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one wasn’t fastened. Small collar and narrow-fitted trousers. Really white teeth, like them on the adverts. I’ve written all about the times I’ve seen him in my journal, except for when he killed Mr Phillips. I haven’t been home yet to write it down.’

I noticed Detective Green had started to write the description I was giving them down. I hoped they believed me.

‘Can we see this journal?’ he asked.

‘Umm
’ I wasn’t keen on letting someone read my journal. They would see all the details of everyone I’d ever followed.

‘It could really help us find this “Suit” fella. If we can read it for ourselves
’ he prompted.

I bit my lip. ‘Okay. But you’re not to read everything else. Only his entry.’

He chuckled. ‘Scout’s honour,’ he said, holding three fingers up. I wasn’t sure if I believed him. ‘PC Williams, get WPC Thompson to take his grandad back home to get the journal,’ he told him.

‘Righto,’ he said and was just about to leave when I half-turned to stop him.

‘Wait,’ I said. ‘He doesn’t know where it is.’

I filled him in on where to find it, and we waited for them to return with the journal. During that time, the detectives made me repeat everything I’d told them over and over until WPC Thompson came back with the journal.

I unbound the book, located the page with The Suit’s name at the top, handed it over, and waited while both detectives read it in turn.

‘PC Williams, get WPC Thompson to copy this down exactly as John-Michael has written it, then bring it back,’ said Detective Lightman.

The constable jumped from the back of the room and took the book. ‘Back in a jiffy.’

‘John-Michael, you said you wrote the first entry a week ago?’ Detective Lightman asked as the door closed behind PC Williams.

‘Yes, today a week ago.’

‘And you’d never seen him before until then?’

‘No, and I see everyone,’ I told him.

‘Yes, so I’ve noticed. That’s a mighty heavy journal, John-Michael.’

PC Williams came back into the room with my journal and a slip of paper in his hands.

‘That was quick. I hope she hasn’t written it out in shorthand. I want it exactly as John-Michael has written it,’ Lightman said to PC Williams.

‘She’s a fast writer, that girl. I checked it myself,’ he replied, handing the paper to the detectives and my journal to me.

The detectives scrutinised the paper once more, then Lightman looked up at PC Williams, who had resumed his place behind me.

‘What do you think, constable?’ asked Lightman. ‘You seen or heard about anyone new around town fitting this description?’

‘Nope, but things have been hectic with the accident last week and extra shifts at the mine. I think the lad is telling the truth. I don’t think he’d hurt anybody. What I can’t fathom is why he didn’t report it when it happened,’ he said.

I bit down on my lip. What he was saying was right. I should have told them, and I wouldn’t be in this mess.

‘He’s right, I wouldn’t hurt anybody—especially Mr Phillips. He was my friend. Grandad’s too. I was scared, so I ran and ran until I couldn’t run anymore, then I hid. He said he was going to hurt me,’ I stressed, then I remembered Mr Phillips’s anxious behaviour. ‘Mr Phillips was scared too. I found him hiding in a corner one day. He said something bad might happen to him.’

‘Did he? Alright, son, we’re going to make some enquiries. But you aren’t off the hook yet, this is a serious murder enquiry. You best be praying your story checks out. Just ’cos PC Williams here believes you doesn’t mean we do. Do you understand?’

I gulped. They had to believe me. ‘Yes. Can I go home now?’

‘Yes, with some conditions, but you’ll be seeing us again, John-Michael. Keep your nose clean ’til then.’

‘My nose is always clean,’ I said.

I couldn’t be sure who, but one of them snorted and then they both got up and left.

PC Williams came and sat in front of me, and I shuffled my chair so I could sit to the side.

‘John-Michael, what a mess you’ve got yourself into,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘They could throw the book at you if your story doesn’t check out.’

‘I’m telling the truth!’ I yelled with fists clenched on my thighs. ‘The Suit is real. I would never hurt Mr Phillips. I love working in his shop.’

‘Alright, I know you’d never hurt him. I’m going to ask around about this “Suit” fella. Someone must have seen him if he stands out as much as you say.’

‘People had to have seen him. He’s been hanging around for a week now.’

‘Okay, come on. The desk sergeant needs to go through a few things with you. Then I’ll take you to where your grandad and mam are waiting for you.’

Great. I was more scared of them than of the two detectives.

Chapter Seventeen

Mum slapped me hard across the face, and I stumbled back onto PC Williams’s feet. He cleared his throat but didn’t say anything.

‘I knew you were a wrong’un, from the day you were born,’ she said and stormed out.

‘Grandad, it wasn’t me!’ I told him.

‘I know that, lad, you’d never hurt anyone. It’s just that me and your mam
 we can’t understand why you didn’t fetch the police or tell us. We could’ve sorted out all this mess. What on earth were you thinking, John-Michael? I didn’t bring you up that way.’ he said, his shoulders sagging.

‘I’m sorry
’ My stance matched his.

‘I bet you are, son. You’re in deep crap now.’

I frowned. I knew I must be bad if Grandad swore. He hardly ever used bad language.

‘Come on and get in the car. Tina and Pete should be waiting at home,’ he said, gently touching me on the shoulder to guide me out.

‘Why are Tina and Pete waiting, do they have more news to tell us?’ I asked. I didn’t think I could take on much more news.

‘No, we’re having a family meeting when we get

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