The Woman Who Didn't

by HC Michaels

  She raised her eyebrows.

  “I’m not saying that’s what I think,” he clarified. “I’m asking if you think you deserve it.”

  Skye huffed, no longer concerned about hiding her anger. “I may not have been completely honest, but I sure as hell didn’t kill anyone, especially not Theo.”

  “And how does it make you feel not to be believed?” he asked.

  “Let me see ... Not only might I be about to be charged with murder, but my career has gone down the toilet, I’m unable to visit my mother and Amber’s probably going to inherit Theo’s entire estate, move into my house and redecorate it from top to bottom in purple. Plus, my husband is dead. How do you think that makes me feel?” She directed her gaze at him, feeling him retreat into a safe space within his head. How dare he sit there like that asking her how it made her feel that nobody believed a word she said.

  She stood and leant before him, her face inches from his.

  “How the fuck do you think it makes me feel?” she hissed.

  Dr Addison nodded, appearing unfazed, yet the fear in his eyes betrayed him.

  “That’s why I decided to tell the police the truth about my cancer,” she said, taking a step back. “It’s all going to come out anyway when I’m arrested. If I ask for bail on the grounds of medical reasons, a judge will want proof of my cancer. Proof I can’t provide. If I go to jail, the prison doctors will figure out the state of my health quickly enough. Either way the truth is going to emerge. It looks better for me if I admit it now. At least that way I have an ounce of control over the situation. My cancer game was up the moment Theo died.”

  She walked to the door.

  “All I did was bend the truth a little. I’m not a liar like you’re making me out to be. None of this makes me a murderer. End of story. I have nothing more to say to you today.”

  She walked out, throwing the secretary a sarcastic grin as she left.

  Okay, perhaps she’d done a little more than bend the truth. But lies were only words. How did that children’s nursery rhyme go? Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.

  See, only words. No sticks, no stones. And definitely no poison.

  She wanted to go home.

  She wanted her husband.

  She wanted to turn back the clock.

  Skye was getting nervous. The police questioning was hotting up.

  She lay back in the spa bath in her ensuite as if washing the filth of the accusations from her body could cleanse them from her mind.

  Pouring some bath gel onto her loofa, she rubbed it down her arms, wishing Theo were here to wash her back. Not to say that ever lasted for long. There were far too many of her other body parts he was more interested in washing.

  The accusations were ridiculous. She hadn’t killed Theo, nor had she tried to kill George or her mother. She didn’t want any of them dead.

  She loved Theo. Adored him.

  She didn’t exactly love George, but she had no reason to want him dead.

  As for her mother ... why would she kill her when for the first time in her life she was feeling her love? Dementia made her a better person, not worse. With dementia she was happy to see her. She gave her compliments and held her hand. The state of her mind was a blessing as far as she was concerned. It was no reason to kill her. It was reason to keep her alive.

  So, who had tried to kill her? And had they been trying to kill Theo or was that a mistake? Why the hell did he have to eat those bloody brownies?

  She sank into the warm water, dipping her head back. It felt strange without her long hair. She had a nice, thick coverage of hair growing back, but it would take ages for it to return to the length it was before.

  She thought of Samson, relating to how he must have felt when Delilah cut his hair, robbing him of his strength. When Theo found her in the bathroom that day, her own life had fallen to the floor along with her hair.

  Whoever the killer was, they had to be someone who could get access to her house. Someone close to her. If she ever found out who it was, she might prove the police correct and become a murderer herself. How dare anybody rip Theo from her arms like that! And framing her for it in the process. She wasn’t sure what she felt more acutely—her anger or her grief.

  Maybe it was Amber? No, that couldn’t be right. She didn’t even know Skye’s mother and she loved Theo too much to want him dead.

  It could be George. He was at their house all the time, including the night Theo ate the brownies. He’d always been jealous of him. Perhaps he’d decided to bump him off so he could be the triumphant twin at last. But why would he hurt her mother and almost kill himself in the process? That didn’t make any sense. Although, the police had hinted at the fact he’d told them she’d offered him the brownies when she’d done the complete opposite. That part made no sense, either. If only she’d kept the note Theo had left her in the fridge.

  She rubbed at her temples. She was getting a headache.

  Maybe Sophie was guilty. A scorned lover getting back at Theo for dumping her all those years ago and trying to inflict pain on her by killing her mother. That was possible. Sophie could’ve sent herself that message about the Prussian Blue when she realised she’d accidentally poisoned her husband. Or maybe she intentionally poisoned him to throw the police off her track, always meaning to save him at the last moment. Or perhaps their marriage wasn’t so picture perfect after all and she’d meant to kill George, too.

  Skye stood up in the bath as if the water had been infested with leeches and reached for her towel.

  That must be it.

  It was Sophie.

  That fat bitch had killed her husband. Somehow, she’d gotten a key to their house and messed with her brownies. She needed to call Detective Hooke and tell him.

  She dried herself and went to her bedroom to look for her phone.

  Unless it was Rin…

  She was a good possibility, too. Her motive would be identical to Sophie’s. Yet another one of Theo’s scorned lovers who not only still held a candle for him but had a grudge against him. She had an even stronger motive than Sophie. With Theo out of the picture, she’d have sole custody and control of Amber, just like she’d always wanted.

  She could have easily used Amber’s key to get into their house.

  Yes, that must be it. It all fit so perfectly. She’d never trusted that woman.

  It was definitely Rin.

  Where was her bloody phone? Skye spilled the contents of her bag onto the bed, certain she’d left it in there.

  Rin could be covering her tracks right now. They needed to hurry up and arrest her. No doubt her boring husband was in on the whole plan, too. The way he looked at Rin was enough to make you sick.

  Maybe he committed the crime for her, and she knew nothing about it. The ultimate gift for his wife—a dead ex-husband.

  They were definitely dodgy.

  She wondered what would happen to Amber if the police arrested Rin and Jeff. She’d have to go and live with George and Sophie. There was no way in hell that spoilt brat was going to live with her.

  She found her phone in a side pocket of the bag and scrolled through for Detective Hooke’s number.

  He answered on the second ring.

  “Detective Hooke speaking.”

  “It’s Skye Manis calling. I have some information for you.” She was shaking. Why hadn’t she thought to tell him this earlier? She’d been too busy trying to deal with her grief, she supposed.

  “Go ahead,” said the detective.

  “It was Theo’s ex-wife. I’ve got it all figured out.” Skye drew in a breath, trying not to rush her words. “Rin had motive and opportunity. Think about it. With Theo gone, she could have their daughter all to herself. And she wasn’t exactly his greatest fan.”

  “Where’s the proof?” asked the detective.

  “Isn’t that your job?” Skye screwed up her face. “It’s not my job to find you proof.”

  “Actually, Mrs Manis,
we already have quite a bit of proof.”

  “That’s fantastic.” Maybe she’d been wrong about this detective.

  “But I’m afraid the proof doesn’t point to Theo’s ex-wife.”

  Skye’s stomach dropped, fully aware of exactly who it pointed at.

  “And besides,” he continued. “What’s her motive for trying to kill your mother?”

  Shit. She hadn’t thought of that. This was what happened when your mind went over the speed limit. It forgot to consider the facts.

  “Maybe she was framing me?” she suggested.

  “I’ll be in touch, Mrs Manis.”

  Skye disconnected the call, looking across at her belongings strewn across her bed. She’d made a mess. She could feel her pulse rising just at the sight of it.

  She tried to still her shaking hands as she placed her purse neatly back in her bag next to her make up case and returned her phone to the side pocket.

  Her hand brushed against a piece of paper she’d hidden in the bottom of the pocket several months ago now, not wanting Theo to see it.

  She smoothed the paper out on her bare thigh. There was no need to hide it now that Theo wasn’t here to read it.

  She scanned through the letter almost as if there was a possibility it had changed while sitting in her bag.

  No, the result was still the same.

  Earlier in the year she’d decided to go ahead with the genetic testing her doctor had recommended to see if she carried the mutation linked to early onset Alzheimer’s disease. She knew she should’ve told Dr Addison about the test. The result had been a large part of the reason she’d lied about her cancer.

  It just seemed too personal. Let him think she’d lied to get attention. Granted, that had been a very positive side effect to her lie, but it wasn’t how it started. Her test result had been a far more effective catalyst.

  As part of the process, she’d had to see a genetic counsellor who was extremely concerned about her decision to face this news alone. Normally people had a support person come with them.

  She didn’t want Theo there. She couldn’t cope with it. She needed to sit with the result on her own first. If she had the mutation she’d be robbed of her mind. If she didn’t, she’d be robbed of her body, forced to birth a child she didn’t want.

  Either way the result was going to be challenging and she hadn’t been at all sure how she was going to deal with it. She was going to need time to come up with a plan without Theo whispering his ideas in her ear. He only had one plan. He wanted a son. He wanted it so badly he’d probably go ahead and have a baby with a crazy lady, making her do IVF to ensure the gene wasn’t passed on. She’d be poked and jabbed and examined until all shreds of her dignity were erased. One of the freelancers at work had written about her experiences with IVF and it sounded like a horror movie with the only prize at the end being a screaming child.

  So, against the counsellor’s advice she’d turned up for her result alone. The news was private. It was hers to deal with. She could handle it.

  When the counsellor explained the result was negative, she’d sat very still in her chair, holding her breath as she tried to work out if that meant she was negative for the gene or if she was simply saying the news was bad.

  It wasn’t until the counsellor pointed at the result on the sheet she now held in her hand and said she didn’t have the mutation that she exhaled in a deep sigh. Her mother’s future was not her own.

  The blissful relief sliding though her body was quickly replaced by sheer terror, knowing she no longer had an excuse for putting off having children.

  Which left her with the problem of what to tell Theo.

  It was strange really, the way it worked out in the end. She’d only just decided to tell Theo the truth—the whole truth—when her doctor requested she go for an ultrasound to check out some pain in her left ovary, most likely due to a cyst.

  As she’d been having her scan, pretending she was anywhere other than lying on a table while a complete stranger had his hand between her legs, the solution came to her.

  What if it wasn’t a cyst causing her pain? What if it was cancer? What if her ovaries needed to be removed, leaving her unable to have children?

  By the time the sonographer confirmed it was indeed a cyst, her imagination had arrived at a completely different destination.

  The answer was cancer.

  It sounded like a line from a movie trailer. She’d turned the words over in her mind, enjoying the way they rhymed.

  The answer was cancer.

  As she’d gotten changed back into her clothes in the cubical at the clinic, she had to fight back tears. She could finally see the future in the way she’d always wanted.

  With Theo.

  Without dementia.

  Without children.

  The memory of the emotion of that moment affected her even now and tears flooded her eyes.

  She’d gotten two out of her three wishes, only the one she’d been robbed of was the one she’d wanted most of all.

  Theo.

  She hunched into the foetal position, her wet towel slipping undone, leaving her naked.

  She’d give anything to have Theo back with her. Anything. She’d even have a child for him. She missed him so much.

  Below The Surface

  Dr Addison retrieved his laptop from the drawer of his desk, preparing to type up his notes from his sessions with Skye. He didn’t normally like making too many notes while his clients were talking. He found it made them too self-conscious. Better for them to think they were just having a casual chat. They were more likely to talk freely that way.

  With Skye he’d had no choice but to take a copious amount of notes. She was such a complex person and he had to be certain he paid attention to what she was telling him and not what he’d read about her in the media.

  It wasn’t often he had a client with a profile as high as Skye Manis. His brain had to work overtime during their sessions to keep himself from asking questions he wanted to know personally, rather than what he needed to ask professionally.

  What a mess her life was. Given the clients Carlos Tagliatori had referred to him in the past, that was saying something. Here was a woman who had every opportunity in life, and she’d pissed them all up against the wall. She was wealthy, attractive and intelligent. She had the trifecta, for Christ’s sake!

  He thought of his own daughter, Maddy, who was almost the same age. She wasn’t as wealthy as Skye (not even close), not as attractive (although, still beautiful to him) and not as intelligent (he’d had to face that fact long ago when she told him she dreamed of visiting Rome so she could see the Eiffel Tower). Yet, Maddy was far more successful than Skye in so many ways. She loved her job in that clothing store, had a terrific husband, a mad passion for yoga and was surrounded by hordes of giggling friends who dragged her all over town.

  If success was defined on a scale of happiness, rather than money, then Maddy was top of the list. He was proud of her. She’d taken what she’d been given in life and made the best of it.

  Skye had made the worst of it.

  He’d enjoyed listening to her talk, even if she’d disturbed him a few times. It was so much more interesting than the usual drivel he had to listen to—couples bickering over who should put the bins out, bored housewives frustrated with not having found their purpose in life, middle-aged men lamenting their lost youth. Usually his job was Boring with a capital B. He’d heard it all before. That was why he liked his referrals from Carlos and was happy to give him a larger kickback than usually considered normal. Carlos’s clients were rarely boring.

  Skye had said things to him he’d never heard before. He didn’t know where to start with his notes.

  First, there was the issue of her lying about her cancer. That was a whole thesis in itself. Her warped childhood had a lot to do with it. It was a classic case of attention seeking. She definitely showed signs of narcissistic personality disorder. Having been given no attention as a ch
ild, this cancer was her ticket to a whole world of being noticed. It made her somebody.

  The death of her first husband had given her a taste of it. She’d even admitted the public’s attention was like a drug.

  But the problem with drugs is they eventually they wear off, leaving you craving another hit. Hits of attention and sympathy are hard to score when you’re a healthy woman in the prime of your life, happily married to a wealthy man. It was no wonder the letdown had started making her nauseous.

  It seemed there was more to her lie than just pure attention seeking. There was a certain convenience with it being in her ovaries, leaving her unable to have children. And it had led to her stepdaughter moving out of her house. Plus, her father had contacted her for the first time. Like she’d said, it was perfection on a to-do list. She had a lot to gain from the cancer and nothing to lose—unless she was found out, which of course she was. Telling a lie like that would be hard enough to pull off, but not ever being found out would be like some kind of miracle.

  Whether or not Theo died, the truth would have surfaced eventually.

  These were all very complex issues and he needed more time to think them through before he’d be able to prepare the psychological assessment Carlos had asked him for.

  He wasn’t required to comment on her guilt or innocence, but always liked to decide this for himself. He couldn’t say with any certainty he thought she was innocent, although he couldn’t find any reason why she’d want to kill Theo. She seemed to genuinely have loved him.

  In his experience, pathological liars were certainly capable of far worse crimes than making up stories. Murder included.

  But killing Theo didn’t fit with Skye’s plan. Why bump him off if she was already faking the cancer? She would’ve gotten plenty of attention with the cancer alone. She hadn’t needed to kill him. Unless she’d wanted him dead for other reasons.

  Maybe this was an issue of self-control. Once she got started with her lies, she couldn’t stop. She wanted more attention, then more and more. She couldn’t get enough, and her plans became increasingly elaborate.