by Karen Botha
‘What did you do?’ I scrunch my eyes.
‘Well, I did need a massage, you understand that don’t you? I really was genuine, but something about your picture captured me. I couldn’t get you out of my head. I found you online; social and business; and I liked what I saw. But we can all post what we want people to believe about us, so I spent some time watching your clients and friends come and go. I wanted to learn how you interacted. It helped me figure you out before I became familiar with you personally.’ He pauses, ‘It was nice when we did grow close, a comfort that you were, natural I suppose.’
I process this, ‘So you were scared of being hurt again?’
‘Yes, exactly… see you get me!’
I’m still not as sure as he is about this, but I’m trying, ‘But why didn’t you just experiment with online dating?’
‘Because that’s a classic example of people portraying an image of who they would like to be.’
And in that one sentence, all is clear. I understand. It actually makes perfect sense.
‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper and place my hand gently on his shoulder. Its the best way I can think of to show him that I’m committed to this madness; whatever the outcome.
GILES
They say a cat has nine lives. I have more.
Despite the discord, I have Lucy back and Paula onside. I played it safe last time. Didn’t want to rock the boat. If the police weren’t looking for evidence, then I wasn’t going to start pushing too hard for them to find it. It was enough that Steph had been dealt her final hand.
I’ve had a second go at everything this time and I’m applauding myself for my meticulous planning. I’m not particularly hurt that people close to me chose to shit on me in whichever way suited them. Life is a game where the smart players come out on top. It’s up to me to decide when that game ends. It’s not over yet.
I believe in rules/ karma/ whatever you want to call it. Sometimes if those rules aren't followed fully, life needs a helping hand to tip the scales. That’s all I’ve done. My painstaking preparation, aided and abetted by Paula's nose for things not adding up. I played my card well there. I’m right at the finish line. The only question now is who will come crashing down? Who will take the ultimate fall for their actions? Who betrayed me the most? Who would I like to beat the most?
I’m excited by the chance to meddle in the outcome. Wyndham is insignificant. We have a bond, not necessarily from love on my part, I’m incapable of that particular emotion. No, our bond is common wellbeing. Sticking together. We’ll always be there for each other. Whilst he needed a wake up call for presuming he was better than me, I bear no grudge with him getting some light relief from that two-bit swindler, Julie. I’ve just acted as I’m expected to with her, covering my tracks, keeping her sweet so she had no reason to ever open her big mouth. She’s irrelevant and certainly not worth taking my brother down for. He’s learnt his lesson.
My mother is also irrelevant. She would never intentionally hurt us. She may retain her own opinions, but she’ll always cast them aside for her two boys. She is to be admired on so many levels, she just got caught up in the mess. Convincing her to push the needle in between Steph's toes means nothing. That’s an act of her love for me. Love cannot be bad. I will not let her suffer for feeling a strength of emotion I don’t possess.
Now, Hugh.
Hugh is supposed to be my best friend, my oldest friend. He was treated well by my family when he was growing up. Hugh therefore is expected to keep my interests in his heart. Hugh did not. Not only did he repeatedly undermine my intelligence, but he also thought he could get away with it. He almost did for a while. I’d lost interest, the main prize being Steph. The runner’s up wasn’t so important as the ultimate win. But now I'm able to enjoy a second chance. Oh, now, he will be my prize.
I call Paula.
PAULA
‘You need to release her,’ Steve instructs regarding Virginia.
Mo and I let out a shared groan. ‘We’ve had to let every suspect we’ve interviewed leave without charge?’ Mo tries.
‘I realise it’s tough,’ Steve agrees, ‘but the law is the law. You’ve not got enough. All your evidence is circumstantial, those videos didn’t enhance adequately to prove anything - you know this.’
He’s right. ‘Jim, do the discharge paperwork for Virginia Harrington please,’ Mo shouts to an old school copper happy to stay at his rank through to his retirement.
‘Now what? We’ll go round in circles if we don’t find something soon.’ I ask.
‘Or the case will be closed…’
‘Again,’ I admit.
‘Let’s take a break. Food?’ Mo asks.
What a perfect suggestion. We head out to the local pub, a narrow fronted old style boozer up a side alley. We’re each on our own clock anyway, both of which are signalling beer o'clock. As we approach the shoe horse of a bar that sits central to the room I mull over our options, circling the same tired territory.
‘We need to step back and find objectivity again,’ I state the bleeding obvious.
‘I agree, give the whole thing some space. You've been here before, you'll wake during the night with a thunderbolt of an answer.’
So far, our meal has amounted to a heady mix of own brew lager with whiskey for dessert. We’re not doing very well on letting the case breathe though and instead debate alternative angles. We need real evidence. Suddenly it comes to me.
‘Giles asked ages ago if we’d tested the pill box for finger prints…’ I announce, ‘I assumed we had, but did we? Or are the tests any better now?’
‘You’re kidding me? Did we really miss this?’ Mo questions.
We jump up pushing our table out of our way and almost knocking our latest round on the floor in our haste. We’ve still not eaten but food is well forgotten. Once inside, Mo pulls up the section on his laptop requesting a trace evidence report. All it takes is a few short moments and the details are officially logged. Now we must wait.
We both sit back on our chairs, smiling at each other, certain we will discover a fresh lead in this case which is fast turning stale. My phone rings.
‘Giles, hi.’
‘I’ve been rooting through Steph's old belongings again searching for something else that may be helpful.’
‘OK,’ I reply, wondering if this is the point that we finally catch our break.
‘Well, I'm not sure if what I've found is relevant, but I do have paperwork I think you should take a look at.’
‘What is it?’ I’m all ears.
‘I’ll bring it in, are you at the station now?’
An hour later, Giles walks into the incident room. He has a grey laptop bag slung over his shoulder which he opens as we sit around a table.
‘These are the charts the nurses made of Steph's progress.’ He explains as he points out peaks and troughs which indicate her heart either being over or under stimulated. ‘I never even thought about this before, but, as you'll see her figures are quite erratic. I assumed this was because she was ill and I guess the nurses did too. Now we have the video logs, we can cross tabulate who visited against Steph's condition. It may be worth a try?’
My heart soars. How could we not have had all of this information before? It's saddening, but if the original investigative team assumed the cause of death to be natural, being as busy as they were, they wouldn't have the free time to double check seemingly insignificant details. Whilst not ideal, it is human nature, and it happens more than we’d care to believe.
Giles heads off leaving us with the charts. We spend most of the night correlating dates and times, neatly adding our findings to a laborious pivot table. I head to work in the morning, exhausted yet excited at having accomplished about half of the task. I become more infuriated as my day drags. My tired mind wanders off track, unable to focus on fly tipping. I’m once more consumed by police assignments. When I was on the job officially, it dominated my life but at least I was in a position to commit. Now, i
t’s still taking over but I also need to function in my day-job aswell.
I can’t wait for the end of my shift. I bolt out of the office and back to the station. Mo has already started work, having had a quiet day he's been able to sneak in a spot of sidelining. This is fantastic because my brain isn’t trained for these long stints without sleep anymore and I'm keen, but unproductive.
‘Look at this!’ I head over to the desk where he has computers, papers and charts spread.
‘What?’ I’m giddy, he won’t answer.
I bend over the chart in front of him.
‘Hugh?’ I’m startled.
‘I didn’t think he had it in him.’
I smile and gently shove him, ‘We’re getting somewhere.’ I study the paperwork some more, ‘What’s this spike here?’
‘That’s the day Virginia visited.’
‘Whoa, perhaps they colluded?’
‘Nah, it’s coincidence, bet the arrogant old bat was just rubbing her feet like she said - Hugh called in later that same day after which Steph's heart peaks.’
‘Are the fingerprint results back? If we are to progress on the assumption Hugh committed some foul play, surely his fingerprints will be all over the box.’
‘I’ve not checked, I thought I'd get on with comparing the data whilst they conducted their tests. But, listen... When I watched the CCTV, we didn't see Hugh in the bedroom. Essentially, he turns up, and then nothing. No trace of him.’
‘Would he know how to switch off the cameras?’ I ask.
‘Yeah, if he’s even half IT literate, he’ll probably understand all he needs to do is to unplug the camera for the period he wants cover. As they operate on motion sensors, to the casual observer it will just appear as though no-one was in that room at the time. There simply won't be a film.’
‘We’re finally getting a break, and we have Giles to thank. Imagine, I was certain he was the one up to no good, and then he helps us crack the case. My nose may be losing its touch.’
‘Never! It's great having you back. Wouldn’t you consider returning?’
‘This case has taught me that never say never. I miss this place more than I realised. It’s in my blood I guess. Let’s see how life pans out.’
Mo nods, not wanting to push his luck.
I click on the lab results section in our database to check whether our case has been completed. ‘Mo, it’s here!’
In his haste to stand up, he bangs the wheels of his office chair on the floor and it bounces slightly.
We both wait for the collection of data to switch over to the screen containing our answers. When the page eventually flips, I struggle to locate the area to read. I'm out of practice and Mo beats me, ‘Hugh Bradley.’ It's there in black and white. Granted the names for Virginia, Giles and Steph are also listed, but Hugh has no reason for his fingerprints to be on Steph's pill box. The others have their alibis lined up and were also periodically filmed administering Steph with her tablets.
‘We’ve got him!’ I tilt my head back and close my eyes, arching the tension in my back that I can now let go. Finally, a conclusion to the case which threatened my closest friendship.
‘Yeah, being clever with the cameras turned out to be his downfall. If Hugh had nothing to hide, we would have found footage of him giving Steph those pills.’
‘You’d better call Steve and inform him we’re bringing Hugh in and charging him with the murder of Steph Harrington,’ I suggest.
‘Nah, you tell him, this is your win.’
LUCY
The old-fashioned bell jingles on the door as we push it open. We stand at the tired counter waiting as the aged man who runs the jewellers greets us as he passes through the curtain from the back.
‘Ah, hello, great, you’re here,’ he peers over gold-rimmed spectacles perched on the end of his nose.
‘Yes, sorry, we’ve had some stuff going on, been a tad busy,’ Giles explains.
‘No problem, let me grab your special package,’ he hurries back behind his curtain again, and rummages around.
‘I love it,’ I grin as he produces my engagement ring out of a tiny brown envelope. I re-angle it, admiring at the now delicate band upon which one and a half carat of family heirloom intertwines with eight gold claws.
‘It fits perfectly!’ I shove it hastily onto the fourth finger of my left hand, flashing all directions to see it from every flection as quickly as possible.
‘The art déco styling you chose shows off the diamond flawlessly,’ the jeweller agrees. ‘I was a little sceptical about making the whole thing out of the gold, but you have an eye for this. The stone is certainly the centre of attention.’
‘Do you like what I've done with your Mother's ring?’ I flap my hand wildly under Giles’ nose and simultaneously nod agreement at the old man.
‘Of course I do, I love it.’
I hog the limelight for several more minutes as I enjoy the sight of my diamond under the radiant lights of the jewellery store. Giles deals with the payment and the jeweller returns our spare gold which we'll use for my wedding band.
‘Let's go show your Mum,’ I plead as we jump back in our all but abandoned car, and pull away from the curb.
‘Excellent idea, we can grab some lunch with her too if you like?’
‘Done,’ and so as we drive around the winding lanes towards Virginia’s, Giles is forced to discuss how beautiful my ring is and how clever my design was. He is patient. He takes after his mother as she too, oohs and ahhs in all the right places and for extended periods of time. It's made easier for me by Giles and his Mum sitting next to each other at the small pine table in the country pub. This allows me to interrupt the conversation easily with flashes of my left hand between them.
‘I’m off to the loo,’ I announce after we’ve all finished our steak and ale pies. I swear they sigh in relief as they plan five minutes without having to extol the virtues of my engagement ring. I giggle to myself as I sit in the cubicle once again appreciating how the diamond sparkles differently in this new light. I wash my hands and appreciate how stunning it is when wet. The iridescent blues and greens bounce off giving way to oranges and pinks.
I’m finally finished, there really is no more that I can do in this toilet. I’ve seen my gorgeous ring from every angle and it’s time to return to the table before my family wonder whether I’ve had a reaction to my lunch.
I creep up behind them both, ready to throw my hands around Giles' neck, giving him another opportunity to see this beautiful representation of our love. I’m inwardly giggling at my mischief as I inch towards his back. They have no idea I’m there, this will be such fun. But then I hear them engrossed in conversation. One that is as far from diamonds as I can imagine.
‘Don’t say a word. We’re through it. Hugh will pay for deceiving me.’
It’s amazing what people tell you when they're unaware you’re listening.
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Other books in the Naked Series are:
Naked Truths (Book 1)
Naked Lies (Book 2) -
Passion, Jealousy, Murder...
He has billions, she has his heart.
Scarred by her ex, the last thing on Lucy’s mind is a boyfriend. But when the perfect billionaire makes a play for her, she is forced to reconsider. Gorgeous, kind and generous, he has it all - on the surface. And he’s set his sights on Lucy. When she falls for his rags to riches story she takes the plunge...
But Lucy’s burgeoning relationship is complicated when Adam is arrested. Paula, an ex detective looks into matters for her best friend. When she uncovers a domineering business partner, a tormented PA and a resentful brother, each has a motive for the worst type of crime…
Will Lucy follow her heart and allow true love to prevail? And will Paula unravel the web of deceit before it’s too late?
Naked Lies is the second in the Naked Series of pulse-pounding Romantic Suspense full length novels. If you like steamy sex scenes, complex characters, and twists you won’t see coming, then you’ll love Karen Botha’s captivating tale.
Buy Naked Lies to uncover the layers of lies today! Only on offer for a short time.
Who wrote your book?
Karen Botha was born in Lincoln and brought up in Yorkshire. She moved to Essex as soon as it was time to build her career.
She worked in Marketing for more time than she'll admit, and lost more personal time during these years than she cares to remember.
Consequently she retrained as a massage therapist and reflexologist. Not only does she love the interaction with her many clients, but this also gives her time to indulge her passion for writing.
