The Brighton Mermaid by Koomson Dorothy

Author:Koomson, Dorothy [Koomson, Dorothy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House
Published: 2018-05-17T04:00:00+00:00

Nell

Wednesday, 25 April

This wasn’t a normal burglary. That’s obvious because pretty much everything of value – TV, DVD, cash, computer screens – is all still here, and the only things missing are the three hard drives from the desktop computers in my office. Also, whoever it was that came out of the darkness trashed my home. There are papers – everywhere. Every drawer has been opened and emptied, even the drawer in the white unit under the bathroom sink. The family trees have been ripped off the walls, the filing cabinet broken open and papers strewn about. It’s obvious that whoever was here was looking for something, but I’m not sure what.

It’s also now obvious that whoever pushed me over last Friday and stole my bag was doing it for a specific reason, and not simply to mug me.

I’ve been itching to tidy up. Pick things up. Straighten out things. Just get my flat back to how it should be. When I called the police, though, they said they would get to me as soon as they could, but not to touch anything, so I had to sit by the front door, my bags around me, my arm a big throbbing wedge of pain by my side, and my face stinging so much I kept thinking I was going to pass out.

‘You really should go and get your injuries looked at,’ the uniformed police officer says.

I’m allowed to sit on the sofa since it’s unlikely they will get any forensic evidence from it. I actually preferred sitting by the front door, because from here I’m at the epicentre of the devastation that has been wrought upon my home and it is making me feel worse, if that’s possible.

‘I will,’ I mumble at the police officer.

‘Is there anyone we can call to come and stay with you?’ he asks.

I shake my head. Before I called the police I almost called Macy. My finger actually hovered over her number on my phone, but I decided against it. Aaron, possibly, but then that would be more line-blurring. And Zach I couldn’t impose upon like that. So that was the end of that. ‘I’ll be fine.’

The forensics woman who is dusting for fingerprints is going over the television at the moment. She’s working quietly, methodically, but for some reason it sounds very loud – like every touch of her brush is a canon firing, every lift of her fingerprint paper is nails dragged down a chalkboard.

‘And you’re sure nothing was taken except the computer hard drives?’ the officer asks. The other police officer reappears from the bedroom area, and comes to stand beside him. The pair of them are dressed in black, short-sleeved uniforms, they have radios on their lapels, handcuffs on their waistbands, truncheons on the other side. And heavy black boots that I would have made them remove under other circumstances because I don’t allow outside footwear inside my house.

‘Yes,’ I say. ‘I had my tablet and my laptop with me.’

‘Why do you have three computers, Miss Okorie?’ the first officer asks pleasantly enough.

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