it’s supposed to make the bad