Chapter 108
And then there were three.
The quotation from Agatha Christie is going around and around in Olivia’s head. She is sitting at the table with Amir and Emil, poking at her food, goulash from a couple of cans that they heated up in a pan.
Not even Emil had the energy to cook after the latest events.
In a way Olivia is relieved that William isn’t here, but at the same time it feels surreal. The whole day has been like a bad dream.
Emil picks up his bowl and carries it over to the sink.
“I’m going to bed,” he says, and disappears down the stairs.
Olivia glances at Amir. They haven’t been alone in the same room since she hurled all those accusations at him during that terrible breakfast. It feels as if half a lifetime has passed since then.
She ought to apologize. Since the police came for William, it’s obvious who was who in the unpleasant conversation she happened to overhear. Amir must have been trying to persuade William to admit to the police what he’d done.
She swallows nervously. “Listen, I’m sorry for what I said to you the other day.”
Amir seems to have been lost in his own thoughts, because he gives such a start that some of his soup spills onto the table.
“What did you say?”
“I’m sorry for accusing you of being involved in Filippa’s death. I was wrong, I should never have said that to you.”
For the first time since this all began, Amir’s expression softens a little when he looks at Olivia. He gives her a look that is not full of distaste.
“It was horrible,” he says. “I couldn’t believe it when you went for me like that—and in front of everyone else.”
Olivia doesn’t know what she can say to fix things. She really does regret her outburst, but she has been shocked and confused ever since Filippa was found dead in the snow, she has had so many weird thoughts about different people.
“Why didn’t you stick up for yourself?” she asks eventually. “Why didn’t you just tell me I was wrong?”
“It’s not that simple . . .”
Amir looks away, and gradually Olivia begins to make sense of it all.
This is about William.
Of course.
“Because you knew what William had done to her,” she says slowly. “And you were trying to protect him.” It is a statement, not a question. “You knew all along that he was the one who had slept with Filippa.”
Her voice is stronger now. She hears her own words, but she still doesn’t get it. Why would her best friend have slept with Olivia’s boyfriend?
She reminds herself that Filippa was drunk and high. She probably didn’t even know what she was doing. Maybe she was so mad at Amir because he’d dumped her in the middle of the night that she tried to get back at him by having sex with William?
Olivia will never know the answer.
Amir interrupts her train of thought.
“It wasn’t just that,” he says in a toneless voice. “I saw them together in the snow too. Afterward.”
He wipes up the spilled soup with his paper napkin. Rubs away at the surface of the table as if he dare not look at Olivia.
She tries to understand, but she is too exhausted.
“What do you mean?” she says after a long silence. “Saw them doing what?”
Amir puts down the napkin, but continues to avoid making eye contact.
“I heard them having sex; you know how thin the walls are. Then later, during the night, I woke up when Filippa was leaving. She was arguing with William, and I heard her yell at him before she took off.”
He falls silent, swallows hard. Olivia is afraid of what is coming next.
“I couldn’t get back to sleep. For some reason I got up and went over to the window. My room faces the front, and . . .”
“And?” Olivia prompts him.
“And I saw Filippa lying there in the snow. William was kneeling beside her, I could see the back of his head, his dark hoodie.” Amir’s face crumples. “She was still there the next morning. Dead.”
Olivia reaches out and places her hand on his.
“You have to tell the police.”
“I can’t,” Amir whispers.
“We’ll call them. Right now. William is at the station being interviewed.”
“I can’t betray my best friend.” Amir lets out a strangled sob. “You can’t say anything to anyone. Promise!”
Olivia starts to shiver; her fingers are ice cold. The truth is worse than she could possibly have imagined. William is not only a liar and an asshole, he is a murderer too. He slept with Filippa even though he was Olivia’s boyfriend. More or less.
First he exploited Filippa; then he killed her.
Olivia has to swallow several times to stop herself from vomiting up the soup.
“You have to tell the police what you saw,” she says, trying to sound calm and convincing even though her head is all over the place.
“I can’t.”
“If you don’t tell them, I will.”
“No!”
Amir grabs Olivia by the shoulders, shakes her hard. She sees sheer desperation in his wide-open eyes.
“If you do that I’ll kill myself.”