by S A Tameez
“Can I please ask you what this has in connection to the crime?” Nick asked.
“Of course, I am sorry. I don’t get many guests and tend to get carried away. Now, where was I? Ah, yes, the man… he was charming. He had a posh British accent, sounded educated, unlike my Jacob, who dropped out at O-levels. The reason why I reported it was because there was something about the man that seemed odd.”
“Can you elaborate?” Zoe said followed by a sigh.
“Well, at first I couldn’t work it out, but it hit me later – it was the watch he was wearing.”
“What about it?” Zoe probed.
“Well, it was a 1930's ladies Art Deco white Enamel Watch, I knew that because my Jacob bought me one exactly like it.”
“And you thought to report him because he was wearing a watch that didn’t match his gender?” Zoe asked, snapping her notebook shut.
“That, and the fact it had stopped at nine. He was wearing a ladies’ watch that was not working.”
Nick looked at Zoe who was now staring at the floor.
“I am sorry if this isn’t helpful,” The old lady said, “but I was told if I had seen anything suspicious, to report it, so I did.”
“You did the right thing. Was there anything else?”
“No.”
“Thank you very much Mrs Green. You’ve been a great help.” Nick said, “One last thing, do you still have the watch your husband gave you?”
“Of course, it’s upstairs on my bedside table.”
“Would you mind if we had a look at it and perhaps took some photos?”
“Of course. Anything I can do to help. I shan’t be a moment.”
“We’re wasting our time,” Zoe whispered after the old lady left the room.
“Perhaps, but we don’t have any other leads.”
“So we start wild goose chases instead?”
“No one else has come forward. Until something else comes up, we follow this.”
“Fine,” Zoe said, “and… I shouldn’t have snapped earlier. I know you’re just trying to help.”
“Apology accepted.”
“I don’t need your help or anyone else’s.”
Jesus Christ! She’s hard work. Offers a half-baked apology and then snatches it back.
Mrs Green walked back into the room and placed the white gold BENRUS watch on the table. He realised how she recognised it so quickly, it was a unique looking Swiss watch with a mesh band. Lovely swirl marks around the bezel. It had the charm of a woman who had matured beautifully.
Nick took a few snaps of the watch on his phone.
“An officer will be in touch to get a better description of the man you saw.” Nick said, “Thank you for your help.”
On the drive back, Nick glanced at his watch and then called the office.
“Is Mrs Fowler still being interviewed?” Nick asked the Sergeant.
“Yes, I think they’re just wrapping up.”
“Can you tell them to stall her.”
“Sorry?” He sensed the confusion in Sergeant’s tone.
“Delay her from leaving. I will be there in 15 minutes.” He hung up and began driving faster.
“Erm… care to share?”
“Call it a hunch.”
“A hunch?” She smiled. “I thought Police officers with a hunch belonged only in the movies.” She then frowned and started speaking in a deep voice, “I thought real Police work was about hard-boiled facts and indisputable evidence and—”
“Right, that’s enough.” Nick said and kept his focus on the road. It was late, he didn’t want Sarah Fowler’s mother leaving before he had a chance to speak to her.
Nick knocked on the door and entered the interview room where Mrs Fowler was sitting. Zoe followed.
“Mrs Fowler, I’m DS Nick Bailey, this is DC Zoe Hall. Our condolences on your loss.”
Mrs Fowler looked like she had cried out all her tears yet did not look defeated.
“Are you the Detectives working on finding who did this to my daughter?”
“Yes, along with a large team of officers.”
“Then I don’t want your condolences – I want you to catch who did this, and I want them brought to justice.”
“We are doing everything we can, I assure you.”
Her hands trembled as she moved her hair from her face and tucked it behind her ears.
“I’ve lost everyone I ever loved in my life,” she said in a shaky voice. “My husband and now my daughter. I let her down in life – I will not let her down in death. I will not rest until her killer is found. I owe her that much.”
“Mrs Fowler, I can’t imagine what you are going through,” Nick said, “But we are working around the clock to find out exactly what happened.”
“Life has snatched everything from me. It wasn’t enough for me to lose my husband – I had to lose everything. She was all I had left.”
“I… I am sorry.” Nick said, “Look, I know this is difficult and there are people who you can—”
She raised her index finger – a universal gesture for him stop. Not to offer her to speak to someone, get help or anything of the sort.
Nick placed his phone in front of her. “Do you recognise this watch?”
Mrs Fowler stared at the phone for a moment and then parted her fingers to zoom into the image. She looked up at Nick and shook her head.
“No, I don’t recognise it. Does this have something to do with my daughter?”
“We’re just trying to figure some things out,” Nick said. Annoyed that the watch meant nothing – and that Zoe was right – they just wasted their time. Valuable time. “Thank you, Mrs Fowler. We will stay in touch and update you with any progress.”
“What can I do to help?” she asked. Nick wanted to say that there was nothing she could do to help, because it was true. But saying she could do nothing didn’t feel right.
“We are carrying out urgent enquiries to get to the bottom of this, and we will get to the bottom of it. But in the meantime, if you can think of anyone she had been in contact with recently, anyone she may have argued with or may have wanted to hurt her, then please let us know immediately.” It sounded like a script because it was – if she knew anything that might help, she would have already told them. But he couldn’t send her away feeling more helpless than she already did.
Nick sat at his desk and stared at his computer screen. He skimmed over his emails, unable to focus on anything. For a moment, he was convinced the watch meant something. Something significant. But that would be too easy. And things were never too easy – not in this line of work.
“I’m off,” Zoe said without entering the office. “Do you mind if I take a look at the Sailor case files at home?”
“Well, then you’re not really off, are you?”
“I suppose not. Wanted to glance over them tonight – see if we missed something.”
“It’s ten o’clock!” Nick glanced at his watch, “I think you should go home and get some rest. You’re back in the morning, have a look at them with a fresh pair of eyes.”
“You’re right,” she squeezed the back of her neck and smiled, “Good night.”
Nick nodded then looked at his phone – two missed calls.
Crap!
He turned the computer off, gulped the last sip of coffee and grabbed his coat. As he rushed to his car, he thought of how much easier this would be had Stacey worked in the force or even in the medical profession – less explaining, more understanding.
As he approached the house, the lights were off, and he had forgotten the Terry’s Chocolate Orange. So absorbed in work that he had forgotten anything else existed. Perhaps what he said to Zoe was not advice but his guilt speaking. Zoe had consciously chosen to be alone – he had made commitments – commitments he failed to keep.
He understood Zoe and her determination – to others, this was a job, a pay cheque. A means to pay the bills. But to people like Zoe, it wasn’t a job, it was a way of life. Peo
ple’s lives were affected by their commitments. Sacrifices needed to be made. He glanced at his reflection in the rear-view mirror and shook his head. A few years back, he might have believed that self-gratifying bullshit, but he been around long enough to know the truth. Everyone was broken somewhere. Some hid it well, but it was there, you just needed to look hard enough. The saying “Youth was wasted on the young” was simply not true. When you were young, you had passion, drive, ambition – the balls to do something courageous, or even stupid, but do something. Youth belonged with the young – the old would no longer know what to do with it. There was a difference between questioning what you’re fighting for and not fighting at all.
Nick preferred quotes like "You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain." Seemed a lot more accurate even though he heard it in a movie. They say you become more sensible as you age but everyone knows you don’t – you become more cynical. You don’t lose your temper because you’re passionate, you lose it because you’ve grown tired and impatient. You don’t speak up because you want to see change, you do it because you want a fight. And you don’t fight because you’re afraid. Afraid to ask yourself if you are the good guys or the bad guys. So instead, you sit in a pool of self-pity, guilt and anger, and you let it eat away at you until there’s nothing worth saving left.
Stacey lay on the couch watching television. She hadn’t noticed him come in. He paused and watched the back of her head for a moment and reflected. How simple life would be if he were in another profession, one where he came home and closed the door to the world. He wondered whether Stacey ever thought that – perhaps even regretted partnering up with someone who never switched off.
“Hey,’ Nick said casually, as if he hadn’t come home stupidly late and hadn’t ignored all her calls and messages. And hadn’t forgotten the one thing she asked for.
“Hey stranger,” she smiled.
Phew. She’s smiling instead of throwing something at him. Maybe she would do that after he told her about the chocolate.
“Sorry, I’m late… and I kind of forgot the Terry’s Chocolate Orange,” he confessed immediately. Better to get it out and face the music then to suffer the suspense before the inevitable lynching. What was he thinking? Forgetting a pregnant woman’s chocolate is like giving yourself a million papercuts – a slow and painful death.
“It’s fine – I improvised,” She pointed at Galaxy chocolate wrapper and orange peels on the coffee table. Relief surged through Nick like a bolt of lightning. He would live to see another day.
“You hate oranges. They give you indigestion.”
“I know!” She pointed at her bump.
“How’s the little rascal doing?” Nick smiled and placed his palm on her stomach. Something he hadn’t done since she announced that she was pregnant. He only did it then because it was what he was supposed to do. Show he was happy, excited, and not terrified.
“Missing you.” She put her hand on his and then looked into his eyes, “We both are.”
“I know, and I’m sorry.” He kissed her forehead.
“Don’t apologise. I get it. I know what I signed up for.”
“That doesn’t make it OK.”
“It’s fine, honestly. But forget my chocolate again, and I won’t be responsible for what I do!”
“Scouts honour!”
“Great. Now, help me up – I think I’m stuck. I feel like a whale stranded on a beach.”
Chapter 12
Before
As Sarah walked towards the train, she contemplated whether to go into university today or skip it. It was already two p.m. and she had missed the morning lectures. She couldn’t bear to face Melisa’s questioning and fussing and certainly couldn’t stomach getting another grilling from Jane. You never truly know someone.
Yet she had already decided to meet a person she hardly knew from a mysterious invite at a random place. Life was a maze that she couldn’t work out – whichever way she turned she hit a wall. She often hoped the world would suddenly flip upside down and let her fall off.
She removed her phone and typed in the postcode EC3R 5DD. Google showed St Dunstan-in-the-East. An old church halfway between London Bridge and the Tower of London. Half torn apart in the Second World War. She scrolled through images of the place – it looked pleasant.
Why would he want to go there?
Perhaps she had got it wrong – she rechecked the message, but she wasn’t wrong; it was the correct address. Maybe it wasn’t intended for her. He could have sent it to her by mistake. That would make more sense as there were no instructions or explanations with the message. Who does that anyway, sends a random postcode and a time?
As she walked onto the platform and after convincing herself she should go into university and pretend everything was normal, she heard a voice call out from behind her.
“Sarah!”
She turned to see a tall man in a white shirt and a smart coat, blond hair and gleaming blue eyes. He looked familiar. The eyes and the dimples sparked a memory of time she had forgotten.
“Justin?” she said examining his face, merging the images she had of him as child with the man stood in front of her.
“Yes, in the flesh.” His dimples stood out more through the neatly trimmed stubble.
“Oh my God!” she hugged him, “How are you?” She inhaled deeply taking in his cologne.
“I’m good, and you?” He smiled. His teeth were gleaming and perfectly shaped. She only ever remembered him with braces. He wore them for so many years, that she forgot he even had teeth. The metal fixtures in his mouth had become a permanent feature of his in her mind.
“I’m good too. It’s been like forever. I mean, what are you doing here?”
“It’s only been ten years,” he remarked calmly. There was an air of confidence around him she had never seen before. People do change… and this was a good change. A change she liked.
“Only!” she gasped.
“And, I finally escaped the countryside and got a job in the city. Well, I say job, but I mean an apprenticeship.”
“Wow, that’s amazing.” Not that she thought it was. Working in the city was enormously overrated – everything about the city was overrated – something he would soon come to learn. He was better off in the sticks.
“It’s OK.” He shrugged. But under his cool exterior, she sensed his nerves and excitement. He was ecstatic.
“So, how does it feel to be back in the big bad city?”
“I’m not sure. I mean when my dad took us out of here and to a place where nothing happens, I hated it, but I got used to it – the quiet, the peacefulness.” He looked around as if he were still getting used to the hustle and bustle of the city. At the time when he left, she felt as if it was the worst thing that could have happened to him but in hindsight, it was probably the best. He was saved from the challenges city life brought.
“Well, it’s great to see you again,” Sarah said, thinking back to her happy memories of them living on the same street and attending the same school. They were the good times, before life crept up on her and wrestled her to the ground.
“It’s good to see you too.” His expression then turned more serious, “Hey, what are you doing now?”
“Me, I’m supposed to be going to university…”
“That’s great coz I’m supposed to be going to work but… they won’t mind if I’m a little late. You… fancy getting a coffee?’ He made a face as if expecting rejection. “Unless you must go… I mean I don’t want to—”
“I’d love to.” Sarah smiled. Perhaps this is what she needed – an old friend, from a time before all the madness. A good old friend – someone who didn’t know the ‘real’ her – wouldn’t judge her. Someone even her mother would approve of.
“There’s a Starbucks just around the corner.”
“Great.” He sighed as if he was holding his breath, “Lead the way,” he gestured comically with his arms. He was just as bubbly a
nd charismatic as she remembered – just taller and more handsome. The stubble suited him – she wasn’t sure about the shirt or the smart brown shoes. Though the shirt fitted nicely around his muscular body and the smart shoes were what you would expect someone on a fancy apprenticeship to be wearing.
Her recollections of him were always un-ironed t-shirts and ripped jeans – not the stylish ripped jeans people wore now-a-days, but jeans that were not intentionally ripped. His hair curled uncontrollably, and he was always sneezing. He was a nerd. A good, kind nerd, but a nerd. One that had grown up and blossomed nicely.
She didn’t look anything like her younger self either – but the wheels were turning in the opposite direction for her. she was surprised he even recognised her. Her skin had lost its colour and her unhealthy relationship with food meant she was much skinnier than before. The thought made her suddenly conscious of herself. She had a few nice outfits but didn’t usually care enough about her appearance to wear them. She didn’t wear makeup, aside from a bit of concealer and eyeliner. She wished she had today, she could have hidden behind it – preventing him from peeling back the layers.
Starbucks was quiet. A rare, but pleasant, occurrence. It meant you could get a table and have a conversation without shouting. Sarah ordered a white chocolate mocha; Justin went for the signature hot chocolate with caramel.
“I see the sweet cravings haven’t gone.” Sarah remarked as they took their drinks and sat at the table.
“There’s only a few things in life that I am completely submissive to,” he said, “Sugar happens to be one!”
“Dare I ask what the others are?”
“Well, that’s for me to know and you to find out.” A cliché he obviously held onto since childhood.
“Do I really want to know?”
“Probably not,” he laughed.
“You still hooked on the Peanut M&Ms?”
