by Roger Bray
He took a slow drink from his glass to collect his thoughts as if what she had said was the most natural thing in the world and would easily fit into any conversation you might have with someone on a possible first date in a pizza restaurant. The slow drink increased until he drained the last third of the beer in one pull.
Not bothering to ask Alice, he turned and saw the waitress, catching her eye he indicated two more beers. She nodded and while he waited for them he sat quietly looking at Alice, who by now was regretting her little outburst and was chewing her bottom lip as she looked back at him and considered that he might be the one to make the run for the door, leaving her with two pizzas and the check.
The pizzas arrived first, quickly followed by the beers. Steve ignored his pizza, he needed it to cool anyway and poured his beer into his glass. He took another drink, a smaller one this time before looking at Alice who looked quite distraught.
“Well, that sucks.” Steve said simply over the rim of his glass.
Alice could only nod.
“Did he do it?”
She looked up at him in surprise. Did he care or was this some ghoulish curiosity?
“He says that he didn’t, and I believe him.”
Steve put the glass down and nodded slowly.
“Fair enough. But why do you believe him? Because he’s your brother?”
She nodded but then continued, “Yes, but it’s also because I know him, Alex is a lovely, laid-back guy. I have never, ever seen him angry with anyone. Don’t get me wrong, he’s not weak at all; he is muscular, fit, tall, physically imposing, strong, but kind and gentle. When it happened, everyone that knew him said the same thing, that they couldn’t see anyone less likely than him to do that.”
“How, I mean, what was supposed to have happened?”
Alice smiled wryly, “That is a big part of the problem because no one actually knows, Hazel’s—his wife—body was never found, no sign of her at all. So, they don’t know.”
“Could she still be alive?”
Alice only hesitated for a moment although it was a scenario she had herself considered many, many times.
“No, I don’t think so at all. She and Alex had a great relationship, well for eight years they did. They had a strong bond, even if they had have split up permanently, she would not have done that to Alex, or to her mom with whom she was close. So, no, much as I would love for her to be, I don’t think that she is still alive.”
“If she is definitely dead, and you and the legal system seem sure that she is and your brother didn’t do it, then … someone else did it.”
Alice stopped for a moment and looked at him suspiciously. She was suddenly concerned. This was the longest she had spoken to anyone about Alex apart from his legal team or Brian.
“You know, Steve, you’re asking an awful lot of questions,” she said, “you could be anyone; you could even be a reporter trying to get information out of me.”
Steve nodded and held up his hands.
“You’re right, Alice, sorry of course you’re right, I’m asking a lot of questions but that’s just my nature—I have no alternate motive apart from that after I met you in the coffee shop, I hoped we would meet up again and we did. I didn’t want to waste the chance, and all I was doing was trying to make conversation and get to know you a little better. Honestly, that’s all there’s to it. Admittedly, I had no idea that my idea of frivolous conversation would lead us down shit creek so far, or so quickly, I normally take a few dates to fuck things up this badly.”
He smiled, trying to break the somber mood that was overtaking them before continuing.
“My talking, questioning, it’s a habit I suppose from a previous life, and it seems that it’s a hard habit to break.”
She jumped on the one thing that echoed from her previous thoughts.
“This is a date is it?”
He shrugged, “I had hopes …”
She smiled at his simple reply before continuing, “Why the questioning then, what did you do, are you a cop, or were you one?”
“No, well, sort of. I was in the army for twenty years, I got out a couple of years ago, I was an investigator with the Criminal Investigation Command, and so I’m sort of used to asking questions, it was my job to ask questions. Look, I know sometimes I sound like I’m prying but when you spend a long time asking questions it becomes a hard habit to break.”
“And you spent this time investigating what?”
He shrugged again.
“A bit of everything, I suppose, I did a couple of tours in Germany at the European Command, a couple of years spent at Hunter Airfield in Georgia and Fort Bragg, but the last couple of years I spent at Quantico in a Major Fraud Unit.”
“And you’re out now?”
He smiled, “Yep, and now I’m another student at the University of Oregon.”
“Studying what?”
“What do you think?”
“Law?”
He smiled again and nodded.
“Yes, ma’am, yes indeed, one year to go for a law degree.”
“Why law?”
He smiled again before picking up his glass and taking a drink.
“Yeah, all good questions. Why law? It seemed like a good fit to what I was doing before. When I left the army, I didn’t intend to study anything, I had my twenty up and to be honest, I had had enough, nothing negative. I felt I needed something else. You know, move on and try something new. I grew up here in Eugene; my folks still lived here until a couple of years ago when they were both killed in a boating accident. So, I inherited their house a little way south of the campus and when I left the army, I decided to come back here, and I moved back into their place.”
“And went to study?”
“No. Well, it wasn’t a decision that I made straight away. I didn’t want to swap one uniform for another so didn’t even think of joining the police or any other federal agency. I was back in Eugene, no debts and a bit of a pension so I applied for and thanks to my previous experience I got my Private Investigator’s license pretty quickly.”
She laughed, “So, you’re a Private Investigator (PI)?”
“On paper anyway, I had the idea, given my last posting was in the main army unit that investigates major fraud and corruption, both internally and with contractors, that corporate fraud was an area I could concentrate on, I probably still will, but at the moment it’s sort of on hold until I finish my degree.”
“But why the degree, why law if you’d already sort of planned what you were doing?”
“My mom, God bless her, when I first joined the army she went through all the enlistment papers with a fine-tooth comb, all the pros and cons. One of the pros was the Montgomery GI Bill which pays for a college education if you want it once you leave. My mom was a determined lady, and she bent my ear before I joined until I agreed to do what was needed to make me eligible.”
“And you went to college?”
“I still wasn’t decided, but when I got into the folks’ house, I was clearing out some drawers and found an envelope, a big old envelope of my mom’s. It was full of pamphlets and documents from when I first enlisted. The GI Bill scheme was something that she had paid particular attention to and she had circled and underlined so much information on it I knew it was important to her. When I saw that, it was obvious how much it meant to her, I made some inquiries of my own and, as I’m living almost next door anyway, I enrolled at UO Law School the next week.”
“You did it for your mom?”
He nodded, “Yeah, I did, well that was what gave me the shove I needed to do something anyway but you’re right I think it was more for her than for me, but now I think that a bit more education is never a bad thing.”
She was smiling now, warming to this man sitting opposite her.
“Then what?”
“Then what, after I’ve finished the course?”
She nodded.
“I have no idea to be honest.”
“But ar
en’t you studying law to, well, practice law?”
“Not necessarily, I’m studying law, and it may be a good fall back but I’m not actually sure that being an attorney is what I want to do.”
“And that’s how you recognized the documents I had?”
“The red tape is a bit of a giveaway, and they have a look to them. A glance and you can sort of tell if something is a legal document.”
She nodded and smiled, “Tell me about it, I’ve seen more legal documents in the last few years to last me a lifetime. Even I can spot one a mile away now and I’m a computer engineering major. I swear to God they even have their own smell, like a musty old museum or library, but with a hint of despair.”
He reached out and took her hand, “How about we eat pizza, drink too much beer and try not to talk about anything legal for the rest of the evening.”
Alice looked at him and smiled the first genuine smile she had in a long time.
“OK, that’s a deal,” she said picking up the first slice of her pizza, “but what are we going to talk about then.”
“Ah,” he laughed, “I have loads of funny stories.”
And he did, he started with an improbable, but he swore true, tale of a one-star US general, a busty Fraulein, some poker chips, and a live German chicken.
Chapter Four
She wasn’t sure of the time, but she knew that she had woken late, later than she normally would, and she was vaguely aware of a slice of sunlight coming through a crack between the heavy window drapes. As Alice opened her eyes and peered through her disheveled hair, the hangover made itself known as well, and she groaned before smiling and brushing her hair away from her eyes.
It came as quite a surprise to her, but the first thought Alice had was that she actually felt good, even with the hangover she was suffering. The hangover itself wasn’t a feeling unknown to her at all but it was, she considered, the first guilt free hangover that she had had since the beginning of the trial.
The hangover was guilt free because it has been honestly earned, she considered, by drinking a beer or two, probably three or four, too many while engaging in some normal social interaction. A good pizza, great beer, good conversation and good company and it had been, all in all she thought, a good night.
She was used to waking up with a hangover, five or six mornings a month usually; every month for the past three years.
Waking up with the guilt of having drained three or four bottles of wine, or a bottle of whiskey while she sat in the corner of her lounge room with the lights dimmed, trying to fool herself that she would have the one single glass, maybe two, but which always turned into another bottle or in the case of the whiskey, oblivion after an hour or so.
She didn’t need to drink; she wasn’t an alcoholic she knew that. When she was out of wine or whiskey she didn’t drink the bottle of Crème de menthe that she had found at the back of one of the kitchen cupboards while cleaning up when she had first moved back in and which had been there for probably fifteen years. That and when she was working on one of Alex’s appeals, even though her stress levels would be constantly peaking, she didn’t consider drinking at all. It was only when it was over, when the reality of his situation came home to her again that she would reach out for a bottle and a glass until she could sleep without dreaming, or crying.
On those occasions she would usually wake with the bile rising into her mouth and a sick feeling in her stomach. She would have to rush into the bathroom and kneel in front of the toilet heaving up what little remained in her stomach, or trying to. After the sickly acid all she usually managed was to fall into a coughing fit which aggravated her hangover and she would sit, pathetic and naked on the floor while it abated enough that she was able to stand and try to reach the shower.
This time though she was enjoying the hangover, and she smiled to herself as she stretched and then laid back into her pillows and remembered the evening.
True to his word, Steve had kept her laughing with his stories of military misdemeanors and misbehavior and, the only legal references he made were those ramifications suffered by the subjects of his tales.
She didn’t know how much of his story telling was fact, embellishment or outright lie, but she didn’t care. She hadn’t had that much fun or enjoyed anyone’s company so much in such a long time; she couldn’t even begin to work out when.
Steve had been the perfect companion once they left The Granary Pizza. He had accompanied her, a fair way out of his way, to her house. He’d suggested a taxi but in the cooling evening, Alice had decided she wanted to walk and he agreed. Not touching her, not trying to hold her hand or put his arm around her, he had carried her bags while they slowly walked through downtown Eugene to her house. It wasn’t a long walk. It was a nice evening, and they took their time and were standing outside her home in forty minutes.
Steve had handed over her bags and complemented her on a lovely evening, at which she had laughed knowing that the success of the evening was completely down to him and his infectious good humor, she had reached out and kissed him on the cheek and walked up toward her front door.
As she reached it and was fumbling for her keys in her bag, he called out to her, “Alice, if you want to get hold of me.”
She turned and saw him scribbling with a pen onto a piece of an advert for some blues band that he had picked up as they were leaving the Granary. He walked the few steps to stand in front of her.
“My cell number, if there’s anything that you want or need, if you want to talk to me about something or if you want to get another coffee. Please call me.”
She nodded her thanks and took the paper from him.
He smiled at her again, “Please ring, at least it will stop me having to hang around the markets all the time in the future pretending to ‘accidentally’ run into you.”
Her jaw dropped.
“Did you …?” she asked.
His smile turned into a broad grin, “Not this time, but I might have to if you don’t ring. Goodnight, Alice.”
He turned and walked back toward the sidewalk as she found her keys and got the correct one into the lock and opened the door. She turned and saw him still waiting until she flicked on the indoor light and stepped inside. As she closed the door, she saw him turn and start off toward his own house near the university.
Remembering the moment, Alice jumped out of bed and walked naked into the kitchen where she had left her shopping and hand bag on the counter top. Next to them, slightly crumpled, was the piece of paper. Flattening it she saw his cell number and a sense of relief came over her, another emotion that she had not felt in a long time.
“When is a good time to ring?” she thought, “How long should I wait? But then it’s not as if I’m asking for a date. All I want is some advice, so does the time thing matter, but I don’t want to look desperate.”
She rummaged around in her bag and found her cell phone as quickly as she had found Steve’s number, but then decided not to ring him straight away but to take her time and have a shower and get dressed before she did anything else, nothing shouted desperate to her like standing naked in her kitchen ringing him as soon as she got up.
Shower and dress then breakfast, she decided, that was the thing to do, have breakfast, maybe a couple of coffees and then ring him.
The phone rang three or four times before Steve’s voice came on the line, she felt nervous and a sense of relief at the same time and was about to say hello when she realized that it was a recording.
“Hi, if you’ve rung the right number you know who this is, you know what to do and I’ll call you back.”
Shit!
She left a quick message thanking Steve for a great evening and asked him to give her a ring. She superfluously left her own cell number and hung up swearing under her breath that she hadn’t rung him earlier, she might have missed him then anyway, but she felt by putting it off she had wasted her chance.
Her worry was, for once, wasted and Steve rang her bac
k ten minutes later, apparently as soon as he got out of the shower.
“Hey, Alice how things? Great night last night.”
“Yes, it was, it was great. I had a good time for the first time in a while.”
“Well, I’m glad that I could be there for that. I’m so glad that you rang, what can I do for you?”
“I don’t know what … well I do, but it’s that with … you know, with what you used to do.”
“You want me to look at your brother’s case?”
“Well, yes, that is, if you could … if you want to?”
“I’m not a cop, Alice, murder, or any serious case like that isn’t my thing, I have done some serious assault investigations, but concentrated more on fraud.”
“Yeah look, I know,” she stammered, “I thought if you … you know, if you could have a look through the files, a fresh set of eyes looking at it. You might see something that might have been missed.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know, Steve. Anything I suppose, anything at all.”
“You have all the documents, all the case files?”
“You have absolutely no idea,” she laughed, “of how much paperwork I have about this.”
“I can imagine, though, I’ve seen how these files can grow. Look, how about I get dressed and head over in an hour or so, I would imagine it’s going to take a few hours reading to make a dent in it?”
“Oh, would you? Could you? That would be great.”
“Alice, I’m happy to do this, but you have to understand that I might not find anything, or there’s a chance that I might find something that you don’t want to know.”
“You might find that Alex is guilty.”
“Well, yes, that’s exactly, I might.”
“That’s fine, I don’t think you will, though. You’ll see that the evidence simply isn’t there. I don’t think so and Alex’s lawyers didn’t think so either.”
Chapter Five
Two hours later Steve was at her door and she showed him into the kitchen where she had spent the time between the phone call and his arrival, emptying the filing cabinet. He whistled softly as he saw the multiple piles of documents on the table.
