Soul Fire

perch on the edge of the sofa, so it doesn’t swallow me up. He sits at the other end, and, for a moment, I almost wish I had asked for a coffee because I don’t want to say
the words out loud.
    ‘Tim’s dead.’
    Lewis stares at me. ‘Bloody hell. How?’
    ‘Suffocated.’
    ‘Was he smothered? Like Meggie?’
    I knew Lewis would make the connection straight away.
    ‘He had a plastic bag over his head. But it’s still asphyxiation. So it has to be the same person, doesn’t it?’
    ‘Hold on, Ali. A plastic bag . . . That could be suicide, right?’
    ‘If you think that, then you’re as blinded by the press as the rest of them!’ I snap back. ‘I thought you were different, Lewis. Aren’t you meant to be a scientist?
If you won’t listen to the evidence, I might as well go.’ I stand up.
    ‘Calm down. I’m on your side. But you haven’t given me the evidence yet. Sit down and take me through it.’
    I do sit again, reluctantly, as I realise there is actually no one else I can confide in. ‘OK. Well, Tim was found by his flatmate, Ade. I told you about him before. Sahara’s
boyfriend. He came back to their place and found Tim there. There was a bottle at his side, and the bag, but no note.’
    ‘Go on.’
    ‘That’s the most important fact of all, Lewis. If he didn’t leave a note, that proves he didn’t kill himself.’
    Lewis massages his head, like he can stimulate his brain cells through his scalp. ‘Alice . . . I see what you’re getting at, but not everyone leaves a note. And if he’d been
drinking, maybe it got too much for him, suddenly? He might not have planned it.’
    ‘Yes, but . . .’ If only I could tell Lewis about the Beach, about the look on my sister’s face when she saw Tim. That was all the proof I needed that Meggie knew deep
down that Tim was her soul mate, not her killer.
    Of course, I can’t explain that to Lewis – but I can tell him about Burning Truths.
    ‘OK. Say Tim didn’t do it himself, then who do you think did?’ Lewis asks.
    ‘Someone who knew both of them. From Greenwich.’
    ‘Like who? Sahara? This Ade? Some other random person?’
    ‘I don’t know. But I’m not the only one who thinks Tim was innocent. There’s a website.’
    He leans forward. For the first time, he doesn’t look like he’s humouring me. ‘Those hoax emails you had hassle with when Meggie first died?’
    I shake my head, perhaps too vigorously. Those ‘hoax emails’ were what led me to Soul Beach. ‘No, that finished ages ago. This is something the police mentioned.
It’s called Burning Truths and . . .’
    Lewis is already at his computer. Or, one of them. The site loads instantly, in all its gothic crudeness.
    ‘Blimey, that’s not subtle, is it? I’ll bet whoever did this also loves nineties heavy metal, and is planning to get a secret skull tattoo when he’s sixteen.’
    I try to smile but I can’t. ‘It’s not a joke. The design isn’t important. It’s what it says.’
    He looks up at me and his expression changes. ‘You’re right. Sorry. Attack of the dangerously socially inept.’
    This time I do manage to smile. ‘I know it looks like one of those awful tribute sites, but it’s not. Whoever wrote this is convinced Tim is innocent.’
    ‘ You think he’s innocent, Ali.’
    ‘That site isn’t mine ,’ I say. ‘Apart from anything else, I don’t have the computer skills. The thing is, whoever it is might know something important. Read
it yourself. The person behind this knew both of them, you can tell by the way it’s written. So they might be the final piece in the jigsaw.’
    ‘Or they might just be another conspiracy theorist who has become fixated on their stories the way stalkers do.’ He turns his chair round to face me. ‘Is it not time to let it
go, Alice? Tim’s death could be a full stop instead of a question mark. A chance to move on.’
    I say nothing.
    Lewis sighs. ‘OK. OK. That’s not an option. Silly suggestion, obviously.’
    ‘Could you find out who built the site for me?’
    ‘Probably. Anyone putting together something this ugly is unlikely to have the know-how to keep their identity a secret. I’ll make a start, shall I? I should have known this was more
than a social call.’ But he’s smiling as he says it.
    Within seconds, lines of numbers and letters are streaming across the screen, and he’s gazing at the code with the adoration men usually save for supermodels. I guess it’s good news
that