Something You Are by Hanna Jameson Page A

him.’
    â€˜No.’ I glanced back down the hall and at the cigarette burns on the wall. ‘Must’ve been one hell of a party last night.’
    â€˜Yeah, Kyle does know how to throw ’em. Dunno where he gets the money to keep payin’ for so many sweets. I can barely afford a fuckin’ half-ounce nowadays, I’m fuckin’ skint.’
    He handed me the tea.
    â€˜Coke?’ I enquired, remembering Mark’s brief description of Kyle’s occupation.
    He grinned. ‘Oh, all sorts. Coke, Es, acid, smack, anything you want. Amazin’ really, he has a party like this like three or four times a week.’
    I looked down the hall again. That sounded like a lot for a common drug dealer to be paying for on a regular basis.
    â€˜Why you lookin’ for him anyway?’
    Joe sounded as though he couldn’t really care less about the answer. He looked harmless enough to be trustworthy.
    â€˜It’s about a girl called Emma Dyer,’ I said. ‘Do you know her?’
    His face broke into a smile. ‘Oh, her – yeah, Kyle used to bring her here a lot. Man, she was wild, I’ve never seen a girlsnort that much in my life. Haven’t seen her in a while though. She all right?’
    â€˜She’s dead.’
    He rubbed his watery eyes, taking a while to absorb what was being said. ‘Fuck, man… fuck, you aren’t the filth, are you?’
    â€˜No, I’m just trying to track Kyle down to talk to him about Emma. I think he was the last person to see her alive.’
    â€˜Oh fuck, man, fuck…’ He rubbed his eyes again roughly, sobering up in an instant. ‘You think he killed her or something?’
    â€˜I don’t know, that’s what I’m trying to find out. But could you help me? Maybe give me the name of someone Kyle works with so I can speak to them?’
    He had both hands to his head. ‘Well… if you want someone who knows where he might be then you can always speak to Matt Masters. He’s not here, he’s not usually around, but he lives a couple of houses down the road at number three. He knew Emma quite well, he was mates with them both.’
    â€˜Is he a dealer too?’
    â€˜Yeah. Mostly weed though.’
    â€˜Cheers.’ I smiled. ‘What’s your name again?’
    â€˜Joe, but everyone calls me Meds cos I have to take injections all the time.’
    â€˜Diabetic?’
    â€˜Yeah. Sucks, cos, you know, I can’t do much of this.’ He made a gesture back at the living room. ‘Or even drink that much, really. But yeah, all my mates call me Meds.’
    I put my cup down on the side. ‘Thanks for the tea.’
    â€˜No worries, man.’
    â€˜Oh, and do you mind not mentioning that you talked to me? It’s kinda sensitive.’
    â€˜Yeah, whatever.’
    â€˜Thanks, that’s a big help. Just don’t touch the hard stuff, yeah? That stuff fucks with your head.’
    He returned my smile with a hint of bravado. ‘Yeah, a mate of mine used to say that if you abuse something it’ll abuse you back.’
    â€˜Your mate spoke a lot of sense.’
    â€˜Not really – he’s dead.’
    There was an awkward silence. I wondered whether Clare had been anything like her daughter at this age, whether the scars had ever been accompanied by a scattering of loose cocaine on a dressing table, empty bottles of Bacardi and the stale smell of too much sex and cum-stained mattresses.
    â€˜How old are you?’ I asked, not knowing why I cared.
    â€˜Seventeen… My mate, he was called Dave. He topped himself last year.’
    His matter-of-fact tone made my skin crawl. At least some kids deserved the luxury of a normal childhood, away from all this shit.
    â€˜I’m sorry.’
    Another house, another kitchen, another apology.
    â€˜It’s cool, man. It was what he wanted, I think. They said it was an accident but I never thought