by Karen Botha
GILES
I may aswell be a wall flower. Paula has come round to see how Lucy is doing, so we’re all squashed into the living room. There only being one three seater sofa, I’m relegated to the blanket box in the corner.
‘Guess what happened the other day,’ Lucy directs to Paula, I’m the decoration.
‘What?’ Paula flaps her arms in front of her.
‘So, you’ve heard me talk about Michael, the master craftsman who does all those exquisite wood carving projects for the convent?’
‘Oh yeah.’
‘Well, he only turned up out of the blue.’
Paula seems unimpressed by this; she purses her lips whilst I suppose she tries to work out the significance of a regular client turning up.
‘Oh.’
Lucy is undeterred, ‘Yeah, he thought I was on holiday.’
‘Oh, OK,’ now she gets it, ‘so why did he come round?’
‘Exactly. I was sitting on the sofa, enjoying my cup of tea, and this tipper truck pulled up. When I got up to investigate, it was him.’
‘Yes, but why did he simply turn up?’ Paula asks again, shifting in her seat and becoming visibly frustrated with the slow pace of the conversation.
‘Well, it was all a bit weird, he said he’d lost my number and thought he’d get it off my sign.’
‘But you don’t have it on your sign?’ Paula queries what is obvious to both of them.
‘I know… and then, to make it worse, he said he hadn't actually lost it, but that it was on a piece of paper in his other van.’
‘So, why did he come round for your number when he knew you weren’t in? He could have waited and collected it from his other van in time for you returning from the holiday he thought you were on?’
‘Exactly my point,’ Lucy raises her voice, she’s now doing the arm flapping too.
‘Odd,’ they both chime, and as they do, both burst out laughing - together.
I note to myself that Paula hasn’t gone off expecting this guy to murder Lucy, not even a possibility of being robbed apparently, just peals of laughter. My whole body tenses in a rapid second, my jaw clenches as I try not to rock the boat.
‘Oh, my client is here,’ Lucy glances at her watch, then remembers to take it off. She leaves it on the arm of the sofa where it resides during her appointments. ‘I’ll see you two in an hour.’ On her way out, she pops her head back in, ‘She’s early, so I’ll finish early.’
Paula and I sit through a few moments of empty silence before we both try to fill it at the same time. Happy she's making some effort too, I insist she goes first.
‘I need to speak with you,’ she stares at me, unblinking.
Honestly, does this woman never give in, what’s coming won’t be good. ‘OK.’ I keep my tone steady, being as non-confrontational as possible.
‘Lucy was cheated on in the past.’ Again this is it. She doesn’t expand. At all. What are we doing, am I playing join the dots?
Again, I manage, ‘OK.’
‘I know about you and Julie.’
My skin crackles as my nerves ignite. Heat rises up the back of my neck and sears into my throbbing temples.
‘What do you mean?’ I try to buy time.
‘What I mean, is that you had an affair with your lodger whilst your wife was ill in bed,’ she states matter-of-factly, ‘Lucy won’t like that.’ My glare locks into hers, each of us tossing the other a mute look of resentment.
‘Listen, whatever nasty bits of snooping you’ve been up to, you’re way off the mark,’ I bluster.
‘Snooping? Who has been snooping? It’s been nagging at me why you're so familiar, and then it came to me. You were hanging around at the bottom of the street, way before you arrived in Lucy's massage room. So who has been snooping Giles?’
A gong strikes in my chest, pounding my cavities. My arteries push way too much blood round my body, way too fast. I ignore it.
‘You’re talking rubbish, Paula,’ I wanly hope this will stop her.
‘Oh, I've delved into all your sordid secrets, and which ever way you view this, there is no positive spin, Giles.’
‘Yeah, I bet you’ve tried real hard to put a positive spin on this for me haven’t you!’
‘Listen, you either killed your own wife because you wanted to get with your mistress which is option number one…’
I interrupt. ‘If you're so familiar with all my business, why would I do that if I broke up with her right after Steph passed - have you asked yourself that, Lady Detective?’ My heart is racing, I feel it, hear it. Every nerve is alert, ready to pass hurried messages, allowing me to respond to this vindictive woman.
She carries on undeterred as if I’ve not even spoken; ‘Option number two is that she killed Steph to try to get you for herself, have you considered that, Mister Broken Husband?’
And I hadn’t. I hadn’t considered that for a moment. I stop. Stare at her, blank.
‘That’s not a great scenario either is it and guess who’s right in the middle of it. Guess who could have avoided said actions, had he used his brain rather than less salubrious parts of his anatomy.’
She’s so sarcastic, normally I would react, but today, I just let my legs give way and slump into the sofa. My heart is still pumping, nothing else stirs whilst I consider this.
‘Would you like me to spell option number three out?’
‘What’s that?’ I’m deflated, all my energy washed-out.
‘Option number three, is that you planned this together; you and Julie. Why didn’t you tell the police when this happened that you had a lodger? Why didn’t you tell the police that you had a lover in fact? Or even that you were sleeping with your lodger?’ She has to drill it home. Has to twist that knife.
‘Hey, I was ashamed, am ashamed. You don’t want to admit to something like that the night your wife has died. You don’t want to admit to it anyway, but especially not then. And it's just, I don’t know, it erm, didn’t seem relevant.’
‘Not big on letting the police decide what is relevant then? We are seriously talking about the potential murder of the wife you say you adored, but were actually cheating on with the first person you came across.’ She spits this out, and it burns like acid.
She finally shuts up. The silence hangs whilst we both recover. She’s standing in front of the fireplace, moving up and down against the backdrop of horizontal bricks as she catches her breath. She lifts her arm to lean on the mantle displaying sweaty armpits. It pleases me that she is also upset. I’m on the brink of understanding her.
‘Look, I can see how this seems, and I like that you care so passionately about Lucy, to go to these extremes to protect her.’
She nods, acceptance to carry on.
‘The thing is though, you’re creating more complications. You’re trying to ruin something that is making her truly happy.’ Oh no, that did not go down well.
Her eyes flash and she rages. ‘How will her life be any more complicated by my actions than with a boyfriend who can’t keep it in his pants when his wife is on her sick bed? This is before we address whether you actually bumped her off yourself.’
Wow, she’s dangerous.
‘And didn’t you make a promise of honesty, at the start of this whole thing with Lucy?’
‘Yes we did, but this hasn’t ever come up, it’s not like I’m being dishonest.’
‘Well, you made your bed, you lie in it,’ she asserts more calmly.
‘What do you mean by that?’ I’m genuinely confused as to whether this is about me being a cheat, a murderer or just plain underhanded.
‘You need to come clean to Lucy,’ is all she replies.
I need to ask, ‘about what?', but decide against it, working it out seems a better option than riling her again. That will only give her more evidence to twist.
I try again, ‘If I made a mistake not telling the police about Julie, I’ll hold my hands up. I wasn’t processing details effectively, and I really didn’t con
sider it to be relevant. But, if you truly believe she had something to do with this, rather than it being you manoeuvring me away from Lucy, of course I’ll do anything to help.’ I throw her what I hope is a mocking smile.
‘Good,’ she’s firm, face still set.
‘But please, let’s not be rash.’
‘Rash! Your wife may have been murdered and you say a simple exercise in fact finding is rash. You’re not making a solid case for your innocence in all of this,’ she hisses.
‘Paula, do you even realise that Steph had a serious heart condition? Think about that before you continue your stupid goose chase. I'm starting to see you weren't the spectacular Detective you seem to consider yourself.’ I pause for breath, my hands shaking. ‘Is it because you don’t like me, or because you genuinely consider there to be foul play?’
‘Oh, I’ve not liked you from the start. You use charm as an avoidance technique. I’ve too much experience not to take that on board. But the reason I really distrust you, is because every last man on the task force who dealt with Steph's case has the same sense of who you are. That group of Coppers all thought your behaviour was off. Unlike the hundreds of other grieving partners they’ve processed. They just couldn’t prove it. So I'm sorry if this is intruding on your love nest, but I’ll be dammed if I let you walk into my best friend’s life with that history, and not check it out.’
I’m breaking inside, piece by piece. ‘So now what?’
‘You tell Lucy, and quick.’
With that she walks out of the front door and shouts, ‘Let Lucy know I had to go home.’
I bury my head in my hands, and think.
PAULA
‘I have an appointment with Mo. Would you please advise him Paula is here,’ I announce to the desk clerk. His face is familiar, and as he disappears to make the call with no more than a grunt, I’m assuming he also recognises me.
When Mo comes down five minutes later, his brow is creased. He smiles, but it struggles to reach his eyes.
‘Are you sure about this?’ he turns to ask as our feet clack up the linoleum clad staircase. It’s more dingy than I remember, the walls are scuffed, badly.
‘Yeah, I’m sure.’
A door slams above us and a pair of young guys in uniform chat about the football last night. The weight of the impact reverberates through my chest, making my heart thump harder.
‘It’s a big move, what if he didn’t do anything, what then?’ Mo double checks.
‘I’ve run through it from every angle, but what if he did do it and I don’t try to find out, what then?’
Mo gives me a serious nod as he opens the fire door at the head of the staircase and leads the way into the open plan office. Desks are strewn with piles of paper, unusual in this era of computers, but the recognisable musty smell is there. I feel a kick at the pit of my stomach for days gone by. As we walk through, a few of the usual faces lift from their work and smile, or wave, or give a ‘hi’.
‘They’re distracted, a new case has hit, so it’s all hands to the deck. Nothing changes, we still need to get as much done in the first few hours as possible.’ My friend winks at me.
‘I do miss it,’ I reply.
Once inside the glass meeting room, I take a seat on one of the blue fabric chairs, banging the arms into the desk as I pull it too far forward. My phone beeps an SMS alert and I hastily silence it, internally thanking Andy for messaging before our conversation began.
Mo’s boss, Steve, comes in behind me and I stand again to shake his hand. Both our palms are sweaty; good he’s as nervous as I am. His grip is firm, and he’s smiling a little too widely as he takes my hand, his grasp lingering.
‘It’s been a while,’ he greets me.
‘It has indeed,’ I smile back struggling to slow my breath without passing out. He’s a competent interrogator, I can't let him notice the effect he still has on me.
‘Itching for a piece of the action I hear,’ he grins. Seriously, he can twist words with the best of them. I rise above it.
‘Oh, I wish I wasn’t but there’s something not adding up in this case,’ I begin.
‘Go on.’
Relief floods through me when he avoids small talk. And so I start. I put into words what has been running round my head. I’ve rehearsed more times than I can remember but now I’m here, I’m not sure where to begin. I decide to just plough in and see where I end up.
‘Right, so a bit of background. My best friend got with this Giles Harrington a few months back. There was something about him that I couldn’t place. Anyway, it turns out that his wife died of a heart problem a few years ago. It was put down to natural causes, seemingly by you, although that is largely irrelevant.’ I have to be careful not to let slip that Mo has been helping me. I choose my words carefully.
‘I was curious whether this was the reason I’d had this itching in my gut so started looking into him. Anyway, long story short, I’ve now discovered that he was having an affair with his lodger. So, then I wondered how far this had been investigated at the time.’ I wait for a response. Steve is no fool, but I don't expect him to want to ask more than he needs to. Sometimes it's best to remain ignorant.
‘OK, so you know I can’t disclose the details of the case to a civilian which you unfortunately are now,’ I nod my understanding, ‘so tell me, have you unearthed anything on Giles?’ Mo is quiet, picking at his finger nail.
‘No, nothing. A few circumstantial pieces, but nothing concrete.’
‘OK, so go through your points.’
I list off the them one by one being careful to give a balanced overview. I begin with his particular scientific skills, running through the oddities and putting these into context against traits of convicted criminals. Finally, ‘he loves a good crime book, particularly of the how to get away with genre. As I say this, I am suddenly aware of the frailty of my case. I have absolutely nothing on Giles other than a load of cobbled together assumptions. I smile weakly, Steve doesn't acknowledge it, ignoring my struggles to sound sane. I'm thankful this meeting is with him. At least he knows me, understands me. I may sound like a lunatic with a grudge, but he knows me better than anyone. I pray he'll use our history in my favour for once.
‘So, what about this affair?’ he asks.
My head jolts up, caught off guard. I scrunch my forehead, he nods his encouragement. I stammer, ‘affair, well, erm...?'
Mo momentarily forgets his finger nail and looks at me. My face flushes, flames of a very different time heating my skin as memories of late nights working on cases with Steve flicker like an old movie real.
‘This affair Giles had with his lodger?’ Steve points me in the right direction.
‘Ah, yes, well, yes, this lodger, Julie, fell in love with Giles by all accounts. Thought that they had something special. Then Steph, Giles’ wife, died, and he moved on.’
‘So, you’re wondering whether Julie was involved in a conspiracy with Giles? Or indeed, worked alone to bump Steph off and leave the path clear for her to be with Giles?’ Steve clarifies.
‘Exactly,’ I confirm, releasing air from my lungs.
‘So, what else do you have on Giles?’ Steve asks.
I stop, put my thoughts in order. Push aside the vision of Steve's face close to mine, holding my wrists above my head against his office wall as he throbbed inside me.
‘He had to borrow money from his brother and sister-in-law. I don’t know if he had life insurance on Steph, but it’s worth checking,’ I'm getting back into the swing of things again. ‘It also appears that people weren’t really a fan of Steph, she apparently liked male attention and wasn’t fussy where it came from. She was blamed for holding Giles back in his career. It may not be significant, but again, if she was unpopular, she could have other enemies who took her illness as an opportunity for foul play,’ I say.
Steve and Mo are both nodding and I’m starting to feel a little less like a witch on the hunt. ‘Another thing is that, we can’t ignore the possi
bility she was having an affair and Giles found out - that gives him motive. I'm not able to investigate this on my own, I need resource and someone in an official capacity to open doors.’
I pause and wait for the response. Steve is quiet and Mo is chewing the cap off his pen. I have a momentary vision of him being a small boy at school, whilst the teacher talks in front of the chalk board. I resist the urge to hug my friend who has stuck his neck out for me.
Eventually Steve speaks, ‘The problem with this is that it’s an old case in relation to any evidence we can collect. Plus you have nothing beyond a gut instinct and a bunch of hypotheses. I just don’t have the resources to re-open a case based on this,’ my stomach lurches towards my groin.
‘But…’ I start and can’t find the words to finish. In my head, this isn’t how it ended. He owes me.
‘I have a proposal for you,’ Steve holds up his palm, shifting to sit upright. ‘I don’t have the resources to justify taking this forward with my team, but how about you come on board officially? We could call it, an adviser? You do all the leg work with the backing of the police department. This will open the doors you need and then you can establish whether there is anything to this hunch of yours once and for all.’
It sounds like a fair solution, but there is one problem, ‘I need to remain behind the scenes.’
‘Why?’ ask both Mo and Steve in unison.
‘Because, of Lucy. Can you imagine the fall out if she finds out I’m re-opening a case on her new boyfriend’s ex wife’s death? She’s already pissed off with me. She thinks I’ll stop at nothing to get Giles out of the picture so things can be how they used to be.’ As I say this my chest is thick with sadness at the strain between myself and my most precious friend.
‘Are you sure that isn’t what it is?’ checks Mo, speaking properly for the first time this meeting.
‘Don’t you realise, I’d leave it if I could? There is something off here.’ I pause to reign in my passion and make sure I’m being objective. ‘Look, this guy didn’t seem right from the start. I can't place why, but even if he’s totally in the clear, something stinks.’
