The Birthday Girl: The gripping new psychological thriller full of shocking twists and lies. Sue Fortin
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‘What’s that?’ says Zoe, picking up the note.
‘That was in my washbag last night.’ Andrea looks over at Joanne.
‘Don’t look at me,’ says our hostess.
‘Too late,’ I say with a laugh. ‘You most definitely got the look.’
‘Anyway, as I say, it was in my washbag. I definitely didn’t bring it with me, so I can only assume it’s part of the game,’ says Andrea.
‘What does it mean?’ asks Zoe, inspecting both sides of the note.
‘We haven’t worked that bit out yet,’ says Andrea. ‘Feel free to share any ideas.’
Zoe frowns. ‘Sorry, I don’t have any. I don’t think I’m going to win this game. I have no idea what’s going on.’
‘All will become clear,’ says Joanne. ‘Keep playing.’
‘Can we ask our next three questions?’ I ask. ‘That will give me something to think about today.’
Ten minutes and nine questions later, we can add some more details to our notebooks.
‘To summarise,’ I say. ‘Zoe, we now know these things about your criminal activities. You acted alone. You went to prison but you are now out. You were in the newspapers. It was to do with a bank and it was in the last twenty years.’
‘Aha, I think I know who you might be,’ says Andrea, a satisfied look on her face. ‘All I need now is to find a clue around this place.’
‘Remember, don’t say anything until tomorrow evening,’ says Joanne.
Andrea mimes zipping her mouth closed and sits back with folded arms.
‘OK, Miss Clever-Clogs,’ says Zoe. ‘Let’s ask Carys her questions. I’ll go first.’
‘Fire away,’ I say.
Five minutes later, Zoe is studying her notebook. ‘This is hard. I can’t think who you might be. You were in the public eye. You were very popular. You were not a TV celebrity. You were not a singer. You married someone famous. Wait a minute … I think I know who you are. Damn it, I want to ask another question but I can’t.’
‘What about you Andrea? You any the wiser?’ I ask.
‘Possibly.’ Andrea taps her notebook with her pencil.
‘We need to get off on our walk soon. Are you going to ask Andrea any questions?’ says Joanne.
‘I’ll ask first,’ says Zoe. ‘Andrea, we know from yesterday you are a criminal, so my first question today is, are you a murderer?’
Andrea nods. ‘Yes.’
‘Question two. Were you caught for your crime?’
‘She must have been,’ I say. ‘We wouldn’t know about it otherwise.’
‘But you’ve asked the question and can’t change your mind now,’ says Andrea. ‘And the answer is yes.’
‘Knickers,’ huffs Zoe. ‘I didn’t think of that. OK, last question from me. Did you hang for your crime?’
A stilled silence swamps the room. Joanne throws me a sideways look and then exchanges one with Andrea. Of all the questions Zoe could have asked, she had to mention hanging. It seems like minutes but in fact it is only a couple of seconds. I realise everyone is waiting for my reaction. I swallow, fake a smile and urge Andrea to answer the question.
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