by S A Tameez
She hunted through the paperwork on the desk but quickly found herself gazing at the wall.
After work, Nick goes home, she thought. Home. It had been a strange concept for most of her adult life. When she thought about home, she only ever thought about her parent’s house. Associated with warmth, laughter and other people. Family. Another almost alien concept. How did things get here? She missed being a child, a time when the future was mysterious, exciting. She missed looking forward to things rather than having them. The best part of wanting to get a driving licence was the wanting part. The same as wanting anything. It was the working towards, the race, grind, whatever you wanted to call it, that was the best part. It was only when you got them you realised, they weren’t worth the anxieties, sleepless nights or the pain.
It made her feel sorry for the ones that had everything, born filthy rich – nothing left to want, nothing to work towards. It must be like having everything and yet having nothing at all.
Where she lived now was not a home – it was just a house — a place where she robotically lived and slept. Associated with cups of instant coffee, ready meals, takeaways and the odd rented movie that was rarely watched to the end. Movies were the pinnacle of madness. They depicted people who never existed and never will. Action heroes who could single-handedly defeat an army, men in tights saving the world and worst off all, perfect people who don’t lie and cheat.
Everyone lies and everyone cheats.
The phone in her pocket buzzed. She grimaced at the screen.
“Yes,” She answered,
“Hi Zoe,” Nick replied.
“What’s up?”
“Norman Hyde was not at the property, but we’ve seized lots of evidence that might help us with the investigation.”
“That’s great,” Zoe said trying to sound enthusiastic.
“And we’re bringing Mrs Hyde in for questioning.”
“You think she knows something?”
“I arrested her.”
“You arrested her?” She choked on the air.
“She was trying to destroy evidence.”
“What evidence?”
“Blue top with bloodstains.”
“You’re joking?” Zoe sprang to life.
“I shit you not.”
“ETA?”
“Be there in ten minutes.”
“Perfect.”
This changed everything. Zoe began listing things on the board in the office.
Norman Hyde – prime suspect.
IC1 man, in black coat (George Clooney look-a-like) – a suspect – watch may be linked to previous victims.
Michael Fowler – victim’s uncle with the car garage – dodgy cars.
Melisa Maddison/Felicity Marshall – now a suspect. Best friend of victim but lying to everyone about who she is.
Zoe stepped back and leant on the table. She stared at the list and tried to make sense of it. She wanted to rule Melisa out as she was not in the country at the time.
Or was she? She had lied about other things – what’s not to say that she isn’t lying about her alibi.
Zoe picked up the phone on the desk.
“I need you to verify if a Felicity Marshall or Melisa Maddison travelled to Saint Vincent any day last week,” she said to the Indexer over the phone. “Her details are all in the report. I need this ASAP, thanks.”
Her eyes went back to the board.
The details. The truth was always hidden in the details and every detail meant something. The fewer details the less chance of discovering the truth.
Everything pointed to The Sailor – a serial killer who takes pride in his executions. He tries not to make a mess, cause too much pain – a calm and collected psychopath.
This wasn’t him. She knew it. She could feel it. And it wasn’t Melisa – she was a liar but not a killer. She had no motive. She couldn’t imagine it was her uncle Michael, he knew about the stolen parts and was a criminal, but did he murder his niece? She didn’t think so. Which left Norman – like a bad cliché, the weird, antisocial obsessed guy would be the obvious suspect. And that’s why it couldn’t be him either. Not in Zoe’s head anyway.
There’s someone else that should be on that list — someone they had missed entirely.
“You’re overthinking it,” DCI Harold popped his head into the room.
“Sir,” She said and stopped leaning against the table. Overthinking was what she did. That was her thing. The bittersweet thing that made her both succeed and fail at her job.
“How’s it going?” Harold asked as he walked in and stood next to her.
They both stared at the board with the list of suspects.
“That good aye?”
“Yup,” she smiled. “Nick’s bringing someone in for questioning now,”
“OK. But I’m not talking about Nick.”
“Sir, the investigation is—”
“I’m not talking about the investigation.”
Zoe didn’t like where this was going. It would be a typical we’re worried about you but really meant we hope you’re not going to do something stupid.
“If you’re referring to how I’m doing,” she replied, “then I’m fine, thanks, sir. Things are just fine.”
“That’s great,” he smiled, “Nick tells me that you’ve been working hard on this investigation and have made some important discoveries.”
“He’s exaggerating. I’ve just noticed and pointed out a few things that don’t add up.”
“That’s the mark of a good detective,” He then walked towards the door, “Making them add up… well, that’s the mark of a great detective.” He left.
Make them add up. Easier said than done. So far, nothing was adding up.
Her phone buzzed.
“Zoe Hall,” she answered.
“Ma’am, we have the address for Melisa Maddison she’s staying on campus in the UCL university student halls of residence.”
“That’s great,” she scribbled the address of the university in her notebook, then jumped into Nick’s chair and moved the mouse to wake the computer. Before she could look up the university halls’ address, she saw the desktop wallpaper – Nick and presumably his wife, Stacey, stood at a beach. She was smiling and wrapped tightly in his arms. She wasn’t how Zoe imagined her. At least a foot shorter than Nick with long brunette hair. For reasons, she couldn’t explain, her heart sunk to her ankles.
She wasn’t jealous, or at least she didn’t think she was. She wasn’t… was she? No! That’s ridiculous. The urge to look through his images folder almost took over her. She suddenly felt like a reformed addict about to relapse. The adrenaline to look up Melisa’s address faded, and she felt fatigued and demotivated.
“Zoe,” Nick said as he marched in through the door, “There you are,”
“Where else would I be?” she said, pretending she was looking at the papers on the desk and not about to snoop through his computer.
“We’re going to interview Mrs Hyde in an hour or so.”
“By we, you mean Marcus and Vivian?” she glanced up at him. He looked different from the picture on his computer. It was as if he had aged. Not in a bad way. Some people age well – time is gentle on their skin and on their bones. He happened to be one of those lucky devils.
“No, I mean us,” he said.
“What happened to Marcus and Vivian being the best interviewers and all that?” She swivelled the chair to face him.
“I need you to take the lead on Mrs Hyde. She’s hiding something – covering for her son. You’re good with the details.”
She didn’t respond and stared at the wall for a moment. She was good with the details, but she felt exhausted. On any other day she would be badgering him for them to take the lead – the one day it was handed to her on a plate, she would happily let Marcus and Vivian devour it.
“What’s on your mind?”
“The Café,” she responded without hesitation. She wanted to get out of the office – away from the
station – away from all the noise.
Nick looked at his watch and then smiled.
“We got a few minutes. Come on, grab your coat. My treat.”
Chapter 23
The Café was as quiet as usual. If the elderly couple two tables down left, Zoe and Nick would be alone. The old couple sat silently. The man read a newspaper and the woman stared out of the window watching the world pass by. Is that how things are when you get older, you sit together yet miles apart? All talked out, no reason to communicate except for when it was unavoidable. He had his nose in the newspaper and found escape in reading lies about the world while she glared out of the window and mourned over all the things she didn’t do with her life. Was that the time you sat and regretted all the choices you made? The choices you didn’t make? And all that resided in between.
Nick got his usual, but Zoe felt a little more adventurous and went for the chocolate mocha. She was glad she did – it tasted great — the right mixture of everything. The right mix was an overload of chocolate and milk and a hint of strong coffee. In most people’s books, this would be wrong and overwhelming, but Zoe, this hit the spot. Heated up the insides and loaded enough coal to fuel the engine for a few hours.
“I got the address for Melisa Maddison,” Zoe said, breaking the silence.
“OK,” he slurped his drink, “We’ll send a couple of uniforms to pick her up.”
“Arrest her?”
“Ask her politely,” he winked.
“I’m not sure how important she is to the investigation but if she is hiding something, anything with regards to Sarah Fowler, we need to know.”
“I don’t think she had anything to do with it,” Nick opened a packet of brown sugar.
“What makes you say that?”
“I don’t know… she came in of her own accord. Twice. She demanded we do something to catch the killer. Doesn’t seem like the characteristics of someone who’s involved in the murder.”
“I agree,” Zoe said, “I think we should question her anyway. She might know something without knowing she knows it.”
“That’s deep,” Nick remarked. She wasn’t sure whether it was a feeble attempt at sarcasm or whether he was genuinely impressed. Either way, it annoyed her. Being annoyed and irritated was her default position. That’s why she was better off alone. Almost everything annoyed her. The weather, regardless of how it was – rain, sunshine or anything in between. Nothing on TV, or something good but she had wasted time watching it. People slurping their drink, she thought as she bit her tongue listening to Nick slurp. There was no way out of it. She was impossible to be around in any setting other than at work – even that was becoming a problem.
“What about CCTV?” Nick asked.
“Glad you asked,” she said. “They found a possible match for our guy. He was spotted in Russell Square and used the cashpoint outside the Imperial Hotel.”
“Perfect. Are you looking into the bank and card details?”
“The team is on it.”
Nick picked up a breadstick from the jar on the table and clenched it using his teeth.
“I love it when a plan comes together,” he made a face as if he was expecting her to laugh or say something. “The A-Team? The famous line from Hannibal Smith? No?”
“No,” she shook her head, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Only the greatest show to have ever been aired in the 80’s.” He shook his head, “Kids! Honestly,” And then started biting through the breadstick. He stopped abruptly and made a face of disappointment, “Stale. Incredibly stale.”
That did make her chuckle.
Nick’s phone buzzed on the table. Zoe couldn’t help but to glance at the screen.
“Incoming call, Stacey.”
Nick’s face changed. He sat up straight and looked more serious.
“You not going to answer that?” Zoe asked, eyebrows raised.
“Erm… yes, I am,” he smiled and then answered the phone.
“Hey,” he said in a voice Zoe hardly recognised. It was soft and vulnerable. She felt that sinking feeling again.
“Just at the office,” he said, “Not sure… will be late. Sorry… Of course, I will,” He nodded as if she could see him through the phone, “Me too. Bye.”
Zoe pretended to be looking through the paperwork she had brought with her. Pretending that she wasn’t attentively listening to the conversation, pretending she didn’t notice his voice change, pretending she wasn’t guessing what his wife was saying and pretending she didn’t notice that he had lied to his wife about being in the office when really, he was here, with her.
“So,” he said in his normal voice, “what are your thoughts about Michael Fowler? We haven’t discussed him much?”
“Not sure about him,” she said, “His lawyer’s got him out on bail for the stolen car parts – he’s not even entertaining the other allegations.”
Nick sighed and then slurped his drink.
It was strange that Zoe did not want to talk about the case. She was hoping he would make small talk. The weather, television, she would even be happy talking about something she had no interest in, like sports. But he didn’t. Probably too scared from her adolescent outburst the last time he tried to talk to her about something other than work.
“Nick,” she said faintly, “I wanted to… The other day in the car, when you were trying to advise me… I’m sorry I snapped.”
Nick put his cup down and looked directly into her eyes.
“It’s fine. It was my fault; I overstepped the line.”
“No, it was a crazy overreaction and shouldn’t have happened. You were right, I do need to do other things and I think I have a seriously unhealthy relationship with work.”
“Sickening,” Nick chuckled, “It’s fine. It takes a while to balance this thing we call life and no one’s perfect and no one’s life is perfect.”
“My life’s a lot less than perfect – it’s a mess,” Zoe said, not making eye contact.
“It’s not a mess – things just seem like that. I think once you figure things out, you’ll be fine. You’re young; you’re…” he paused. Her heart raced in anticipation for the few milliseconds that he hesitated, “Smart,” he smiled almost in relief. “You’ve got so much to look forward to yet.”
She was used to hearing things like this from her mother, and she used to believe them but not anymore.
“Before I came to the Met, I dated a guy who I thought I would be with for the rest of my life,” she wasn’t sure why she was telling Nick this and wanted to stop talking but couldn’t. “He was charming, confident and had me running around him like he was a Rockstar.” She sipped her drink trying to hide behind her cup. “He seemed too good to be true – and he was. Turned out I wasn’t the only woman in his life.”
She felt guilty as she saw Nick’s face turn red with nerves.
“He cheated on you,” Nick said in a soft, sympathetic voice.
“Not exactly,” She shook her head, “I was the woman he was cheating on his wife with!”
“Oh,” Nick said, looking lost for words. She didn’t know why but being that person felt so much worse. She was being cheated on, technically. She was part of the cheating. Part of a process of wrecking a marriage. She waited for Nick to give her a disapproving stare, but he didn’t. He looked startled but not judgemental.
“I was the bit on the side,” she played with her fingers, “The mistress… and you know the worst part about it was that when I found about his wife and two children, I still didn’t want to let him go. I couldn’t; I’m not sure if I have even now.”
“Zoe, listen to me, there’s a big world out there – we tend to make it small with our minds, and this often stops us from moving forward. Not everyone is like James – I promise you.”
Zoe leant back in her chair and tilted her head.
“What?” Nick said, “Did I say something wrong?”
“How did you know his name was James?”
“You must have mentioned it just now,” he said dismissively and slurped his tea.
“I didn’t mention his name. I know I didn’t.”
“You must have. How else would I know?” His cheeks began to glow.
“The thing I’ve always liked about you Nick is that you’re a terrible liar. Meant I could trust you. But you’re lying, I can sense it from you. You knew his name.”
In a sudden rush, she gathered the papers and stood up.
“Zoe, wait!” Nick said and stood up. “Your mother told me about James and what happened.” He said in defeat.
“You what?!” she said loud enough for the old couple to turn their heads. She then lowered her voice, “You’ve been talking to my mother… about me?!” She felt as if a volcano were about to erupt in her stomach. “How do you even know my mother?” she gasped.
“No, look it wasn’t anything like that…”
“Like what?”
“It wasn’t like we were talking about you. She called the station at a time you were out. I introduced myself, and we got talking. She seemed like a lovely woman, and she told me that she was worried about you and told me about James.” He gestured for her to sit down, “Please, take a seat,” She sat back on the chair, but her body was stiff in shock. “Look, I’m sorry, I should have told you,”
“Yes,” she said, “You should have!”
“Sorry, but she was worried about you.”
“I don’t need anyone worrying about me – especially not her. So, what else did she tell you about me?”
“Nothing. Just that you and James were dating, and you kept it a secret from her up until you realised, he was married. Then you spoke to her, and she advised you to end it.”
“Typical mother,” Zoe said, “Everything is so simple in her mind. Just end it. Pretend it never happened – pretend I never felt anything.”
“I’m sure she was just looking out for you.”
