“I guess I can understand that.” Gordon replied, glancing quickly at Derek and seeing that he wasn’t able to keep eye contact with his father.
“Perfect. Well, I think this has been a productive meeting. My security specialists will see you out. I’d like to have a further word with my son, so I’ll let you get back to your business, Gordon.” Harold told him. He gestured and the door opened promptly, whereupon the first of the beefy guards stepped forward to linger in the open doorway. Gordon nodded and stood up from the chair before heading out. With one last glance at Harold and Derek, Gordon focused on leaving and started towards the elevator - his pair of escorts falling in behind him. They said nothing as they boarded the elevator nor as they processed him as clear to exit the building at the security desk. Retaining their silence, they returned his weapon then escorted him outside, taking up a position at the doorway.
“Thanks for the escort. It’s really easy to get lost in there.” Gordon commented sarcastically as he walked away from them.
Once back in his car, Gordon’s mind was awash with thoughts about the meeting and the implications it might have. As he mused on this, his mind was drawn back to Isabelle and his promise to call her. Calling her to update her was the thing he should do, but when Gordon was honest with himself, he wanted to see her again. He took out his phone and saw that it was a little before five thirty, so he dialled her number. She picked up on the third ring.
“Gordon?” She questioned immediately.
“Yeah, it’s me. Listen, I’ve made a little progress that I could update you on and I was… I was just wondering if you’d eaten yet?”
Chapter Eight
Gordon picked up some Italian food from a restaurant he used to visit regularly with his family then drove to Isabelle’s home. The guard at the security station recognized him and didn’t call ahead this time; instead, he just opened the gate and waved him through. Isabelle could have phoned ahead to alert the guard or, perhaps, he simply recognized Gordon well enough to grant him entry without needing direct authorization. Either way, Gordon was happier being able to come and go with more ease. When he pulled up outside her house, Isabelle answered the door almost at once and led him through to the kitchen once more. Whether she was becoming more accustomed to his presence or she trusted him enough to tell her what he had learned without her prompting him to, Isabelle actually made an attempt at small talk.
“How are you doing?” She asked as she set out paper plates and cutlery.
“The case is--”
“No,” Isabelle interrupted, “I meant you.”
“Oh.” Gordon said in surprise. “I’m doing well… thank you for asking. How are--” Gordon caught himself before he asked what he perceived to be a stupid question. Isabelle looked at him and her lips curved in the briefest of smiles.
“I’m doing better knowing you’re out there looking into Millie’s murder.”
“I have to say, Millie was utterly devoted to her friends, but from what I’ve found out about her university days, I’m not entirely sure they deserved her.”
“What do you mean?”
With their meal dished, Gordon sat across from Isabelle, just as he had the night before, and began recounting what he’d learned. That night, Isabelle ate more and Gordon was pleased to see she served water rather than alcohol, though he did spy a partially empty bottle on the kitchen counter. Isabelle was likely dependent on the stuff, so he didn’t imagine she’d give it up entirely; Gordon himself had yet to stop delving into the bottle, so he could understand her needs. He did his best to reiterate the facts he’d gathered that day, pretty much in the order he’d learned them. Isabelle finished most of her meal and listened in rapt silence. Gordon didn’t hold anything back, even disclosing the meeting he was pulled into with Derek’s father, causing her eyes to widen in surprise. When he was completely done, she spoke.
“So, what does that mean? Is Derek’s father going to cause problems?” She wanted to know.
“He’s definitely not keen on his son being pulled into the investigation. I also have a feeling he might contact you, not directly, probably through a third party. He might offer his help, as he did with me, maybe suggesting he could have his security look into the police investigation to ensure nothing was missed. I’m pretty sure from what he said that he’s still got contacts in the police who’ll bend the rules for him, which is hardly surprising. Regardless, if he does communicate with you, I think it’s safe to assume it’s nothing more than a fishing expedition to see if I’ve uncovered anything new. In any event, I need you to stay away from him, his son and anyone they send in their stead until I figure out how to get Derek on his own. It won’t be easy, but I promise, I’ll find a way. In the meantime, just as a precaution… until we’re certain the only thing Harold is protecting is his business, I’d rather you didn’t get involved. Everything we learn must stay between the two of us.”
Isabelle nodded slowly. “I understand. But if there’s anything I can do to help, then you can be certain I will.”
“I know… but putting it bluntly, we can’t take anyone at face value right now. If we want to get to the truth, we have to suspect everyone, so until one thing or another clears someone of involvement entirely, we have to assume any action they take is in an effort to conceal the truth.”
Isabelle nodded, and then smiled in a curious way.
“Does that mean you suspect me?”
Gordon figured the question was half hearted, but answered it seriously.
“Of all the people I’ve met since I started working the case, you’re the only one I trust.”
“And why is that, Gordon?”
“Because… well, I’ve seen the same pain in your eyes I do when I look in the mirror. It’s a pain that comes from having been helpless to protect the people, or person, most important to you in the world. If you’d had anything to do with Millie’s death, even at the most peripheral level, then you’d have confessed or taken your own life by now.”
“Is… is that something you thought about doing?”
Gordon swallowed. Confronted with a question he was sure others had thought but never asked, he wasn’t entirely certain how to respond.
“On the bad days, yes.” He replied quietly.
“Me too.”
“What stopped you?” Gordon asked delicately.
“Because if I was gone, who would speak for Millie?” Isabelle questioned rhetorically. “And you?”
“She wouldn’t want me to. Jade, my wife, always said I was born to do the work I do. It was one of the things she loved about me - my unwavering pursuit of justice, she would call it. Eventually I decided that the best way to honour her was to keep doing what she loved about me.” Gordon explained, smiling despite the topic and causing Isabelle to smile too.
“Well, for what it’s worth, Gordon, I’m glad you continued working.” Isabelle told him, extending her hand across the bar. Gordon instinctively mimicked the gesture, resting his larger hand on hers and holding it for just a moment. When he realized the implied intimacy that was being shared, he quickly removed his hand and changed the topic.
“You were saying about wanting to help. I have to tell you that being able to go over what I’ve learned by talking it out with you really helps me to put things in perspective, so in your own quiet way, you are helping.” He assured her. She pulled her hand back and smiled briefly again.
“I trust you, Gordon, so I’ll do whatever you say. One thing puzzles me though; I really can’t understand why the police didn’t discover any of this.”
“I’m curious about that myself.” Gordon commented. “It could simply have been sloppy work, or it could have been because there wasn’t much to go on so Jenkins rushed to close the case. Regardless of the reason, I’m going to focus on Derek right now. I’m certain he is hiding something.”
“Do you really think Harold…” Isabelle trailed off. “Do you think Harold knows his son had something to do with Millie’
s death? Or do you think he is just trying to protect his company?”
“I’ve no idea. While I’m curious about Derek, perhaps even suspicious, we’ve got nothing to prove a connection to her death, which means we need to approach him carefully because if we make too strong a move in our dealings with him, he’ll almost certainly run and hide behind his father.”
“So, what’s your plan?”
“I’m thinking about getting his home address and seeing if I can pay him a late night visit. Not tonight, maybe tomorrow.”
“Why not tonight?”
“Because I imagine his father’s goons…. I mean, security personnel, will be keeping an eye on him. Hell, they might be doing so for a while, in which case I’ll need to ‘accidentally’ run into him somewhere.”
“It sounds like you’ve got a decent idea of what to do.”
“I’ll be honest, I’m just reacting to the situation as best I can and trying to think of the best solution in the moment. Hopefully, that way I can’t be taken too much by surprise.”
“Is that how you investigated cases when you were a cop?”
“Mostly.” Gordon responded, reaching for his water and taking a drink. “I had a… mentor, I guess you’d call him. He was my first partner, a real old school cop. Wasn’t a big fan of forensics or computers or anything like that; he used them of course, but he preferred talking to people, looking for the little gestures or changes of expression that would give a guilty person away. Paul Murphy was his name.” Gordon added. He smiled at the flash of an almost forgotten memory. “He used to say he could read a person’s face so clearly he could tell when they last took a shit… Sorry.” Gordon added a little shamefacedly.
Isabelle smiled.
“He was a good guy. He taught me the only thing that mattered was justice for the victims and their families; he’d hammer that home every case we closed and, every time we started an investigation, he taught me something new.”
“Where is he now?” Isabelle asked.
Gordon’s face darkened and he cocked his head to one side for a moment.
“Murphy went out one night to get some ice cream for his wife for their date night. Some scumbag hit the store he was in, put two in the cashier’s chest and one in Murphy’s head.”
“I’m so sorry.” Isabelle told him with quiet sincerity.
“It was a long time ago, but thanks.”
“Did they catch who did it?”
“We did, but he wasn’t arrested. He drew on us when we tracked him down and, well, he allowed us to get justice for Murphy without bothering with lawyers.”
Isabelle nodded and swallowed.
“Does it make me a bad person if I hope whoever killed Millie gets the same?”
She locked eyes with Gordon.
“Not in the slightest.”
Isabelle looked relieved. A few moments later she looked away and started clearing up.
“I can do that.” Gordon said, rising up and reaching to help, but Isabelle shook her head.
“No. You did it last night. Actually, I have no idea if there’s anything of use in there, but I found a few pictures Millie took when she was in university, she had them printed off and sent them to me. I hadn’t looked at them for a while, I couldn’t truth be told, but I found the box and figured maybe it could be of some use to you.”
“Great.” Gordon said.
“They’re in the living room. I’ll follow you through when I’m done.”
Gordon nodded and left the kitchen, glancing back and seeing that Isabelle was gazing at his retreating figure. They shared a brief look, then Gordon turned away. He made his way into the living room and saw what appeared to be a shoebox on the coffee table with a note that read: ‘Millie’s University Pics’ taped to the top. He sat down on the sofa, collected the box and opened it. Inside was a stack of a few dozen photographs. Most were of decent but not perfect quality, likely taken on someone’s cell phone rather than with a high resolution camera. As Gordon looked through them he realized that very few, if any, would be helpful. There were no pictures of just her and Derek, just Tamsin, some of Millie’s other female friends and a few group shots which included Josh and, tucked away on the end, Derek. Despite what happened between them later, it seemed they were all happy together at one time. The smiles on their youthful faces highlighting the world of possibilities that lay ahead of them. He didn’t know what they had been studying, and it was beyond the scope of his investigation to ask them what they wanted out of life, but he genuinely hoped they would achieve their goals. He even hoped, despite his disapproval about them seeing each other while Millie was in blissful ignorance, that Josh and Tamsin would be happy. It was an unusual thought as he didn’t approve in the slightest of what they had done, but perhaps, he considered, Millie’s selfless kindness had somehow bled through to him during the few days of his investigation. The more negative aspect of Gordon’s mind returned quickly, however, when he realized there was a good chance her killer, or killers, were in the group pictures.
“Anything interesting?” Isabelle asked as he came into the room. She had a glass of some kind of alcohol in each hand, and offered Gordon one as she sat close beside him.
“I don’t know.” He said, not wanting to shoot the idea down until he’d flicked through them in their entirety.
“It’s hard to imagine from those pictures that she had so much disillusionment and pain in her life. She looks so happy and unconcerned.” Isabelle commented.
“I think, generally, she was happy and unconcerned, but she also possessed a fearless loyalty to those she cared for. I doubt Tamsin was the only one she helped, and for their sake, she wouldn’t have allowed any problems they’d shared with her to show in public.”
“I still wonder why she didn’t tell me though.”
“I imagine it was to protect you.”
“Protect me?” Isabelle gasped in surprise. Gordon stopped looking at the pictures and faced her, smiling briefly.
“She had to know how much you loved her and, perhaps, thought if you knew she habitually helped her friends when they had to deal with a crisis in their lives it might make you worry. And I’m certain she loved you enough not to want you to worry.”
Isabelle smiled at him in silent appreciation of his reassuring explanation, and he returned it. Her smile lingered and Gordon couldn’t help but glance down at her lips and feel drawn to her. Suddenly realizing a situation could quickly develop which he wasn’t sure he could handle, Gordon mentally shook his head and refocused on the pictures. Isabelle leaned in a little closer, sipping at her drink, and looked at the pictures with him. It didn’t take long, and once he was through with them, he put the lid back on the box and slid it onto the table. He took up his drink and saw that Isabelle was focused on him.
“Is everything okay?” He asked.
“Everything’s fine. I just…” Isabelle trailed off.
“What is it?”
“I haven’t spent this much time with just a single person in a long time, let alone someone who believed me. It just feels nice. Like I’m not alone or crazy or… worthless.”
Her last word stung Gordon.
“You’re far from worthless.”
“It didn’t feel that way. It felt like Millie’s life didn’t matter, and as Millie was my life then if she didn’t matter, how could I?” Isabelle questioned rhetorically, sipping at her drink.
“And what about now?” Gordon asked. Her eyes locked onto his.
“Now… perhaps now I realize that not everything I thought had died inside me was truly dead. Perhaps there are parts of me that are still alive in spite of everything. Or perhaps you’ve brought parts of me to life that I thought were dead.”
As she spoke, her hand drifted to his face, brushing against the soft hair of his beard.
“You shouldn’t.” Gordon advised, even though he didn’t want to. She was beautiful and was aware of the pain he still carried deep inside. She aroused his body and his h
eart in equal measure, but at the same time he was afraid to give in to what he wanted; afraid because she reminded him too much of Jade and what they had shared together. The attachment she felt towards him could simply be one born from great loneliness and gratitude, and he refused to take advantage of her.
“Why?” She questioned; her hand lingering.
“You’re my client. It’d be unprofessional.” He informed her a little stiffly, though despite his voiced and unvoiced reasons why she shouldn’t, he made no physical effort to prevent her.
“Then stop me.” She told him simply as she leaned in.
“I don’t want to take advantage…” He trailed off as Isabelle’s lips hovered momentarily in front of Gordon’s.
“You’re not.” She whispered seductively and his waning willpower crumbled. The kiss was short and tender; making every part of his being flare with passion for the beautiful woman whose lips offered to sate the hunger she had ignited within him, so that he could think of nothing more than kissing her and holding her until he had kindled the same yearning in her. His hand reached up and caressed the side of her face. Gordon knew the time to stop had passed; their passion was now guiding them, and so he broke their kiss only long enough to take the glass from her hand and place it awkwardly on the coffee table. He bumped the television remote as he did so and became conscious of a news broadcast in the background, but at that moment, nothing mattered but the warm body of the woman pressed against him. They kissed with the intensity of new lovers; excited, passionate and eager to learn more of each other.
Gordon awoke early. He could feel Isabelle’s arm draped across his bare chest and her body at his side, and he smiled at the memory of the previous night’s pleasures. He hadn’t expected to feel as comfortable with what happened as he did, imagining the guilt he’d previously experienced after connecting with someone would overwhelm the comfort and joy he’d found. But looking at the sleeping, beautiful face of the woman at his side, Gordon realized, with Isabelle, he had started to develop real feelings before their relationship had taken the final step; perhaps that was why. In any case, he hadn’t felt this contented in a very long time. Part of him wanted to go back to sleep and preserve the wonderful mood he’d awoken to - to forget the world and its darkness for just another hour, but no matter what had happened the night before, Isabelle still needed answers. With heavy regret, Gordon began to rise from the bed, letting Isabelle’s arm fall gently back onto the sheets.
His Twisted Smile Page 12
