Unravel a Crime - Tangle With Women

by Neil Wild

  No, first he would try and see Mel, and discuss what the situation was there. There was no point in discussing all his problems with Mel. She would simply leave him to make his own decision. That’s right. See Mel first, and take it from there. Only he didn’t know where she was. In the confusion of last weekend, he had forgotten to ask her. She had said that she would come and see him. Perhaps she would get in touch. How? For some reason he had never given her his number. Mel had no transport and the public transport in Milton Keynes was non existent. Shit.

  He pulled in the drive of the Furzton house. He felt sad that there was no Mel to welcome him there. He tugged his bag out of the car and unlocked the door.

  On the table in the hallway where no doubt Trevor or Martin had put them, there was some post. He glanced at it and saw two letters addressed to him. One had a typed envelope; the other was addressed in a scrawly writing. Mel!

  He dropped his bag and tore the handwritten envelope open. It was from Mel. The message was simple, but what he wanted.

  “Come and see me anytime Saturday. Missing you.”

  The address was one in Netherfield. He grimaced a little to himself. Netherfield was one of the first estates to be built in the new Milton Keynes, over a period of 5 years in 1972. It was well laid out with avenues and tree lined boulevards, but the houses had been built with wooden frames and aluminium cladding. To say that parts of the estate were downmarket was being polite.

  He knew that many of the houses had been bought off the old Milton Keynes Development Corporation, and were in private ownership. Many were let out. The rents were relatively cheap. That’s why Mel had gone there. Still, it was Mel whom he was going to see; not the house. He wondered if her own kids were there yet.

  The other envelope had a Milton Keynes postmark. It wouldn’t be important, so he collected his bag and went up to his room. He sat down on the bed and opened the letter. It was from the same firm of solicitors to whom he had recommended Mel. His blood froze as he read it.

  “Dear Sir,

  Re: Your former wife and yourself.

  We have been consulted by your former wife, Sophia in connection with the financial arrangements for herself and your two children, Kirstin and Daisy.

  As you are aware the financial arrangements at the time of your divorce were dictated by the fact that you had been made a bankrupt, and your former matrimonial home had to be sold to enable your share of the net proceeds of sale to go towards meeting your debts.

  Because of your long period of unemployment, our client has used her share of the net proceeds of sale in support of Kirstin and Daisy and Kirstin’s school fees..

  As you are further aware, at the time of the financial arrangements our client was granted £0.05 per annum maintenance because there are two young children, and in order to preserve her rights to full financial relief.

  We are instructed that our client’s circumstances have now change drastically, and she is now living with the two children in her parents property in Milton Keynes.

  This is only a temporary measure and our client now needs secure accommodation for herself and the children.

  We understand that you are in full time employment as a solicitor, and are now able to make a significant financial contribution.

  Our client instructs us that she would wish to settle matters amicably if at all possible. Would you therefore within the next 10 working days let us have full details of your current income and expenditure for us to consider, and at the same time let us have your proposals for maintenance of your former wife and the children.

  Finally our client feels that the children require a more structured contact with you, and would like to make the arrangements for contact, which have hitherto been on an ad hoc basis, more defined.

  We understand that you cannot offer the children overnight accommodation yourself, and that you work some distance away from Milton Keynes. She therefore proposes that contact take place for a half day every alternate Saturday from 2.00pm to 5.00pm, and on the alternate Sundays from 10.00am to 5.00pm, thus allowing our client some respite. In addition, and provided that she is satisfied with the arrangements, our client will agree to your taking the children on holiday for 2 weeks every year. We trust that this is acceptable.

  Yours Faithfully.”

  Brakespeare started to shake, and then felt sick. He rushed to the bathroom and retched. There was nothing but bile. He went back to his room and lay on the bed. The sobs came easily.

  For half an hour he lay there, his head buried in the wet and salty pillow.

  The bitch. The fucking two faced bitch. All she was after was his money. That’s what was behind the basque and the shaven pussy.

  Fuck. After she had been shacked up with Tony for 6 months he could have had the nominal maintenance for her cancelled. Why hadn’t he done so? Because he trusted her he supposed. The mother of his two children.

  She was also using the old trick of restricting his contact with the children as a lever to get money. The letter did not spell that out of course. Such letters never did, but he knew from his professional experience that if he did not pay what she wanted, there would be difficulties over seeing the kids. Even the Courts could do little in such circumstances.

  She had totally betrayed him. Again.

  That was the worst of it. The feeling of betrayal. Twice in a lifetime.

  He sobbed some more.

  Gradually his emotion was spent, and he sat on the edge of the bed, feeling drained; his head cupped in his hands, staring at the floor.

  There was a tap at the door.

  “Hello?”

  Trevor’s head came round the door.

  “You all right, Jonny?”

  Brakespeare tried not to look at him. His eyes were bound to be blood shot.

  “Just a little set back. Nothing that can’t be sorted out.”

  “Good. I’m off again. Martin’s not in. The house is yours for the weekend. Cheers.”

  Well that was something; he could bring Mel back.

  He suddenly felt terribly tired. He didn’t feel hungry. Slipping off his clothes he climbed into bed, and gradually sleep rescued him from his depression.

  chapter forty six

  The next morning, Brakespeare felt much better for his sleep. In fact he was quite excited at the thought of seeing Mel again. He tried to put thoughts of Sophie and her solicitors out of his mind. He knew that she would be waiting for a telephone call or even a visit from him. He was not going to give her the pleasure of feeling that she had him under her control. If that meant not seeing the kids; well so be it.

  He also tried to put thoughts of the Newberry case behind him; even thoughts of Lisa.

  He could not in all seemliness see Mel until about 10.00 am, and so having made himself some cereal and toast for breakfast, he idled about and watched morning television to distract his brain until it was time to go.

  He was excited when, at just before 10 o’clock he was able to climb into the Fiat and start the 5 minute drive to Netherfield. The estate was built on the American grid system. He found the vertical road on which the address was situated, and managed to find a parking space nearby.

  He was relieved to see that unlike some of it’s neighbours the house looked well maintained. The garden at the front consisted of a lawn that needed cutting, and some shrubs.

  Full of anticipation he knocked on the front door. He could not see a knocker or a bell. He heard the sound of running feet; the sound of chains being unlatched and the door was opened slowly. A little black boy grinned up at him. This was not quite the reception that he had expected.

  “Hello, is your Mum in?”

  The little boy said nothing, but looked back into the gloomy depths of the house.

  “Who’s that?” Mel shouted from somewhere.

  “It’s me, Jonny.” he shouted back.

  “Come in”

  “Can I come in?” Brakespeare asked the little boy.

  Still grinning, but
without uttering a word the little boy ran off to the back of the house. Brakespeare let himself in, and shutting the front door behind him, walked to the back of the house and to the kitchen/diner where Mel was changing the nappy of a little girl on the work surface.

  The interior of the house looked tired. Mel’s cheap furniture looked the same way too. The kitchen was untidy and had a smell to it that Brakespeare thought it best not to enquire about.

  “Hiya, honey.” Mel leaned towards him, offering her cheek for a kiss.

  Brakespeare obliged. Mel pulled up the child’s over panties, and put her on the floor.

  She put a soiled diaper into a pedal bin and went to the sink to wash her hands.

  The little boy clung to her leg and the little girl crawled towards her. As she approached the little boy tried to push the girl away with his foot.

  “Cleveland, how many times do I have to tell you not to do that?” Shouted Mel, shaking him by the arm. She bent down and picked the little girl up.

  “Welcome to domestic bliss, honey.” she said to Brakespeare.

  “So this is it?” Brakespeare gestured about him.

  “I got my kids” Mel said quietly.

  The little boy now stood in front of Brakespeare, staring at him arrogantly.

  “Cleveland, don’t do that!” shouted Mel again. “This is your Uncle Jonny.”

  “How do you do, Cleveland”. Brakespeare bent down and offered the boy his hand.

  The child did not take it but went back to his mother, clutching her leg once more.

  “You got the car, Jonny?”

  “Yes why?”

  “Could you do me a big favour. I got my Social money. Can you take us to Sainsbury’s in Bletchley, so I can do my weekly shop?”

  “Yes of course.”

  Cleveland seemed excited about the prospect of a ride in a car. Mel put him in the front seat and sat in the back with the little girl.

  “What’s her name again?” asked Brakespeare.

  “Chelsea”.

  “Nice name”, Brakespeare muttered.

  He endured three quarters of an hour in the Supermarket with Mel and the children. Half the time he was looking out to see if there was anyone he knew, so that he might avoid them. The other half was spent rescuing Cleveland from various adventures. Mel’s shouted reprimands to the boy punctuated the visit.

  He drove the family back to Netherfield. Cleveland’s excitement now involved his experimenting with the controls on the dashboard. In the confined space of the Fiat, Mel’s shouts to him seemed very loud.

  He helped her unload the car and stood in the kitchen while she unpacked her bags.

  “Thanks Jonny, that was a great help.” she said. The children by now were watching the television in the lounge, and Mel came forward to embrace him.

  Brakespeare opened his lips to kiss her and was relieved when she responded. He put his hand on her hips and pulled her close to him, pressing her against his groin.

  Mel pushed him away, giggling. “No, Jonny, not now. The kids will hear.”

  “When then?”

  “I don’t know Jonny. When I can get someone to look after the kids.”

  He looked at her eyes. She seemed happy. Happy with her children. The previous slightly desperate look in her eyes had gone; her libido quenched by domesticity.

  Brakespeare felt depressed. He knew inwardly that the passionate relationship was over. The need to feel loved and wanted that had fuelled them both, had been satisfied in Mel by her children.

  In a way he was relieved. He just could not see himself living with her in this house with those children – or any house.

  “OK. We’ll take a rain check. Have you got a paper and pencil? Here’s my number.

  Mel’s eyes brightened.

  “We’ll do that Jonny, we’ll do that.”

  “Right, I’ve got things to do then. Be in touch.”

  Mel gave him a soft kiss on his lips.

  “Be in touch, “ she replied. “And Jonny?, “Thanks for everything.”

  chapter forty seven

  The rest if the weekend was miserable for Brakespeare. He was determined not to have any contact with Sophie. He wanted to call Lisa, but realised that he had not taken any contact number for her.

  He was more than happy when Monday morning dawned. He realised that he had not considered how he was going to get the car back to Worcester. He decided to leave it at the house, and caught an early taxi to the station. He then treated himself to the luxury of another taxi to the Court as it seemed impossible to get anywhere by Tube in South London.

  He arrived to find Lisa already there and in deep conversation with Rosemary Lappin.

  “Good morning both.” he said, walking up to them.

  “Ah Jonny, good morning.” replied Lappin. Lisa smiled.

  “Anything I can help with?”

  “No, I think we’re all ready. The Prosecution have agreed the bundles, so there are no contentious matters. I’m not sure that any of their witnesses have arrived as yet. The two co-defendants have sent two very junior barristers on watching briefs. I’ve let them have copies of my skeleton argument – hope you don’t mind.”

  “No, not at all.”

  “And that’s about it really. I don’t think that I’ve ever been ready for a case so quickly and easily. You two have proved an excellent team.”

  “Our debut and swansong.” Said Lisa.

  “Oh I don’t know. When you’re called to the Bar I’m sure that Jonny will want to brief you. We’ll be in your neck of the woods, Jonny.”

  “Pardon?”

  Lappin who was more relaxed than advocates usually are before a case, smiled warmly.

  “I’m teasing you. I’ve just been explaining to Lisa, that we’ve decided in Chambers to open an annexe in Birmingham. Since the death of the old circuit system, where barristers followed judges about, work pops up everywhere. We get an awful lot in the West Midlands and so I am relocating to Birmingham to head up the annexe. Lisa will follow me.”

  “I shan’t have to move to London, thank God.” said Lisa. ”In fact I could live in Worcester or move to Birmingham.”

  “Gosh!” was all that Brakespeare could think to say.

  “It’s a funny old world.” said Lappin.

  “Sure is.” Brakespeare agreed. Then, “Oh, no.” he said in desperation. In the distance was Newberry, and on his arm was Kate Potter. Newberry caught sight of the trio and waved.

  “Can I introduce you to Mr. Newberry’s friend, Kate Potter.” said Brakespeare to Lappin.

  “How do you do?” If Lappin was as taken aback as Brakespeare, she was not showing it.”

  “Hello, Miss Lappin. Dave’s told me all about you. Hello Jonny, Hello Lisa. You two all right then?”

  Brakespeare looked at Newberry quizzically.

  “I thought I’d bring Kate. You said that there was to be no mention of her or Clearfield, so I presumed it was OK. Besides, I need some moral support.”

  “Of course”, said Lappin quickly. “She can sit in the public gallery at the back of the Court.”

  “Can’t she…”

  “Sit with us? No I’m afraid not,” Brakespeare jumped in. “Only solicitors, barristers, and in cases like this, defendants can sit in the well of the Court.”

  “It’s all right, Dave.” said Kate. “I don’t expect that I’ll be far away.”

  Lappin glanced at her watch. “Nearly time” she announced. “I think I’ll just go and make myself comfortable.” And with a telling look to Brakespeare, went into the Court room.

  Lisa came and stood next to Brakespeare. Was it his imagination or was she standing closer to him than she had done of late. He felt her hand touch his. After the weekend he felt a tingle of excitement.

  “You all right?” Lisa asked Kate.

  “Just a little nervous”, she replied and giggled. “I got to keep going for Dave. He’s been real bad this weekend.”

  “In what way?” Brakes
peare asked Newberry.

  “Can’t sleep. Can’t concentrate. Can’t do anything. It could be my imagination, but my ticker feels distinctly dodgy.” He looked at Kate who made sheeps’ eyes at him and giggled.

  “I’m sure it must be very stressful” said Lisa ”However, we’d better follow Miss Lappin into Court.

  Brakespeare indicated the public section at the rear of the Court, hardly a gallery, where Kate should sit. He Lisa, and Newberry took their places at the table behind Lappin. Brakespeare was annoyed that Newberry chose a place next between him and Lisa.

  Lappin turned round to Newberry. “Have you seen any signs of the witnesses?”

  Newberry shook his head.

  “Would you recognise Black?”

  “No, never met him as far as I know.”

  “Excuse me, Rosie,” interrupted a tall gangly looking barrister wearing a battered looking wig. “May I have a word?”

  “Hello, Andy. Yes, of course.”

  Lappin followed him out of the court room.

  “Who’s that?” enquired Newberry.

  “Pass.” Said Brakespeare.

  “Prosecution Barrister?” asked Lisa helpfully. “One of Edwards-Mitchell’s juniors, I expect”.

  After a few minutes Lappin marched back with a grim smile on her face.

  “The C.P.S. forgot to warn any witnesses to attend. They want the case put back. Do you want to wait a couple of hours until your two colleagues and Mr Black arrive?”

  “Well, no, not really.” said Newberry, glancing over to Kate, who have him an anxious look back.

  “That’s what I thought, so we’ll have to see what the Judge says.”

  “Who was that?” asked Brakespeare.

  “Andrew Evans. He’s taking the case. It seems that Edwards-Mitchell is not going to be here today.”

  “Really. He seemed prepared to be last week.” Said Brakespeare.