by K O'Hanlon
“Mike, you need to know something before you decide so shut up and listen. I can’t have kids either. That’s really why I left so suddenly.”
“You could’ve told me then and it wouldn’t have changed anything.”
“So what is your answer now?”
“My answer now young lady is you can wait until after the funeral on Friday then I’ll be the one doing the asking.”
She laughed and hit him in the face with a cushion. “You can be such a shit, Mike.”
“We can be partners in shit. Now, can I sleep on your sofa?”
“Only if you stay on the sofa.”
“I have been known to walk in my sleep especially after drinking wine.”
Pauline stood and headed up the stairs. “Well I’m going to bed. You can finish the Chablis. But be warned, my stun gun is set on max.”
“Christ! That should make the earth move!”
A large duvet in a red rose floral print cover was thrown from the top of the stairs and landed on him. He sat there looking like a badly collapsed display in a florist’s window.
“Goodnight, Mike.”
“Night, Sweetheart.”
The next few days passed without incident. Plans were agreed and signed off. Pauline was still keeping Mike at a distance albeit a short one. He understood her reasoning and agreed he didn’t want any nasty scenes at his wife’s funeral that involved her.
Pauline was riddled with common decency and she didn’t deserve any of the nasty comments and accusations that Toni’s mother would be sure to fire at her.
Any affection or love that he had for Toni had been extinguished the instant he knew she had cheated on him with another man. Had she not been pregnant when she died he might never have known. It was like waking up to a bucket of iced water in his face. It wasn’t pleasant and he never wanted anything like that to happen again.
The funeral would serve two purposes. He could put his wife to rest without a guilty conscience before marrying again and he would find the father of Toni’s unborn child.
Friday morning started early with Mike sorting through his workload hoping to leave at midday to shower and change for his wife’s funeral at 1.30. He had been totally excluded from all the arrangements and had to phone the cemetery to find out the time of the service. Pauline had dropped by to make sure he was ok and help with a few last minute calls.
“Pauline, come in here a minute I need you to sign something.”
“What needs signing by me?”
He pulled out several sheets of paper with his solicitors heading at the top. “Put your cross on them and make it official.”
“What are they?”
“They’re what I told my solicitor to draft for me yesterday.”
She read through the first few lines then stopped and looked at him. “This is an agreement for partnership in your company.”
“Yes, I know what it is, Pauline. I just need you to sign the bloody thing.”
“Mike, I can’t just sign a piece of paper and suddenly own half of your company, it wouldn’t be right.”
“Oh for Christ sake just pick up the pen and draw a little squiggly picture that resembles your name right there on that line. It’s a draft copy. It’s not going anywhere today. I’ve got an appointment on Monday to finalise it.”
She picked up the pen and signed it. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Mike.”
“I know that Ben would approve. Congratulations!”
“Oh God, look at the time! I need to get home and re-do my hair and make-up.”
“Go ahead. I’ll pick you up in an hour.”
She needed to get a move on if she was to be ready in time. Once she left the building he faxed the signed papers to his solicitor.
The reception they received at Toni’s funeral was as expected. Mrs Bellingham looked Pauline up and down and probably would have spat if witnesses hadn’t been standing nearby.
Mike was watching the men as they arrived. He was looking for two in particular. So far neither of them had showed. Maybe they’ll stay away if they know he’ll be there.
The whole group was called to the chapel as the service was about to start. Mike stayed right at the back with Pauline and sat on the end in the last row of seating.
Every seat had a small paper booklet with a stunning photo of his wife on the front. She had been a beautiful woman. All smiles, all loving, all fake.
Sombre music started playing, heralding the arrival of his wife’s body. Six men carried the coffin to the raised wooden platform at the front before lowering it into place with all its flowers intact.
The man on the podium dressed in his best religious garb started the service with a voice loud enough to be heard in the hereafter. “We are gathered here today to honour Antonia Jane Bellingham Fairchild whose passing at such a tender age saddens us all though she will live on in our hearts for eternity and be with us always………”
Mike listened no more as his thoughts drifted back to their wedding day. Remembering how excited she had been to have a double barrel surname when they were married. It was like a status symbol to her. She was obviously happier with her new name than she was with her new husband.
He drifted back to the present just as the service was ending with The Lord’s Prayer.
As the congregation filed past the coffin to make their way out the side door Pauline held Mike back.
“Let it go, Mike. The woman has lost her daughter and her grandchild. No good can come of it. Let her grieve in peace.”
“I need to know who the father was.”
“You can find that out later. This is neither the time nor place. Please, let’s just go now.”
He knew she was right, she always was. “I’ll drop you off home then I’m going to the office. There are a few things I need to do.”
“Will I see you later?”
“Definitely. I’ve booked a table for 8 o’clock tonight at your favourite little bistro. I’ll pick you up at 7.30.”
After seeing her safely home he went to his office. There was a card in his files with the new contact number of his friend, Steve Wilkingson. He had stepped in at the last minute to be Mike’s best man rather than force Sam into doing something he dreaded. His services had come in handy several times in the past and he could be trusted to keep absolutely everything he uncovered strictly private and confidential. He had been trained by the UK government and no doubt still had many contacts. Mike typed his number into his mobile phone and waited.
“Steve, hi, it’s Mike. I’ve got a couple of jobs for you. I need some information and you’re the best person I know who can get it for me.”
“Hi, Mike. Fire away and I’ll see what I can do.”
Mike liked Steve, there was no small talk. The man did his job and he did it well.
There were two brown bags in his desk that the police had given him. One contained his wife’s personal belongings which were retrieved from her car after the accident. The other contained Sam’s mobile phone, camera equipment, laptop and wallet that were found in his hotel room. Mike had already looked through his wife’s phone and found nothing of interest. Steve was a private investigator now and knew how to retrieve deleted messages. He hoped it would throw some light on Toni’s lover boy. Pauline was right, there were other ways to get information without starting a fight at his wife’s funeral.
Sam’s death was still a puzzle. The more Mike thought about it the more he questioned the official report. He ruled out suicide as there was no reason to think he would’ve taken his own life. His brother had many faults, lazy being the most obvious. He was also uncaring and as a child had been spiteful with other kids. His life had been going in the right direction now though with the photography, and his bank balance was astonishing. He was in no way suicidal.
Mike didn’t trust the coroner’s report of accidental death by electrocution either. He couldn’t picture his brother running a bath. Men don’t sit in bathtubs, they shower. Baths are m
ore for woman to pamper themselves with perfumed bubbles and gels. And why return drunk after midnight and run a bath. Surely he would just crash out on the bed.
There were questions to be answered and although the police had the resources to look deeper into his death Mike knew they didn’t have the manpower or the funding.
The memory of his dead brother in the bath wouldn’t go away and neither would the image of seeing his clothing neatly folded on the chair as he entered his hotel room. Sam never folded anything. He either dropped his clothes on the floor in an untidy heap or threw them over a chair. Mike strongly suspected that another person had been in the hotel room when his brother died and had placed his clothing in a neat pile.
After giving the details to Steve he arranged to drop two phones and the laptop off at his house before heading home to change. He still had time to get a few things done before seeing Pauline that evening.
He arrived at her house dead on 7.30. Pauline opened the door to what looked like an enormous bunch of roses wearing suit trousers, behind them stood Mike.
“Special delivery for Miss Pauline Jackson.”
“Well I don’t normally invite the postman in but as you’ve brought me flowers I’ll make an exception.”
“I didn’t know which colour to get so I got a dozen of every colour they had.”
“They’re lovely, thank you. I don’t suppose you brought half a dozen vases to put them in?”
“Just stick them all in one vase, they’ll be fine.”
“Mike, they’ll drink the water quicker than you can get through a bottle of Chablis.”
“I might test that theory later but for now let’s go and eat.”
Parking near the trendy town square was always a problem on a Friday evening. Mike gave up looking for a space and left the Bentley on double yellow lines. Nothing was going to ruin this special occasion and if his car got towed away then so what, they could get a cab home.
The bistro owner greeted them and motioned to his head waiter to show them to their seats. The setting was romantic with a pure white table cloth. A silver candle glowed from a tall crystal glass centre piece and one single red rose was laid diagonally between Pauline’s knives and forks.
Once the wine was selected and poured the waiter returned with one small silver covered tray, placed it in front of Pauline before smiling and walking away.
“Not sure what this is, Mike. We haven’t ordered anything yet.” She lifted the lid to reveal a small jewellery box tied with a red silk ribbon on a silver plate.
“Open it.”
With shaky hands she lifted it and pulled at the bow before opening the hinged lid. “Oh, Mike. It’s beautiful.”
“I love you, Pauline. I have ever since I first met you at uni. Will you do me the honour of being my wife? Will you please marry me?”
It was a few seconds before she could speak. Mike held his breath and waited for her answer.
“Yes, Mike. I’d love to.”
He took the diamond ring from her shaky hands and placed it on her finger. Everyone in the restaurant clapped and cheered. The waiters all clapped and smiled before carrying on with their duties.
It was a wonderful evening, everything was perfect. Even Mike’s car was still where he’d left it, not a ticket or clamp in sight.
The drive back to Pauline’s house was quiet and thoughtful. Mike was the first to break the silence. “So, can I stay tonight?”
“That depends.”
“Depends on what?”
“Depends on whether you want to sleep on the sofa or not.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Then you can stay.”
He reached across and took hold of her hand, brought it to his mouth and kissed it.
Mike was the first to wake the next morning when the sun came through the bedroom window. He lay there looking at her face while she carried on sleeping.
“Hey, Cinderella. Wake up.”
She spoke in a dreamy voice without opening her eyes. “What time is it?”
“It’s time for me to go. I’ve got a busy day and I’m running late.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Don’t go. It’s Saturday.”
“Ten more minutes then I’ve got to run.”
She climbed on top of him. “Ten minutes you say?”
“Well nine now so stop wasting time woman.”
He drove the whole way back to his house with a smile on his face. He hadn’t been this happy since he was an 18 year old at university.
The post box by his gates was stuffed full to overflowing. He hadn’t bothered emptying it for several days. It was time to sift through it and restart his life.
Toni’s post was the first to be opened. A letter from the local Mercedes dealership informed him that her new obsidian metallic black C class cabriolet that she had ordered would be ready for collection soon. She hadn’t had the silver one that he bought her for very long. He hadn’t even known about this newer one. He would get on the phone to the dealer and probably make the poor man cry when he cancelled it.
The next item of post addressed to his dead wife was from a firm of Hatton Garden jewellers. They were demanding an outstanding payment of £2,750.
“What the hell has she bought from there?”
He rang the number at the top of the letter and a man answered in a very posh voice. Mike cut him off mid-sentence with a question. “My wife, Antonia Bellingham Fairchild appears to owe you £2,750. Could you tell me what she purchased and when?”
“Yes, Sir. According to our records it was a diamond studded tie pin to the value of £3,200 dated the 3rd of May.”
“Ok. I’ll settle the outstanding amount with you now.” Mike gave the man his credit card details before hanging up.
So now he knew that some lucky bastard was wearing an expensive tie pin paid for by him. That’s something else he would look out for when he bumped into her male friends.
Mike’s mobile started ringing. “Mike, it’s Steve. I’ve got some news about your wife’s phone records.”
“That was quick. I only dropped it off yesterday.”
“Her phone was easy and pretty straightforward. It was just a case of retrieving deleted text messages and her phone log.”
Steve told Mike the number she had been calling and sending texts to before giving him the name of Mr Alexander J Redbridge.
“Mike. I also looked into this Redbridge guy. He appears to be the sole heir to his uncle’s real estate company that owns a huge chunk of London’s Belgravia. I can fax you the whole list of call times and the actual text message content if you want me to.”
“Yes that’ll be useful.”
“Ok, it’s on its way. Your brother’s laptop and phone will take a bit longer, it’s more complicated.”
“Cheers, Steve. Keep me posted.”
“No problem, Mike.”
With the call over he went to the fax machine and waited for the information to arrive. His wife had apparently been in contact with Alexander Redbridge since before they were married right up until her death.
Sexy texts don’t get you pregnant so she must have been meeting up with him somewhere.
Further down the list he saw the name of their regular hotel with times and dates that they had agreed to see each other. All their messages ended with lots of love and kisses. Mike was left with one unanswered question.
“Who the fuck is Alex?”
Chapter Twenty
M ike found three people listed with the name Alexander Redbridge who lived within a fifty mile radius. The first was a chimney sweep so he ruled that one out. The second was an antiques dealer and the third didn’t list a profession. Mike made a note of the business address listed by the dealer. It was only fifteen miles away so it seemed the obvious choice. If he left now he could be there in less than half an hour.
The shop looked to be full of more junk than antiques as he pulled up outside. He decided to give it a try as he was here now anywa
y.
The bell over the door let out a very audible ding as he entered. An elderly man of about 70 came out from behind a curtain at the rear of the shop. “Good day. If you see anything you like just ask if you need assistance.”
“Are you the owner of this shop?”
“No, I just work here a few hours each week. It keeps me out of trouble. Keeps the old brain ticking over.”
“Is the owner around?”
“He’s out the back in his office. I’m just about to clock off for today so just give him a shout if you need anything.”
“Thanks, I will.”
The man left the shop. A voice from behind the curtain called out. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”
Mike decided to ring Alex Redbridge’s mobile number while he was waiting just to see what might happen. Within a few seconds he heard a mobile ringing from behind the curtain. Alex came walking through from the back room holding his phone to his ear. “Hello!”
Mike ended the call and stared at this barrel bodied short stocky man with thinning wispy hair combed across his head from an area just above his left ear. He was either in his mid-fifties or he’d had a hard life.
“Oh, they cut off. Never mind I’m sure they’ll ring back if it’s important. Have you seen anything that takes your fancy?”
Mike looked directly at the diamond studded tie pin that he was wearing. “Yes, as a matter of fact I have.” He walked straight towards him and grabbed him by the lapels then carried on right through the curtain into the small office at the rear.
“Take your hands off me! I’ll call the police!”
Mike threw him into the swivel chair by his untidy desk. “You obviously don’t know who I am, Mr Redbridge.”
“If you’re here to rob me there’s nothing in the safe worth taking!”
“There’s nothing in your whole fucking shop worth taking you miserable piece of shit!”
“What is it you want?”
