Forget Me Never

belonged to Julie – I knew she had it, because I’d used it for a school project about transcribing conversations.
    This is a classic scenario for a good reason, I thought. I’d seen it on television over and over again – amateur sleuths confronting criminals who slipped up and got caught on tape. There was absolutely no reason it shouldn’t work, providing I was bold enough.
    And then the lift doors pinged and Cherie stepped out.
    For a moment I was paralysed by a mixture of fear and violent dislike. But then I came to life, jumping out from behind the bins.
    ‘Cherie!’
    She turned around. She looked impeccable, even after what must have been a long day. Perhaps she’d popped out at lunch – she was holding a couple of Monsoon carrier bags. Yet again she was wearing shoes the same red as her hair; she looked slightly unreal, like a Cluedo character or something. For a second I hesitated, my finger fluttering over the Dictaphone. Seeing her here, so cool and composed, made me doubt. Could she really have pushed my cousin off that balcony? Surely even she couldn’t be so ruthless . . . And then I found I didn’t care, because this was my moment, and I might not get the chance again. I pressed downwards and felt the tape whirr.
    Cherie was just looking at me. The last thing I wanted was to get near to her, but I knew I had to if I wanted a decent recording.
    ‘I want the truth about my cousin,’ I said shakily. ‘I know you were there the weekend she died.’
    She raised an eyebrow, an unimpressed expression on her face; I wondered if she had looked at Dani that way too. ‘How long have you been hanging around here?’
    ‘I know you were there.’
    ‘Go home, Sophie.’ And Cherie started walking towards a black Polo parked a few metres away. I started after her.
    ‘I need to talk! I know you killed her!’
    Shit, this wasn’t going right. Somehow she’d got me flustered, and I had no idea how to save the situation. Cherie ignored me. She pointed her keys at the car and the doors unlocked with a click, backlights flashing in welcome. Cherie opened the boot and began lifting the carrier bags in – and then things unfolded very quickly.
    A car shot out of a parking space at the other end of the car park. Its wheels screeched as it zoomed towards us. Cherie glanced up. The car swerved towards Cherie. She started to move, and then there was a scream and a sickening thud and a flutter of red. I flung up my arms to shield myself, unsure what was happening for a few seconds, until I realized that the car was speeding towards the exit and there was a crumpled body lying on the ground.
    I stared, transfixed. Cherie was lying on her front and she wasn’t moving. I could see what looked like a pool of blood. Her legs were twisted at an unnatural angle; they had to be broken. And as for the rest of her . . .
    There was a bleep behind me. A second later someone said, ‘Oh my God!’ A man and a woman ran out of the lift and knelt by Cherie, both crying out in horror.
    ‘Phone an ambulance!’ the man shouted. The woman dug into her bag and suddenly I found I was moving, running towards the exit, desperate to get away. This wasn’t real, it couldn’t be. One moment she’d been giving me the brush-off – the next, tumbling over the bonnet . . .
    And underneath all the horror, I had the cold, terrible realization that I might have just witnessed a murder.

REECE
    I was sprawled on the sofa with Mum, watching The King’s Speech , when the doorbell shrilled. Mum pressed pause on the DVD, looking annoyed.
    ‘Were you expecting anyone?’
    I wasn’t. I’d planned an early night. My cricket team had a match tomorrow, down in south London, so I’d need to be up early to get the minibus at 7 a.m. Afraid something was up, I shushed her. We waited. A couple of seconds later the bell rang again, accompanied by banging. I pushed the cushion on my lap aside.
    ‘I’ll get it. Stay here till I know who it is.’
    ‘Reece, you’re being very mysterious,’ Mum said. ‘It’s probably just one of the neighbours . . .’
    I wasn’t so sure. I edged out into the hallway. Through the glass in the front door I could see the outline of a person. This is just me being jumpy, I thought. After all, if it is Aiden or Cherie come to do something terrible, would they really ring the doorbell?
    I opened the door.
    ‘Sophie?’ I just about had time to register it was her before she flung herself at me and started to cry