D: The fourth bit

Tuesday was horrible. I had to wash my clothes first thing of
course, and that always puts me in a bad mood. Then just as I was
finishing off the doorbell went. I didn't want to answer it but I
thought I'd better in case it was that meddling Harriman again. It
wasn't Harriman though - it was even worse.

I opened the door to find a man standing there in the rain. He was
wearing a fedora and a dirty, faun-coloured raincoat, and his eyes were
narrow and ferrety. I didn't like the look of him at all.

"Mr Gunnarson?" His voice was nasal and penetrating. My opinion of him
slipped a notch further.

"Who wants to know?"

He held out a battered ID card. "Craig Straub. Evening Times. Perhaps
you've read my work?" He looked at me hopefully. I merely shook my head
and he deflated a little. Good.

"What do you want?" I wasn't in the mood to be polite.

"Oh? just a few questions regarding yesterday." He shook his head. "You
caused quite a scene Mr Gunnarson, screaming like that." He suddenly
changed tack and posted an expression of false concern on his weasely
countenance. "I do hope you are feeling better by the way..." His face
went back to normal. "Do you mind if I ask you some questions about
what happened - people are very interested you know, everybody is
talking about it."

My heart sank. The last thing I wanted was publicity. After all I'd
done to avoid been known, after everything I'd been through, it was all
being ruined by a bad dream. Straub was looking at me
expectantly.

"Do you mind if I ask you a few questions then?"

"No. As long as I don't have to answer them."
He looked confused for a moment. Then he grinned uncertainly and leant
forward to punch me playfully on the shoulder. "That's good! A sense of
humour!" He guffawed. "I like that."

I stood there silently. He looked around him and glanced up at the
rain laden sky.

"A bit wet out here isn't it?" He asked hopefully, peering past me
into the hallway.

"Yes it is," I agreed, making no move to show him in. "But it is
October after all so it's only to be expected." He looked
non-plussed.

"Ermm? Can I come in, perhaps?" He finally ventured. " It'll only take
a second."

"I don't think so. In fact I'd quite prefer it if you left."

"I'd quite prefer it if I didn't".

"Well then suit yourself, but I'm shutting the door?"

I headed off back down the hall unhappily. People were talking about
me, and that meant that soon there would be an outcry. Nasty, evil
teenagers spraying things on the door and breaking the windows. People
gathering in knots outside to gawp at the house. The supermarket
manager giving interviews about what type of bread I buy. It would be
another nightmare. I could still hear Straub calling to me through the
letter-box as I made myself a cup of tea. The man was starting to
irritate me. I sighed pensively. Bugger it. There was only one way I
was going to get rid of him. I opened the front door again, gleaning a
moment of satisfaction from his startled gasp of surprise, and smiled
ruefully.

"I guess I can spare you a few minutes." I muttered. "Come on
in."

It was still raining at 3pm when Harriman came round again. This time
I managed to get into the living room first so that he would have to
use the rickety chair. He didn't look happy.

"Well sir," He began. "How are you feeling today? No bad effects from
yesterday?"
I shook my head and assured him I was fine. He was silent for a moment.
He liked his silences did Harriman. Finally he shook his head
regretfully.

"I'm sorry sir, but we're going to have to have a serious talk."

I tried to look confused. "What about, Constable?"

He sighed in exasperation. "It's no use sir." He pleaded. "We KNOW.
We've been watching you."

My heart sank. He'd known all along of course, I hadn't fooled anyone.
The newsagents, the supermarkets, the police? they'd all known who I
was since the start. I looked up and for a moment I was lost once more
in his flinty eyes. I had a sudden urge to confess it all, to throw
myself upon his mercy and beg forgiveness. But I'd been through too
much, I'd sacrificed too much to do that. I had to give it one more
shot.
"I assure you that I have done nothing wrong, PC Harriman. I have
nothing to hide." I forced myself to face him without flinching,
although my stomach was flipping pancakes deep inside. We stared at
each other for an eternity.

"Tell me where you've put his body sir." He said finally. "It's for
the best, believe me."
It felt like I'd been punched in the stomach. My head span and I sagged
backwards in my chair. I couldn't say a word. He looked at me
compassionately.

"Please sir," He begged. "For the sake of the mother - tell me where
we can find him so that she can say goodbye."

I just stared at him. After all that, I thought, after all that. He
thinks I killed Marvin. ME! I felt a rush of outrage pour through me.
This beat-bobby, this hoof-patrol had the gall to think I'd murdered a
child! I started forward towards him, intent on wringing his neck, but
then forced myself to sit back down. If I hurt him then they WOULD find
out about me - they were bound too - and then I'd be done for. I
clasped my hands before me and when I spoke my voice trembled with
rage.

"I did NOT touch that child, Harriman!" I spat. "How DARE you accuse
me of such a thing!"

For a moment the man looked defiant but then something in his eyes
changed, and I saw that he believed me. He shrank before me like a
cactus in flames, until it seemed that there was a but a child in the
old wooden chair by the fireplace. Faced by that child my anger
disappeared. I felt myself fill up with relief that I hadn't been found
out. We sat there for a good five minutes in silence, just looking at
our shoes, before either of us spoke again.

"I'm sorry sir. I just?. I just had to try it." He looked up at me and
for a moment that spark was in his eyes again. "There's something not
quite right here - I know it - and I just had a hunch?. " He trailed
off again and I let him go gratefully. The man was still
dangerous.

Eventually he spoke again. "We haven't really been watching you Mr
Gunnarson." It was the first time he had ever used my name and I had to
force myself not to flinch in surprise. "I wanted to," He continued.
"But I'm just a Constable so no-one listens to me. They said I was just
being stupid. To tell you the truth?" He paused once more and looked up
at me. "To tell you the truth they don't even know I'm here. It's my
day off. I was just so convinced that you'd done it, so convinced that
you were guilty?"

I forced myself to keep my face impassive as I met his gaze. "I AM
guilty!" My mind screamed. "I AM guilty!"

"?I just thought I could trick you into confessing. But I guess not.
That look in your eyes when I accused you?it was pure outrage. I know
you didn't do it now. I'm sorry."

Harriman's tone had been that of a vanquished suitor, but now a bit of
his old spirit came back into it as he stared at me levelly. "But you
know sir? I still think you ARE guilty of something. I don't know what,
but there's something fishy here. I can sense it." The man was
definitely still dangerous. I decided on a gamble.

"I'll tell you what, Constable." I said. "How about if you forget that
I'm guilty of something, and I'll forget that you were here unlawfully,
how about that?" It was a risk, and I knew it. I could have just set
this man on to me for life.

We locked gazes for what would prove to be the final time that day. I
felt the sweat break out on my brow as I considered all the end-games
this could cause. Finally, he reached out his hand unsmilingly. I shook
it with a steady grip. He left without a word and I heard the door slam
behind him. He didn't even break step as he passed the window, and I
bolted for the bathroom to be sick.