by Roger Bray
Steve scribbled in his notebook for a few minutes, completely focused while Alice looked on. After a few minutes he stopped, re-read what he had written, underlined a couple of passages and circled a few words before closing the book and turning to Alice.
“Right, of course I will need to speak to your brother and go through his statement. But I want to go through everything else first, there’s no point in wasting his time for only the statement.”
“You’ll want to ask him some questions?”
Steve nodded.
“About what?”
He shrugged his shoulders, “I’m not sure yet to be honest, whatever comes up from my reading of the case files, I need to prepare to interview him, and I won’t know what to ask until I do.”
“You make it sound like an interrogation.”
Again, he shrugged, “In a lot of ways that’s exactly right. Except that I will be concentrating on what I want to know instead of trying to prove that he killed Hazel.”
“Which he didn’t,” she said stubbornly.
“Which he didn’t,” he conceded.
She smiled and nodded.
“OK, I’m going to read through a lot more of this evidence but in the meantime, there are quite a few things that we can talk about. To add to the background as a basis for what I know about Alex and Hazel.”
“Shoot.”
“Why did they split up?”
Alice shook her head and for a moment her new-found smile slipped from her.
“Stupid, stupid reasons; they may not have if they had been left alone, but I stuck my nose in and I think that I caused it in some way.”
“What happened?”
“Children.”
“I didn’t think that they had any children.”
“They don’t, they didn’t.”
“But they wanted them and couldn’t?”
“As far as I’m aware, that wasn’t the case. I didn’t think and neither of them ever said that they were desperate for children.”
“And that definitely wasn’t the case?”
“No, they had no plans for children that I know of, but I think for them if it happened that would be great, but if it didn’t happen that would be fine as well. They were happy with each other and didn’t need a change.”
“But something happened.”
Alice nodded, “Hazel fell pregnant.”
“And it was definitely Alex’s?”
“Yes.” She almost shouted, “Of course. They had no problems then.”
“And not planned?”
“No, not planned.”
“And when was this?”
She considered for a moment before answering.
“About twelve months before they split up.”
“OK, so she’s pregnant. Were they both happy about it?”
“Absolutely, yes, they were, it was early days, but they were starting to make some plans, but then …”
“She lost the baby.”
Alice nodded, “Hazel found out she was pregnant and then, maybe six weeks later, she miscarried.”
“And how did they go when that happened?”
Alice remembered back to the moment trying to recreate the emotions she had felt.
“They both reacted well to it actually, they were quite philosophical about it, ‘Meant to be’ and all the other folksy bullshit that people use when they’re trying to cover up how upset they are about something. I think Alex was more worried about Hazel, but they were both there for each other and they seemed to get over it pretty quickly.”
“So, what changed?”
“I don’t know how or why but Hazel got it into her head that she had somehow let Alex down, that it was all her fault and she was not a proper woman if she couldn’t carry a baby. When it happened, she went to see her obstetrician to be checked over but there was nothing wrong with her, nothing at all, it turned out that it was one of those things that cannot be explained.”
“But she didn’t believe that it was fate or whatever it was?”
“No, she didn’t. She started thinking about past times when her period had been late, a day or two, maybe a week and managed to convince herself that she had fallen pregnant then as well and had miscarried.”
“And that made it worse?”
“A lot worse, everyone tried to talk to her to make her see that she was making something out of nothing.”
“Everyone?”
“Me, Alex, her mom, her obstetrician, we all tried but it must have had no effect.”
“She couldn’t get over it?”
Alice shook her head and Steve could see that she was getting upset.
“If you want to stop, if you don’t want to talk about this?”
“No, I don’t want to talk about this, but you’re right, you need to know all of the facts behind this, so you know what happened.”
“OK, but if you need a break, or want to move on past this and come back to it at another time I will understand.”
Alice shook her head, “Now I’m this far in I may as well get it over with.”
Steve nodded and prompted her, “So, Hazel has miscarried and, although she seemed all right to start with, she is mentally deteriorating and starting to doubt herself?”
“Yes, she didn’t seem to be able to get past that thought that she was, somehow, less of a woman. It gnawed away at her and everyone could see it affecting her and she was becoming quite introverted, which was so completely out of character that it was more obvious a change for her and a shock to us.”
“And how did Alex react?”
“Like Alex, he was worried and attentive, he said he understood and he was there for her every step of the way. At no time did I hear him say anything against her or to fuel her fears that, as a lesser woman who couldn’t give him a child, he would leave her.”
“Did she ever accuse him of that, of not supporting her, of wanting to leave?”
“No, not at all; she and I were still pretty close, even after she left, and I never once heard her say anything against Alex, she actually said how supportive he had been, the closest I ever heard her criticize him was to say that he didn’t understand, which wouldn’t have been hard because none of us understood what the hell was going on.”
“Did she accuse him of having an affair or of being attracted to anyone else?”
“Not in my hearing, and Alex never said that she did.”
“It sounds like she was pretty messed up to be honest.”
“Oh, if I’m being completely honest she was, it was all tears and tantrums, one minute she was begging Alex’s forgiveness, which he always told her that there was nothing he had to forgive her for, and the next she would be accusing him of not being supportive of her, of not understanding her or of not wanting to have children with her and that was why he was glad the baby had miscarried.”
“Which he wasn’t?”
“Hell, no, he wasn’t. He was more concerned for her; he didn’t care about anything except her safety and health.”
“That was after the miscarriage?”
“Not straight away. Immediately afterward she was fine, or seemed to be. Then about a month passed, and she was getting a bit teary from what Alex said. Then it got bad for a couple of months, up to six months after the miscarriage, it wasn’t long after that that she left.”
“It was to be expected though, wasn’t it, after she went through something like that?”
“For sure, absolutely, and we were all expecting it when it first happened, but nothing, and then it sort of jumped at us later on.”
“So not a good time for anyone.”
“Hey, don’t get the idea that this was a constant thing, you know, all day every day because it wasn’t like that. She’d be fine for a few weeks, almost back to her old self, and then it would hit her for an hour or a day.”
“Did she seek treatment at all?”
“Of course, she did, and she got some.”
“What was the prognosi
s?”
“That it had happened, and she’d get over it. She was a fit and healthy young woman with no medical issues and there was no reason why she wouldn’t fall pregnant again.”
“But that wasn’t enough.”
“It seemed to be, and I think given time she would have realized that to be the case. But I don’t think she got the chance, not fully, when she did realize it, it was too late. Or at least, it turned out to be too late.”
“OK, I’m going to keep going through this, but I think that we need to see Alex as soon as my access comes through.”
She nodded and at his direction began repacking the documents that he did not believe they would need.
“OK, look, Alice; I need some time to consider this, this is going to be us for the next few weeks, picking this all apart, reading, a lot of paperwork and repetition. What I want to do is to deconstruct the whole event, time-lines, evidence matching, comparisons, then put it all back together again. I already have questions about this evidence, but I need some time to pull it apart, think about it and to read some more. How about we continue this tomorrow?”
She nodded as he gathered up the notebook he had been scribbling in, a pile of papers that he had been reading, and his pen, which he placed into the courier bag he seemed to always carry. Alice walked with him to the front door which he opened and stepped through. She stood for a moment wondering what questions he might have but the thought stopped as he leaned forward and gently put his hand against her cheek.
Steve seemed to sense the questions in her and he smiled, trying to reassure her.
“Don’t worry, I will do the best that I can for you brother.”
He gently rubbed her cheek with his thumb, gave her a slow wink, and walked down the path toward the road.
Chapter Seven
When Alex had first been charged and had then been tried, Alice was living with Brian in their house off West 10th Avenue, sleeping together in the big master bedroom. But as the first appeal came closer, Brian became more distant and had started to sleep in the spare room downstairs at the back of the house.
He didn’t want to disturb her, he had said, or she him, according to his excuses. She didn’t believe him and had to admit to herself that, even with her misgivings, the hours they were both keeping had become extremely irregular. Alice had started to stay up late, pacing the floors thinking about Alex, about Hazel, and the trial, and now the appeal. Brian needed his sleep he said, to be up early and get to his business. She couldn’t argue with his logic but by then she couldn’t be bothered to argue with him at all.
For all her pacing, the long hours she spent reading, there had been nothing that she could have done to change the outcome. No reading or research helped, no flashes of inspiration that she could pass on to the lawyers.
All she had achieved was worry, the endless worry which was out of her control about an outcome that they had hoped wouldn’t come but had expected, anyway.
When she finally did fall into bed she would sleep fitfully, often waking up in the early morning, the room in total darkness, the heavy drapes stopping any light penetrating the room, even in daylight the drapes kept the room dark, which was how Brian liked it. He was a light sleeper and even a small amount of light disturbed him; the drapes kept it out, but now it was the cause of them sleeping apart, or his excuse. Alice had wondered after they had formally separated if the office blond had ever slipped in during the night.
Alice had to admit though that she didn’t think that Brian would have been so stupid given that he knew she hardly slept. She would get up at odd hours and, even in winter, would often come downstairs and sit outside on the porch. Unable or unwilling to sleep she had decided early on that prowling the house through the night was better than looking at the mocking green numbers of the electronic clock on her night stand.
How many hours, how many mornings in the complete darkness of the room had Alice lay there looking at those numbers, slowly blinking their way through the night? Each change a silent reinforcement of her inability to sleep, each passing second dragging her further away from sleep.
Time limped along, and she felt the truth of Bowie’s lyrics in the darkness, her attention drawn to the damned numbers, every minute toward another hour, every hour stretching to another day. It was always inevitable that she couldn’t and wouldn’t sleep and she would get up throw a wrap around her naked body and give up the pointless struggle for another night.
When it became obvious to them both that their marriage had well and truly foundered and was irretrievable, she went back to her parents’ empty house west of the university and Brian remained, eventually buying her out. She left the heavy drapes and the evil clock behind for him and didn’t bother having a clock in the main bedroom which had been her parents, but was now hers, lighter drapes as well, so that on a full moon, the room was lit up in a light, ethereal glow.
But not tonight, the new moon was a couple of days old, her cell phone was on charge in the kitchen and there was no clock to tell Alice what the time was, but it was still dark, and she had woken up quickly, with a start, with momentary panic and pleasurable pain as she found herself squeezing an erect nipple between her left thumb and index finger.
As she habitually slept, she was naked, and she had woken flushed and panting slightly. Then an image of Steve came to her, and she remembered the dream she had been having about him. She smiled and moved her right hand, still between her legs, slightly and smiled again as the damp warmth spread on the sheets beneath her, she shuddered as the moment finally passed and she found herself still breathing heavily through her mouth; trying to catch her breath but also hoping to stretch the moment out before she tried to remember the last time she had done this or had even felt like this.
She couldn’t remember.
Shit! How pathetic, what does that say about my life? she thought shaking her head slightly as she rolled over onto her side, pulling her knees up to her stomach, but leaving her right hand where it was.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had sex, on her own or with someone else. But as she lay there thinking about it, she realized with a degree of disappointment the last time was with Brian probably around the time that Alex had been found guilty. It was depressing that the event was so unmemorable that she couldn’t remember exactly, but it must have been Brian, there had been no one else since they had married. But after seven years of marriage their sex life was once a fortnight, if she was lucky, with Brian on top, missionary in the act and the lack of any excitement in it, foreplay was getting the lubricant out of the drawer, and after sex was a box of tissues.
But Alice smiled as she felt a small after shock ripple through her body. For the first time since probably the second or third year of her marriage she had climaxed, even if she had done it in her sleep, and on her own. She didn’t know whether to be embarrassed, pleased, or guilty that she had had a moment’s enjoyment while Alex was still in jail.
Her smile held as she realized that she didn’t feel guilty at all, she certainly felt odd, she felt alive and still horny, something else she hadn’t felt for so long. She closed her eyes and could still see the mental picture she had of Steve. Standing naked with his back toward her, silhouetted against the moonlight that was coming through her window on a warm summer’s night and about to rejoin her in the bed.
She held that thought as she closed her eyes and rolled onto her back, her hand remained, bringing her comfort, and soon her breathing increased again, and she licked her lips in anticipation.
Chapter Eight
Steve was at her house by ten o’clock the next morning.
He was bright and cheerful and keen to get started. His mood lifted even more when Alice opened the door. She was dressed in an old pair of jeans, clean but thin and threadbare in a few places. Well-worn and loved jeans, not bought from a trendy boutique in that state. A tight, white tank top and the clothes framed her figure well. Steve drew a short breath in appreciation and
she smiled coyly as she opened the door. It seemed to him that her mood was a little brighter and definitely happier than he had seen her before.
“Good morning,” she said.
Maybe she had had time to consider what they were trying to do, he wasn’t sure. It was possible she had realized that there was a chance they might find something. Whatever it was that had cheered her up overnight, she did look a lot better. Or, he considered correctly, maybe she had had a good night’s sleep.
“What is it?” he asked as he stepped inside, “you seem quite upbeat.”
“Nothing,” Alice smiled, “I’m feeling good and I’m happy to be alive.”
He smiled and nodded before stepping into the house while she closed the door behind him and then followed him into the kitchen.
“When I got home last night,” Steve said as he sat down in front of the papers on the kitchen table, “I had a look over the notes I made yesterday, and I have to say that from what I’m seeing, the prosecution’s case was rubbish. How it got a guilty verdict I have no idea, but I suppose that it’s one of the gambles of a jury system. You never know what might happen, or which way that they might go.”
“So, why didn’t the appeal succeed?”
“Because the defense didn’t attack the evidence at the appeal. All that they could do was to appeal the process, and as far as I can see, the presiding judge actually did a good job. In fact, he erred in favor of your brother, he certainly seems to have been biased that way. But in the end, the jury came back with a verdict and he couldn’t ignore it.”
“The evidence wasn’t great,” she said, but Steve wasn’t sure if it was a statement or a question.
“Well, you knew that, didn’t you?”
“We did. Well, we certainly thought we did but then at the trial, the process seemed to take a life of its own and sort of rolled over everything else.”
“I think your brother should have appealed that he didn’t have sufficient representation.”
“You think they should have attacked the evidence?”
“At the trial, yes I do. That’s the point of a defense, Alice, to attack the evidence. I can’t see any real evidence, nothing substantial, nothing that I’d be happy to hang a case like this on.”
