Cut Down To Size: A Sebastian Cork Novel

by Neal Davies

  Sebastian smiles with gratification. “No I’m fine, thank you. I can’t stay long but there are a couple of important matters I must speak to you about. The first is we have charged a man with your son’s murder.” Mr Cohen’s lip begins to quiver and Sebastian can see he is having trouble responding, so he leaves the sofa, squats down next to the arm of Mr Cohen’s chair and places his hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, there’s only you and I here. You can let it out now.”

  Steve Cohen throws his open hands over his face and sobs uncontrollably into them. Sebastian pats his shoulder until he eventually runs out of tears and then he moves graciously back to the sofa and waits patiently for him to find some composure.

  “I’m so sorry, Sebastian. I think everything has finally caught up with me,” he leans forward and takes several tissues from a box sitting on the coffee table, blows his nose and continues, “Was it anyone we know?”

  Sebastian waves his head in the negative and responds. “No, but it was someone Michael knew at the gym.”

  Mr Cohen looks at Sebastian inquisitively through polished eyes. “Why? What would make him kill my son?”

  Sebastian reaches his hand into the inside pocket of his jacket and holds out the deed. “This. This is why.” Mr Cohen accepts the document and begins unfolding it as Sebastian tells him its history.

  “Once he found out what the property was really worth he borrowed the money off you to secure it. His business was already in the hands of the receivers and too late to save but he wanted to make sure your debt was well and truly taken care of. I have contacted the company that wants the land and they will be in touch with you tomorrow with an offer well over one million dollars. Hopefully, it will not only pay off the debt you have been left with but you will also be able to retire comfortably. There is one favour I must ask you though and I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t considerably important: if anyone should ask you about the property it is imperative you tell them that you bought it, not your son. I know I am asking a lot of you but I need your word on this, please; otherwise, everything your son did for you will be lost. You may want to look at this as his legacy.”

  Mr Cohen looks into Sebastian’s eyes and says, “You have my word. I don’t know how to thank you, Sebastian, but I do know that this will help towards my wife’s recovery. It was hard enough to lose our son and then we had no idea what we would do if they took our family home; he was born in this house, you know. I will make sure his name is clear of any debt and I will also put some aside for a scholarship in his name to help up and coming tri-athletes.”

  Sebastian stands, shakes Mr Cohen’s hand and begins his journey home.

  17. A DAY TO REMEMBER – WEDNESDAY

  Over the following days, time passes agonisingly slow for Sebastian and he is finding his world so incredibly monotonous that even the ticking of the antique mantle clock that has so often soothed his tensions while having a quiet drink and read in the study, is getting under his skin; so he decides he needs a project and begins spending an unusual amount of time locked away in his office at the rear of the house. Cynthia doesn’t object to a certain amount of ‘me time’ but normally when Sebastian is home, he often requires her help for one thing or another and even though it can become a source of annoyance, she misses it when it doesn’t happen, so she decides to knock on his door. After entering she can see a wad of papers sitting on his desk and he’s at the fax machine with his back to her, methodically scanning over one newly printed document, while blindly tearing off yet another.

  “Sorry for disturbing you, Seb, but I have been feeling a little concerned for you. Are you okay?”

  He turns and looks back over his shoulder at her. “Of course, my love; why do you ask?”

  Cynthia gracefully glides over to him and puts her arms over his shoulders. “Well the only chance I get to see you lately is at meal times and I thought now that the case you were working on is officially over, we could spend a little more time together.”

  He responds affectionately, “I’m sorry, Cynthia. I took on a little project of my own because I thought too much of me would get under your skin.”

  Cynthia exhales a deep sigh. “Too much of anyone gets under my skin, darling, but not enough of you can be like losing a piece of me. Anyway, what is this project you are working on?”

  He kisses her on the forehead and busily ambles to the rear of his desk, places his new arrival on top of the other papers and then stoops over to open the top drawer. “Never mind that; I have a little surprise for you. Remember that play that was showing at the beachside theatre? You know the one that all your friends were raving about?”

  Cynthia smirks. “You mean the one you said wild dogs couldn’t drag you to?”

  Sebastian eyes look up from his stooped position. “Yes, that’s the one.”

  “The one you said you would rather spend your time learning to crochet than attend some unknown amateurish production of that sort?”

  Sebastian now upright tilts his head slightly to one side. “Okay, I get the point; I was a little over the top with my criticism. Anyway, I also realised we haven’t been doing much together of late, so I thought we could kill two birds with one stone. This Friday I have booked the two of us for lunch at one of my favourite little restaurants near the theatre and here is a printout of the tickets for the play.” Sebastian smiles and holds out the tickets as though he is presenting a trophy to a well deserving recipient.

  Cynthia stands there with her head pushed forward and mouth agape then responds, “Really?”

  He smiles lovingly. “Of course! Would I lie to you?” Cynthia frowns for a second and Sebastian is quick to pick up on it.

  “What? What’s wrong, my love?”

  She closes her eyes and releases a deep sigh. “We have Paul and his fiancée coming for dinner on Saturday and there is so much to do before they come. I was really counting on getting it done on Friday.”

  “What if I help you Saturday morning?”

  Her head shoots up again. “Would you? Could you?”

  “Of course! All you have to do is let me know what you want and I will do it.”

  18. FRIDAY ARRIVES

  Friday arrives, the weather is windy and cold and Sebastian tells Cynthia to wait inside until he reverses the Bentley from the garage but she is without patience and keen to get going, so she waits rigidly on the porch with her gloved hands hidden deep inside the pockets of her woollen red coat.

  When the car eventually pulls up alongside the house, she quickly hops in, closes the door and wiggles out of her coat. Sebastian looks at her curiously and she gives him a questioning glare back. “Well? It was too cold to take it off out there!”

  He waves his head rapidly from side to side. “If you had waited inside like I asked you to, there wouldn’t have been a need to put yourself through such contortions in the first place!”

  She folds her coat neatly and twists herself into a position to put her knees on the front seat and places her coat in the back while Sebastian sits quietly glaring straight in front of him waiting for Cynthia to complete her task so he can get underway. Cynthia swings herself halfway back around, caresses his hair, kisses Sebastian on the cheek and then buckles up. “Well, what are we waiting for?” She says with a cheeky grin on her face.

  Sebastian looks sideways at her, then back again and mumbles, “Driving Miss crazy!” Cynthia smiles, Sebastian motors forward and within minutes they are headed out of their large black gates and making a run through the smog and haze of the bustling city traffic. Once out of town they relax into the drive while cutting through the centre of patchwork quilted amber to green paddocks lined with white railed fences until they eventually reach a road that winds its way in and out of sight of the choppy blue ocean. The wind outside the car whistles intermittently as it flows over the chrome mirrors on each guard and the odd whooshing gust is so strong it even sways the solid old Bentley on straight stretches where flat paddocks exist.

  Cynthia
loves the ocean and begins craving for more as she gazes out of the passenger window toward its vast beauty at every opportunity she can get. Her childlike happiness picks up further as they cross over a bridge that spans an inlet lined by green grassy knolls where flocks of pelicans gather along the flat white bordering sands and protruding grey timber jetties, as they shelter from the prevailing robust winds and rollercoaster swells. Cynthia swings her head back toward Sebastian with thoughtful eyes. “We really should have brought the camera, Seb. Look at that scenery.”

  But Sebastian doesn’t answer; he just glances across and contently smiles and then refocuses on the road. A moment later Sebastian hears a strange loud noise like a passing car and he is soon inhaling the recognisable odour of kelp and salty air as it comes bursting through Cynthia’s wound down window with a gush. “WHATTHEHECKAREYOUDOING, WOMAN? DO YOU WANT US BOTH TO CATCH OUR DEATH?”

  Cynthia’s long, glowing, ebony hair sweeps and swirls around her face in gay abandon as it blows about in the roaring wind. She turns laughingly with a shout, “NO, SEB, I WANT US BOTH TO LIVE!”

  Sebastian, trying to steer the wheel with one hand while brushing his thick salt and pepper hair down with the other, sees her snatching at the strands caught in her mouth and across her face and tightens his lips as he holds back his own merriment with great difficulty. “CYNTHIA, MY LOVE… I’M BLOODYWELL FREEZING!

  She winds up the window and then looks back at him half jokingly and half scornfully. “Old Fuddy-Duddy!”

  He glances back at her with messed up hair and red cheeks and they both burst into laughter; they continue their merriment for the rest of the journey and it’s not long before they turn up a narrow paved road, lined with hedges until it opens into a large parking area surrounded by pine log railings. Sebastian pulls the Bentley up as close as possible to the old building, which was once a lighthouse but has since been skilfully renovated into an elite restaurant, sitting high on a cliff with a sheer drop to the ocean below. They quickly snatch up their coats from the back seat and half run, half walk as they clumsily try to put them on in the strong winds, while working their way toward the reception area and inner warmth of the restaurant. The gales are cold, fierce and relentless and the conifers that normally stand tall and firm are swaying like hula dancers in the howling gusts.

  Once inside, Sebastian and Cynthia follow one of the staff to a cosy secluded table for two with floor to ceiling windows that overlook the ocean and they sit there quietly gazing out at the undulating and surging white capped waves that are being whisked into a frenzy by the gale force winds. Even the seagulls which would normally fly with rhythm and style find themselves soaring and diving in an out of control manner as they follow the last of the fishing boats into the harbour.

  Cynthia, who seems momentarily caught in a hypnotic trance, ponderously brings her thoughts back to the room and romantically gazes at her husband. “It seems ironic that one can feel so warm, calm and safe while gazing out over the exact opposite, don’t you think, Seb?”

  He grins at her amorously. “Most definitely, my love. The Ying and the Yang are total opposites yet create a perfect balance. A bit like us in some ways, don’t you think?”

  She reaches over the table and puts both her hands on the top of his. “There are times when you can be so romantic, Seb! Thank you for bringing me, darling.”

  “You’re welcome. Now, what has happened to those bloody menus? I’m famished,” he says seriously, making Cynthia’s eyes leap in the direction of the ceiling. The waitress soon appears to take their orders. After lunch they drive down the road to the theatre and Sebastian goes up to the ticket box to get their passes; then returns back and hands Cynthia her pass. “There you are, my love. Would you mind going in ahead of me? Something I ate at the restaurant doesn’t seem to be agreeing with my stomach.”

  She looks at him with concern. “Would you rather we went home, Seb? Or perhaps we should go to the clinic?”

  He smiles at her calmingly. “No, no, I’m fine; nothing more than a tummy ache, that’s all. You go ahead. I’ll join you presently, my love.”

  It’s getting close to interval and Cynthia has been so enchanted by the play, she doesn’t realise Sebastian has been missing for almost an hour but when she does she begins to panic until he comes strolling down the aisle with an armful of snacks. “Are you okay, Seb? I was getting worried,” she whispers.

  Sebastian takes a seat next to her and whispers back, “I am now, my love, thank you. Here, I brought you a cold drink” She smiles at him, accepts his offerings and they enjoy the rest of the play together and then head home. That evening Cynthia tells Sebastian how much she has appreciated the wonderful day she has had and they retire to an early evening.

  19. FOOD FOR THOUGHT – SATURDAY

  It’s Saturday morning and the alarm goes off on Cynthia’s side of the bed and she flings back the blankets not only on her side but on Sebastian’s as well.

  Sebastian, still half asleep, remains in a foetal position while reaching down to his shins in an effort to find the comforting covers that have been removed. “Cynthia! What’s going on?” he asks while rubbing the tips of his fingers up and down each side of his brow.

  “Come on, Seb! We have a million things to do today. Don’t you remember? Paul and his fiancée are coming to dinner this evening and I need to get to the supermarket to buy some fresh fillets of fish and something scrumptious for dessert.”

  Sebastian, now sitting upright, muffles a yawn into the back of his hand and while peering at her from baggy eyes he responds, “What’s that got to do with me?”

  Cynthia glides over to the bed, thrusts her hands on her hips and with lips pulled tight she lets him have it, “Sebastian Cork, have you forgotten already? You promised me you would help today; otherwise I would have stayed home yesterday and had everything ready for our guests! All I am asking you to do today is prepare the vegetables so there is less for me to worry about when I get back from shopping; now I don’t think that is asking too much, do you?”

  Sebastian can see the look in his wife’s eyes is not one to be contended with, “No, no not at all. It slipped my mind temporarily. Just give me a moment to collect myself and I will head downstairs for a shower.”

  Cynthia, still in a hurry to get ready, turns around in the direction of the bathroom but not before giving him a grateful glance. “I’ll leave a note on the kitchen table of what needs doing to make it easier for you. Sebastian huffs, swings out of bed and begins his journey to the shower downstairs. Once they are both ready they join each other in the kitchen for breakfast, Cynthia gives Sebastian a list of what she needs from him and then leaves to buy the required groceries.

  The morning wears on slowly until Cynthia eventually arrives home from shopping and finds Sebastian sitting at the kitchen table reading the local paper and sipping on coffee. He looks over his shoulder as she enters the room and holds his mug in the air. “Can I get you a coffee, my love?” he says nonchalantly.

  “Seb! You were supposed to have prepared the vegetables for me! Please, please, please don’t tell me you have forgotten!” she says desperately as her arms go limp with shopping bags.

  He swings around in his chair. “In the oven my love, just waiting for you to turn them on.”

  Cynthia places the bags of groceries on the floor and throws her arms around his neck. “I’m sorry, Seb. I was just concerned that you may have forgotten. You do have a habit of doing that sort of thing, you know.”

  He kisses her and whispers. “Only when my mind is preoccupied with other things; I am sure you will get the opportunity to rouse me up again when a new case comes along.”

  She straightens back up and smacks him on the shoulder. “You make me sound like I am at you consistently!”

  He laughs out loud. “Not at all, my love! It’s never consistent; otherwise I would be expecting it.”

  Cynthia hits him again. “Enough of this frivolity; I have too much to do!” So she beg
ins unpacking her grocery bags and he buries his head back into his paper while sipping on his coffee.

  The afternoon flies by and it’s not long until Paul and his fiancée, Chelsea, are due to arrive. Cynthia has showered, dressed and worked diligently on her makeup and when Sebastian makes his way back upstairs and into the bedroom, she does a little pirouette and asks him how she looks.

  He looks her up and down and responds with, “You are a picture of sartorial elegance, my love.”

  She smiles lovingly at him and before she has a chance to return the compliment the doorbell chimes and Cynthia makes her graceful unhurried way downstairs toward the front door, while Sebastian follows her down to the landing but then splits off in another direction. Cynthia welcomes Paul and introduces herself to his fiancée with an eloquent smile and a peck on the cheek then points them to the hat and coat stand in the hall. She then leads them into the den where Sebastian is waiting and he approaches Paul, shakes his hand and then moves towards Paul’s fiancée.

  “Hello, you must be Chelsea. Paul has told me so much about you,” he says and then greets her with a kiss on the cheek. She’s a tall slender girl with large blue eyes and short dark hair and he doesn’t have to bend to kiss her like he does with Cynthia.

  She smiles graciously at her host and replies, “I hope he only told you good things!”

  Sebastian smiles back. “Of course, of course. Now, can I get the two of you a drink?”

  Sebastian gets Paul a beer and Chelsea a mineral water and while Sebastian and Paul are talking, Cynthia breaks the ice with Chelsea. “I hear you are a model Chelsea; are you freelance or contracted?”

  “A bit of both, Cynthia. My parents have a line of lingerie stores and I also do work for my aunt. You might have heard of her… Estelle Hollingsworth?”

  A surprised look brushes over Cynthia’s face. “Of course I have! And not only is she famous but she is a lovely person as well. My friend Clarissa and I run the odd charity event from time to time and your aunt has been kind enough to be a guest and she has also sent us some of her new season labels to auction off.”