But he had simply looked at her and walked away.
His words still echoed through her brain, the world slowed, the sun was less bright, and everything her eyes could see was imprinted in Julie’s mind, coming back again and again to haunt her.
She leaned against the window-frame of a tartan shop, closed her eyes and saw once more – the young lovers sprawled on the grass; the elderly couple walking past, his stick clicking on the path; the boy kicking his ball; the baby in the pram; the sparrow picking at a crust; the tiny spider climbing a blade of grass – Dave walking away from her.
Rummaging in her bag for her mobile phone, she flicked it open and dialled Adrian’s number. ‘I won’t be coming in to the Gallery tomorrow,’ she said. ‘I’m going to Dundee.’
***
Julie felt as if she had been in a trance since the policewoman broke the news to her. Time passed slowly and the night seemed endless.
She slid into that dark place she thought she had left behind, where the pain inside her had been so great the only thing that relieved it was the physical pain she inflicted on herself with a knife – carving her arms over and over again, then picking at the scabs that formed to prevent the cuts from healing.
The psychologist who counselled her had explained that the physical pain from self-harming was something she used to mask the torment inside her and that the only way to stop would be to find a replacement for that physical pain.
It made sense, so she started going to the gym, punishing her body with a drastic exercise regime. But it was when she started running that things gradually grew better. She ran and ran until she broke through the pain barrier. Then she pushed further until she thought she was on the brink of death.
That was when she started to come to terms with her inner anguish and became calmer. She stopped cutting herself and started to lead a comparatively normal life again, although the ache for Dave was still there.
But the pain had returned, taking her back to that dark place, and now she was in Dundee harbouring thoughts of vengeance against the woman she held responsible for Dave’s death. How she had got there was a blank. She could not remember going to the station, getting on the train, nor even how she got to Dave’s flat. But here she was, sitting in his living room and talking to his landlady.
The woman sighed. ‘Such a sad time for you,’ she murmured.
Julie nodded, although she had not taken in the sense of the words. Her feelings were too raw.
‘If there’s anything I can do?’
‘There is one thing,’ Julie said, and then hesitated because she did not know where the idea had sprung from, nor did she know if it was what she wanted. ‘Can I keep the flat on?’ There it was, out in the open, whether she wanted to or not. ‘Just for a short time,’ she added.
The woman hesitated. ‘That’s a bit awkward,’ she said. ‘You see I’ve promised it to the girl upstairs. She’s got a young baby and she finds the stairs difficult,’ her voice tailed off. ‘I can let you have her flat, if you like. It’s the same as this one, two rooms with a curtained off kitchen area.’
Julie nodded. The ghost of Dave would probably haunt her if she stayed in this flat. Upstairs would be better. ‘That’s very kind,’ she said.
‘When do you think you can move his belongings,’ the woman, clearly embarrassed, looked away from Julie. ‘It’s just that I have to let the girl upstairs know when she can move in.’
‘Probably within a week, two at the most,’ Julie said, ‘will that suit your arrangements?’
‘Yes, that will be fine,’ the woman said. ‘I’ll leave the inventory here so you know what to leave behind.’ She looked round the room. ‘He doesn’t appear to have any furniture of his own so the flat shouldn’t be too difficult to clear.’ She shifted her feet, restlessly. ‘I’ll leave you to it then.’
‘Yes,’ Julie said.
After the woman left, Julie sat in the ancient moquette armchair. This was where Dave sat, she thought, running her hand over the chair arm. A puff of dust flew upwards, tickling her nose, making her sneeze.
She pushed herself out of the chair, raising another dust cloud. It would not take long to pack his belongings. He did not have much, only his clothes. He had never returned to collect all the other things he had left behind in Edinburgh, which was why she had always been so sure he would come home.
Tears gathered in her eyes, forcing themselves past her eyelids to trickle down her cheeks. Why did he have to do something so stupid? Why didn’t he just come home? Things could have been sorted out.
But it had been beyond sorting. She had known that for months.
She remembered the parting. ‘Why do you have to go?’ she had shouted, unable to control her voice.
‘It’s no use,’ he’d said. ‘We can’t go on like this. It’s not honest.’
‘You’re the one who’s cheating.’
He had just looked at her and walked away.
‘She’s not worth it,’ she had screamed after him, but he had not heard her. Now she could not even say, ‘I told you so.’
Julie laid a suitcase on the unmade bed. She opened it and started to pack his clothes: two suits, four shirts, four ties, seven pairs of socks. He had always liked fresh socks, couldn’t bear to wear the same socks two days running. Two pairs of shoes, seven boxer shorts, he had never liked briefs. No pyjamas.
He had always worn pyjamas with her, except for the honeymoon period. Tears gathered in her eyes. He must have still been in the honeymoon period when he’d had that last argument with Nicole.
The photograph of Nicole lay, beside its smashed frame and shards of glass, on the table. Julie’s eyes kept flicking past it, willing it not to be there. She did not want to see it, but it would not go away.
She snapped the locks of the suitcase shut then roamed the flat, checking the inventory, and making sure she had not left anything of Dave’s behind.
But there was still the photograph.
She sat on the edge of the bed and stared at it. Her hand reached out and picked it up, shaking the fragments of glass free. If it had not been for this woman, Dave would still be alive. The beginning of a plan started to formulate in her head. Nicole was not going to get away with stealing someone else’s husband and driving him to his death. Julie was going to make sure she paid.
She slipped the photograph into her pocket. When it was all over, when she had done what she had to do, she would burn it.
CHAPTER FIVE
Chief Inspector, Andy Turnbull toyed with a pencil. ‘You’re sure it was suicide?’
‘I’m as sure as anyone could be. It looked as if he’d tied the rope to the banister and then thrown himself over.’
‘Forensic results?’
‘Nothing suspicious there.’
‘What about the post-mortem?’
‘It just confirmed what I’d already surmised.’
‘And the Procurator Fiscal?’
‘He agrees. He’s not pursuing it any further.’
Andy tapped the open file with his pencil. ‘Any joy trying to trace the mystery woman?’
‘No. Apparently they had a ding-dong of a row that all the neighbours heard. But he was still alive after she left. According to them he was swearing and kicking walls so they stayed out of the way.’
‘You sure none of the neighbours knew who she was?’
Detective Sergeant Bill Murphy nodded his head. ‘The guy on the top floor said she was a classy piece of stuff, but that’s all we know. He had a wife in Edinburgh, though, so I got the local force to inform her.’
Andy closed the brown cardboard file. ‘I guess that’s it then.’
***
Adrian had learned never to open his front door without checking who was outside, but when he looked through the peephole it took him several moments to realize that the woman standing there was Julie.
He unfastened the safety chain and pulled the door open. Then, clutching his chest in a melodramatic gesture, said, �
��Oh my! What have you done to yourself?’ He hardly recognized his voice as his shocked eyes took in Julie’s haggard expression, cropped hair, and supermarket jeans and sweat shirt. This was not the girl he knew. This was some stranger who inhabited her skin and had robbed her of her ebullient nature.
Julie patted the sleek, short hair clinging to her head like a brown skullcap. ‘I don’t know if Nicole has ever seen a photo of me so I needed to change my appearance.’
‘Why?’ Adrian regained control and, removing his hand from his chest, gestured for her to come in.
A blanket of misery passed across Julie’s face. ‘I don’t intend to let Nicole off with what she’s done to Dave. He didn’t deserve to die, but she does. So I’m going to Dundee for a time. Just long enough to make sure she suffers.’
Adrian stepped back from the look on Julie’s face, then took hold of her elbow and guided her into the flat. ‘That’s silly. How many Julie Chalmers do you suppose there are? She’ll know who you are by your name.’
Julie laughed bitterly. ‘I’m not that stupid,’ she said. ‘I’ll go back to my own name. I’ll be Julie Forbes.’
‘It’s a pity you hadn’t become Julie Forbes when Dave left you.’
‘He was going to come back to me.’
‘You wish.’
‘He was. I know it. Why else would he phone me to say so?’ A tear rolled down Julie’s cheek. ‘We’d loved each other for such a long time – ever since we were at school together – and love like that just doesn’t die.’
Adrian sighed. It was obvious to him that Dave had moved on, but Julie had stayed put. And because of that, she was in pain.
‘Come in and sit down for a while, love. You’ll feel better after a glass of wine. I’ve got a rather decent Chablis chilling.’
Julie perched on the edge of the pink brocade sofa twirling the glass between her fingers. She had accepted the glass of wine to please him, but she did little more than wet her lips with it. Much as she liked Adrian, she never felt comfortable in his flat. It was too plush, too ornate, too feminine.
‘This is not the best idea you’ve ever had.’ Adrian sat cross-legged in front of her. His silk pyjamas were a shade darker than the carpet.
‘Are you listening to me?’
‘What?’
‘I said – this is not the best idea you’ve ever had.’ Adrian frowned. ‘If you want more time off then by all means take it. Sam can fill in at the gallery. He’s in between shows at the moment.’
Sam was Adrian’s partner. He had just finished a long run at the Playhouse where he’d had bit parts in several musicals.
‘How much time?’
‘Take a few months, relax, have a holiday. Whatever. You’ll soon feel better. After all, you can’t be sure Dave was coming back to you, and given a bit of time you’ll get over him.’
Adrian was just stating a fact, but his words seared into Julie’s brain and she had to take several breaths before she could speak again.
‘That’ll give me time to do what I have to.’
Adrian groaned. ‘Not a good idea.’
‘It won’t take long. And if I’m in Dundee it’ll just be like a holiday.’
The stubbornness in her voice convinced Adrian she would not be deflected from her purpose.
‘I doubt that,’ Adrian said drily. ‘I don’t know what you intend to do, but it doesn’t sound good. However, I can see that nothing I say will change your mind.’
Julie laid her wine glass on the coffee table and stood up. ‘I’ll phone you now and then to let you know what’s happening.’
Adrian opened the door for her. ‘Take care.’ He stood there for a long time looking down the stairwell before sighing and closing the door. Despite his concern, over what she was planning to do, Julie was a decent person and he hoped she would come to no harm.
***
Julie’s determination did not waver until she moved to Dundee on a thundery August afternoon. Lightning split the skies as if nature itself was admonishing her, while the torrential rain not only soaked her, but also dampened her spirits.
Wet, weary and dispirited she looked round the flat she had been so desperate to rent, and wondered what she was getting herself into. How would she ever settle in this bare, dingy place that she now had to call home? Wrapping her arms round her body, she shivered. The only time she had ever felt anything like this damp, clingy cold was when she had been standing beside Dave’s grave.
Thoughts and memories of Dave haunted her even though this had not been his flat, for she only had to look at the floor to imagine him in the one downstairs. Her hand tightened on her damp handkerchief as a fresh wave of tears threatened to overwhelm her. She could not back out of her plan; she had to go through with it. She owed it to Dave.
But the plan was little more than a desire to punish Nicole for causing Dave’s death, and how she was going to go about it was less clear. She supposed that the first thing to be done was to meet Nicole and become her friend – that was a laugh – get the woman to trust her, and once that was done she would be in a better position to exact vengeance.
Finding Nicole had been as easy as finding the High Street department store, Patrick Drake’s, where she worked. The store was massive, so it was quite easy for Julie to hang around, watching and waiting for Nicole.
For three weeks Julie followed her – in the store, around the town, and back and forth to the car park. Julie’s only regret was that she had sold her own car as well as Dave’s. Damn, she wished Dave had told her Nicole lived in the country, but it was too late, both cars were gone, and she would need all her money now she was no longer working.
Meeting Nicole was slightly more difficult. It wasn’t as if the woman was a sales girl, she was a director of the firm. How did one go about meeting directors? Particularly a woman like Nicole, who had little time for female colleagues.
The idea, when it came, seemed so simple. It would be risky, and it might not work, but it was worth a try. And, if it did not work, the most it would cost would be her life – and that no longer had any value now that Dave was gone.
***
Nicole was feeling more vulnerable than usual when she arrived at the store. Scott had been particularly nasty that morning, undermining her confidence with his sarcastic wit, which was always at her expense.
It was at times like this that the burden of guilt over Dave’s death was most acute. When she broke up with him she had never imagined he would be so foolish as to take his own life. Nor had she imagined how much she would miss him.
Bracing herself, she entered the store through the revolving doors of the main entrance and strode through the ground floor display area. It was time to assert her authority as assistant director.
‘Who is responsible for this display?’ Nicole turned to the floor manager. ‘It’s the work of an amateur. Get it sorted.’
‘Yes, Mrs Ralston. I’ll see to it right away.’ He snapped his fingers at a salesgirl. ‘You heard Mrs Ralston,’ he said. ‘See to it.’
Nicole stifled a smile and walked away. There had been nothing wrong with the display, but exerting her authority helped boost her self esteem.
She took the lift to the executive floor, deposited her briefcase and ventured out again. There was nothing to be gained by skulking in her office feeling sorry for herself, and the only way to keep staff on their toes was by regular inspections. Working her way down, from the top of the store to the bottom, she ended up at the restaurant on the basement floor. ‘The coffee wasn’t up to your usual standard this morning,’ she said to Betty who was in charge. ‘See that it’s better tomorrow.’
Betty continued to wipe the servery top. ‘That’s probably because I had to keep an eye on the grocery floor as well. When are you going to get a locum manager while Karen’s off ill?’
Nicole frowned and her self esteem plummeted. Betty never gave her the respect that was her due, but she had been with Drake’s for a long time and it would be difficult
to get rid of her. ‘It’s in hand,’ she said brusquely. She wasn’t about to tell Betty that the only people who had applied so far had been worse than useless.
‘Hmmph,’ Betty grunted. ‘I’ve heard that before.’
‘Just concentrate on your job and leave me to do mine.’ Nicole stalked off through the grocery aisles. It was just as she reached the swing doors to the exit that she felt the prickle at the back of her neck. The feeling she was being watched. She swung round expecting to see Betty glaring after her. But no one was there.
***
Julie swung the Marks and Spencer bag containing the thick padded jacket that, in normal circumstances, she would never have bought. She thought it would cushion the blow.
She had been trying hard not to think about the risk she was about to take and what the result might be. But now, her hand gripped the carrier bag with unnecessary force and thoughts about what she intended to do filled her mind. She broke out in a sweat. The plan was madness. She should give up before it went any further.
Her feet slowed as she neared Dock Street and her destination. She stopped at the pavement’s edge across the street from the car park. It wasn’t too late to change her mind. She could turn right and head for Tayside House or retrace her steps up Commercial Street. Closing her eyes for a moment she pictured Nicole’s face and smug smile. If she gave up now Nicole would never pay for what she had done to Dave. So, wiping her hands on her jeans, she forced herself to cross the road. She could not turn back now. It was the only way.
The car park covered a large area of ground which was partially beneath the approach roads to the Tay Bridge. Most of it was in the open, but there was a smaller area at the rear which included some parking spaces underneath the road and beyond that a central grassy part with park benches. The furthest away spaces gradually reduced in height as the road above descended from the bridge, until only smaller vehicles or motorbikes could use them.
She sidestepped as a car darted out from the exit, narrowly missing her and the oncoming traffic before it sped up the slip road to the Dock Street dual carriageway. It would have been ironic if she had been hit here. The driver in the next car raised his eyebrows in an unspoken question, but she shook her head and hurried towards the spaces under the bridge’s approach road.
Night Watcher Page 3
