Chapter 52
I stare at Detective Lieutenant Demetriou in horror.
‘How d’you know about that?’
‘We have three independent accounts of your boyfriend punching Mr Pearson. When questioned, he admitted he lost his temper because Mr Pearson sexually assaulted you. Is it true?’
I stare at my feet. ‘Yes.’
His voice is gentle again. ‘I know this is probably distressing for you, but can you describe the assault?’
‘Why?’ I cry. ‘How is it relevant to your investigation? It had nothing to do with Felix’s death!’
‘It is my job to build a picture of the night in question,’ he says calmly. ‘And to build an accurate picture, I need to know everything. Every little detail that you or your friends might think unimportant. So, with respect, I ask you again: please describe what happened.’
‘He… he followed me into the toilets. He tried it on. When I told him I wasn’t interested, he called me a prick-tease.
Then he kissed and groped me.’ My arms have broken out into goosebumps at the memory.
‘That’s when Dominic walked in. When he saw what was happening he pulled Felix off me and, well, you know the rest.’
‘How much had you had to drink?’
I glare at him. ‘Are you victim shaming me?’
‘I don’t mean to, Miss Miller. I just need to know how clear your memory is.’
I exhale slowly, remembering how the room had swum when I’d sat down on the toilet seat. ‘I suppose I was a bit tipsy.’ I wince. It sounds like something Victoria would say. ‘But that’s only because Felix was topping my glass up all night.’
‘Are you saying he was trying to get you drunk on purpose?’
I meet his eye. ‘Looking back on it, I think he was.’
He consults his notebook again. ‘This is not the first time you have made an allegation of sexual assault against someone, am I right?’
My stomach twists. ‘Who told you that?’
‘Mr Brookes.’
I stare at him open-mouthed. ‘But Dominic doesn’t even know about that.’
‘Is he wrong in saying you reported your superior at work for initiating unwanted sexual contact and that the man in question was suspended pending the outcome of an investigation?’
My mind races. I thought just four people knew what happened that day. Me, Rob, Sandra Cooper and Nessa. Was it possible a worried Nessa told Dom about the assault out of concern?
‘No.’ I bite my lip. ‘But what the hell does that have to do with this?’ My shock is morphing into a white-hot anger, fuelled by Dominic’s treachery. How dare he tell Demetriou about Rob Harvey’s assault, and how dare the Greek detective use it as evidence against me?
‘As I said, I’m just trying to build a picture,’ he says smoothly, and that’s when I realise that beneath the affable exterior, Demetriou is a piranha waiting to strike. ‘Has the investigation reached its conclusion?’
I think of the unread email sitting in my inbox.
‘You tell me,’ I snap. ‘You seem to know everything else.’ The anger pulsates through me, out of control, and before I can consider the consequences, I say, ‘Did Dominic tell you we had a fight that night, too?’
His ears prick and for a second I wish I could take the words back, but it’s too late now. ‘When I say a fight, I mean an argument,’ I qualify.
‘About what?’
‘Does it matter?’ I see his expression and sigh. ‘I accused him of still having feelings for Simone. Anyway, he went back to the villa and I… I spent the night on the beach.’ A wave of shame rolls over me.
‘Alone?’ he asks.
I nod. ‘When I went back to the villa the next morning the others had already left for Thalassia. All except Willow.’
‘And you and Miss Pearson both assumed Mr Pearson had gone with them?’ the detective says.
‘Correct.’
‘So, contrary to what you led me to believe, you cannot offer Mr Brookes an alibi for the night Mr Pearson was killed.’
‘I can’t,’ I say tonelessly, because the flipside is, Dominic can’t offer me one either.
A knock at the door signals the arrival of another police officer who beckons the detective over.
‘Please excuse me for a moment,’ Demetriou says, giving a small bow. There is a rapid exchange in Greek. When he steps back into the room his whole demeanour has changed and an icy sensation slides down my spine, vertebra by vertebra.
He produces a plastic evidence bag and slides it across the desk to me.
‘Our crime scene investigators have found this close to where Mr Pearson’s body was discovered. Do you recognise it?’
I peer at the bag, not sure at first what I’m supposed to be looking at.
Then I see it. A thin silver chain leading to a pendant the colour of liquid honey.
My amber necklace. The one I thought I’d lost. Not lost at all, but lying feet away from a murder victim.
The same victim who, hours before he was killed, sexually assaulted me. My blood turns to ice.
‘Well?’ Demetriou says grimly. ‘Is this, or is this not, your necklace, Miss Miller?’