If Snow Hadn't Fallen (a Lacey Flint short story)

smallest of the towels into the letter-box to jamb it shut. The largest I wrapped round myself, leaving just the smallest gap to see out of.
    Still no sound from outside. Did I dare hope they’d gone? Then the best and most beautiful sound in the world. That of a police siren, heading my way.

18
    ‘WE DIDN’T RELEASE information about the masks,’ said Anderson. ‘Or rather, we said the assailants were masked, but without giving any details. Lacey, are you sure about the ones you saw tonight?’
    Half an hour later, I was having another new experience – being interviewed in bed. My flat was awash with police officers and firefighters. The firemen were cleaning up the petrol and nailing the letter-box shut; the coppers – those who weren’t talking to me – were searching the garden. Anderson had given me time to shower, then, seeing me shivering, had suggested I sit on the bed and wrap the duvet around myself. Mizon had made me strong, sweet tea.
    ‘Positive,’ I said. ‘Alien, goblin, wolf. Wolf seemed to be in charge again. The Queen and the zombie must have been out front.’ I half laughed, managing to splutter tea down my chin. ‘All the time I was trying to hold the letter-box shut, I kept seeing HM,’ I went on, ‘in one of those pearl-encrusted brocade dresses she wears, trying to light a match on her tiara.’
    I didn’t need to glance up to know exactly what kind of look was being shared above my head.
    ‘Can’t be the same masks, though, Sarge,’ said Mizon. ‘Aren’t they in the evidence store back at the station?’
    ‘They certainly should be,’ agreed Anderson. ‘So our friends bought exact replicas, because they knew that’s what would put the wind up Lacey the most.’
    ‘When they go down for twenty-five years, I’m sure the knowledge that they were spot on will prove some comfort,’ I said, more to keep up team morale than because I had any real confidence that the arrest and conviction would come about.
    A blast of cold air hit us as Tulloch came in from the back garden. In spite of everything, I really had to admire the way she could look so good at 3.30 a.m. on a December morning. Her skin and hair were perfect. Her fitted coat was the colour of pale amber and her black boots shone like those of a household cavalry officer. At the sight of the three of us, sitting on my bed like some sort of grown-up slumber party, her eyebrows raised, but she made no comment.
    ‘Well, I’m sure you’ll all be encouraged to learn that a very clear print was left outside that our guys are pretty certain matches one in the park on the night of the murder,’ she said. ‘If it’s confirmed, then we know Chowdhury’s murderers were here tonight. Question is, why?’
    I couldn’t look at her.
    ‘We were just talking about that,’ said Anderson. ‘What I don’t get is why now. If Lacey had been able to identify the men in the park, she’d have done so already. The fact that they’re still at large means she can’t. So why choose now to put the frighteners on her?’
    ‘Lacey, what did you do?’ asked Tulloch in the tone a mother uses when she’s waiting for one of her kids to own up to filching the biscuits.
    ‘I went to talk to the Bailey brothers at home this afternoon,’ I admitted. ‘Daniel Fisher was there too. I think he recognized me.’
    ‘Shit and corruption,’ said Anderson.
    ‘Lacey, are you mad?’ said Mizon, at exactly the same time. Tulloch said nothing, but I could feel her eyes on me.
    ‘It probably was them who killed Aamir,’ I went on. ‘I think I’ve seen one of them in the street watching me. And I believe they’ve been hanging round the park, too.’
    ‘Why would they do that?’ asked Anderson.
    ‘I think there was another witness,’ I said. ‘My woman in black. I think she saw what happened and she made the phone call. I think she can identify them and they know it.’
    ‘Sorry to interrupt.’ One of the firemen was in the doorway. Mizon straightened up on the bed and pulled her collar straight.
    ‘We’re just about done,’ he went on, addressing me. ‘We’ve cleaned up and no one’s getting anything through your letter-box without some serious tools. I recommend you get one of those wall-mounted mail-boxes tomorrow. I’ve left you a couple of foam-filled fire extinguishers.’
    ‘Thank you,’ I said.
    ‘I’ll show you out,’ said Mizon, jumping up and following him from the room, leaving me to face Anderson and