Angela's Dead

by Lou Peters

  ‘Go on, what is it?’

  ‘I’m trying to remember. I think something happened while we were browsing the market stalls... There’d been an incident.’

  ‘What sort of incident? Jackie enquired lifting her head in interest. She could see the look of perplexity on Rachel’s face and wondered at its cause.

  ‘An old woman must have been pushed in the crowds and she’d fallen over. Richard being the gentleman he is, had gone to her aid. He helped the old dear to her feet. She’d dropped her shopping bag and Richard had picked it up, replacing some of the items which had fallen out. I seem to remember she was a little shook up.’

  ‘No wonder.’

  ‘Yeah, you’re right, she looked like she was getting on a bit.’ He took her to one side and stood with her for a few moments making sure the old dear had been alright.’

  ‘And was she?’

  ‘It appeared so. We didn’t linger. Maybe we should, but there were other people milling around. The smell of frying onions on the hotdog stall wafted across to us, you know what it’s like.’

  ‘I certainly do. Nothing beats the smell of onions frying to get the old juices going.’

  ‘Exactly, it made us both feel ravenous. It was at that point we struggled out of the market in search of lunch.’

  ‘Well, I’m relieved to hear you’re at least hungry, sometimes.’

  Rachel ignored the comment, only having lost her appetite since Richard’s disappearance. ‘We nipped into one of the pubs off the market square. And before you say, I told you so, I admit to having half of lager with the meal. But that minuscule amount couldn’t be attributed to erasing my memory for the best part of twenty four hours.’

  ‘Jackie shrugged her shoulders, ‘go on, what happened next?’

  ‘Nothing out of the ordinary that I can recall. Richard had been a little thoughtful while we’d lunched and later that afternoon when we’d returned back here, he seemed a bit more subdued than normal, but that’s it. Perhaps he’s more concerned about his prospective business plans, than he’d confided in me.’ The sudden realisation hit Rachel. Could that be the reason for his disappearance? Worry over their financial situation. Her head was aching with the effort it had taken so far to restore the lost events.

  ‘How about yesterday morning, can you remember anything of that?’

  Rachel’s recollections had been vague, insubstantial, like looking through a piece of gauze. She had seen Richard that morning. Rising before her again, he’d been working in one of the outbuildings he was using as a workshop. Still in her dressing gown she’d walked down the path, taking him a cup of coffee. As she’d entered the workshop she’d seen he’d been hammering nails into pieces of wood. Had she asked him what he was up to? She couldn’t remember. Through the haze of her recollection, Richard had seemed a little off hand. She’d thought it odd that he hadn’t looked at her as she’d placed the coffee down in front of him. ‘There’s something I’ve got to do this morning. I’ll discuss it with you later,’ he’d said. She tried hard now to think what that something could have been. A meeting with the bank manager, the only thing she could come up with. Did they actually have a bank manager? Was this the key to Richard’s disappearance, this unknown something that he planned to do? It had to be. Did he tell her where he was going or what his intentions were? Rachel didn’t think so, but she couldn’t be certain. Why couldn’t she remember? Just when she felt she was on the brink of overcoming the mental barrier, everything again went blank, like a heavy mist rolling in, fogging up her thoughts. It was so frustrating, especially as she had done so well to remember what had occurred on Tuesday. Rachel’s last point of recall was of re-entering the cottage yesterday morning after leaving Richard in the workshop. After that the memories abruptly ceased. No matter how hard she tried to remember her head was empty to the events of the rest of the day. Had that been the last time she’d seen him? Rachel just didn’t know.

  Jackie had listened, silently for the most part; pleased her plan had borne fruit. Rachel, however, was left anxious and uncertain by her recollections. She admitted to Jackie she’d seen Richard the previous morning. However, she didn’t give away the feelings aroused by the recall or what he’d said to her. Rachel was still at a loss to know where Richard had gone and if he remained alive. She couldn’t shake the persistent feeling of dread that something really bad had happened to him and that she somehow, could have prevented it.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Thursday Evening 10 December 2009

  Uncertain of how it had occurred, but here they were seated in Jack’s Corsa in the visitors’ car park at Boynton Police Station. It’d seemed like a good idea after a couple of glasses of Chardonnay and a slice of pizza. Which Rachel now wished she hadn’t forced down, her stomach churning so much she thought she might throw up. Rachel had experienced the sensation of cold feet before they’d arrived. Her mind changed almost from the outset of the twenty minute car journey. She’d have insisted Jack turn back. However, travelling down the dark lanes there didn’t appear to be anywhere suitable to put that into effect. Farm gates allowing cattle and tractors entry into the fields, the one possibility for such action, only revealed at the last minute illuminated in the speeding car’s headlights as they passed by. ‘Jesus Christ Jack, temper the speed, can’t you. I don’t want to end up another statistic.’ Rachel had urged Jackie to slow down. Even Rachel was unfamiliar with the bend infested roads and she’d lived in the area for a month. But then again, you couldn’t tell Jackie anything she didn’t want to hear.

  ‘We’re here now, so we might as well go in.’

  ‘I don’t know if I want to, Jackie. And anyway we’ve had a drink.’ Rachel tried to add weight to her protestations. ‘They’ll smell it on our breath and then you’ll be breathalysed, lose your license... lose your job.’

  ‘God Rache, when did you turn into Miss Negativity two thousand and nine? Hasn’t taken you long to change from a town mouse into a country mouse.’

  ‘Is that meant to be an insult? Sorry, but I still don’t think it’s a good idea.’

  ‘I thought you were worried about Richard. That you could see him lying injured, needing assistance,’ Jackie countered, laying on a thick helping of the guilt factor. Although, if that had been the case, she’d concluded Richard would’ve probably been dead by now. She decided it was best not to share that particular unhelpful thought with Rachel.

  Jackie’s words hit home. What was Rachel afraid of? Appearing foolish? ‘You’re right, come on, let’s go in.’

  Scrabbling out of the car the cold night air hit them with minus degrees. Stinging noses and causing eyes to water. Above them the freezing night sky was a mass of stars. Jackie popped an extra strong mint into her mouth. Rachel refused the one she was offered. Didn’t Jack know that action was a dead give-away. If the police smelt mints on her breath they’d know for sure she’d had a drink. Rachel said nothing. She didn’t know what the legal limits for alcohol consumption were; perhaps Jackie would pass the test.

  The police station was a more imposing building than Rachel had first supposed. At some point in time it had been centralised and its jurisdiction increased to encompass more of the surrounding villages. Four floors high, it had a fairly new appearance. Like the part of the town it was located. The light splashing out of the wide, illuminated reception area appeared to form shallow pools in the slight indentations on the concrete steps leading up to the building. As if there’d been a sudden heavy downpour.

  Rachel felt Jackie’s hand on her back, urging her forward up the incline. As the reception doors swung inwards an electronic bell buzzed above their heads, announcing the women’s arrival. The expansion of air as the double doors sealed together unkindly excluding the winter’s night, clearly audible behind them. Rachel was relieved to see there were no other members of the public lurking against the counter to witness her fragility.

  Jackie left her side to browse the photograph and poster covered walls. Remainin
g standing at the counter, Rachel’s eyes were drawn to the latest drink drive campaign. It was too explicit for her tastes. Too crimson, the detail of the face of the young woman, too magnified. The shards of glass embedded in her lacerated face, too real. She wished she’d not seen it. Her imagination transposed the face on the poster to that of Richard’s. She looked away and saw Jackie on the other hand being kept immensely entertained studying a photograph of a brawny group of young men in shorts, who Rachel presumed were a police football team. The men stood side by side, arms folded at chest height. Each one smug, a self satisfied look on his face, lips parted in pleasure revealing white teeth, a dentist’s dream. The man in the centre of the back row stood head and shoulders above his comrades. Lifted aloft in his massive square hands a silver trophy adorned in blue and white ribbons. The same colours as the mud splattered clothes the group wore.

  ‘I always did like a man in uniform,’ Jackie called over to her. ‘But now I think I like a man out of uniform, too. Come and see, Rache.’

  ‘Shh Jack, someone might hear you, and I’m not moving from this counter.’ Rachel glanced around for the security camera which she knew must be somewhere recording the women’s every move. They were probably being watched at this very minute on a close circuit television screen in another location.

  ‘Do you think one of us should go out and come back in again to set the buzzer off?’

  ‘No, I don’t. You’ll just have to be patient.’ The longer Rachel stood at the counter the more her nerves were kicking in. She was feeling anything but patient herself. She hadn’t realised before how much she disliked police stations. Which wasn’t surprising, this being the first one Rachel had had the occasion to enter. It was a similar sort of sensation she’d had when she’d visited anyone in hospital. The intense feeling of once you were inside the establishment, you might never be allowed to leave. Rachel had always been glad when the visitors’ bell had finally rung and she could escape into the fresh air. Not like some of the poor sods she’d seen in there, whose only way out would be in a box.

  ‘Can I help you?’

  Caught unawares she looked up to find a young uniformed woman standing in front of her. Rachel had no idea where she’d suddenly appeared from, hearing no sound of her footsteps as she’d come to stand behind the counter. Perhaps she’d floated in. Resisting the urge to lean over to check her feet were on the ground, Rachel remained where she stood. She sensed more than saw Jackie at her side. ‘Yes I’d like to report a missing person,’ her voice barely audible, to Rachel sounded like thunder in the stillness of the room.

  ‘I’m sorry can you speak up a little?’ The female constable smiled in an effort to put her at her ease. The police officer was cocooned behind a reinforced glass frontage. Giving the appearance that Rachel could be in a bank or a post office. She could feel the tension in her legs and discreetly displaced her weight from one foot to the other, to help alleviate the sensation.

  The young woman, concluding the women on the opposite side of the counter posed no threat, unlocked and slid back part of her reinforced glass defence. ‘It makes it easier to converse,’ she explained. ‘Maybe we could make a start by taking a few details.’ Smiling she sat down on the typist chair in front of a computer screen. Her fingers poised above the keyboard, ready for action. The policewoman’s hair was a beautiful shade of auburn and attractively framed her porcelain features. A small band of freckles adorned the bridge of the woman’s nose adding to her appeal. However, the most starling thing about the woman’s face were her eyes. They sparkled, containing shades of emerald and jade. Rachel wondered if, in fact, the constable could be wearing cosmetically enhanced contacts.

  As requested, Rachel gave her name, address, telephone number and Richard’s date of birth. Not quite knowing why the police would require that final piece of information. A gentle nudge in the ribs from Jackie and a motion from her hand, to let her friend know she should dampen it down and not let her nerves get the better of her. Rachel modified her tone so she no longer appeared to be shouting, an over compensation from her previous stilted effort at speech. Although Rachel was standing and the girl behind the desk was seated, they were able to retain eye contact due to the design of the rear of the reception area and the positioning of the computer screen. The policewoman allowed Rachel to finish speaking, before effortlessly keying the responses she provided. Rachel was gratified at the lack of surprise when she’d advised Richard was born in November nineteen seventy. Even to her ears that sounded like a very long time ago.

  ‘When was the last time you saw Mr. Johnson?’ The police officer enquired. She looked up when Rachel told her, ‘about nine thirty yesterday morning.’ No comment was made, but Rachel read in those amazing eyes what the woman was obviously thinking. It would be different if it was a child that had gone missing, expecting the alarm to be raised after a few hours. However with a thirty nine year old male...

  ‘Can you give me a brief description of Mr. Johnson?’

  Rachel filled her in on the details and it gave her some hope the woman continued to tap everything into the computer. She didn’t know if Richard’s disappearance was being taken seriously, or if the officer was just going through the motions. Perhaps it was merely police procedure, or maybe the information would be deleted as soon as Rachel left the station. At the moment however, it was having the desired reassuring effect of calming her.

  ‘Have you brought a recent photograph of your boyfriend along with you?’ The woman’s smile lit up her face and Rachel thought she was in the wrong profession. She should have been advertising some cosmetic that promised to leave your skin silky soft and blemish free.

  ‘No, I’m sorry, I never thought.’

  ‘Never mind, some girls carry them around with them, in their purse or bag.’

  ‘Yes, I probably have one of the two of us in my handbag. Unfortunately, I’ve left it back at the cottage.’

  The questions continued: Had they had any kind of discourse? What had Richard been wearing when last seen? Had Mr. Johnson done this sort of thing before? Could he be staying with friends, or relatives? Rachel admitted she didn’t have any knowledge of Richard’s friends.

  ‘After two years?’ The policewoman asked incredulously.

  ‘Perhaps he doesn’t have any friends,’ Jackie piped in. ‘He’s never mentioned any names to me.’

  ‘Yes Richard... Mr. Johnson is more of a loner, self contained and rather unassuming. If he didn’t associate with people, it was by his choice. He has a very likeable personality. Richard runs his own small business, or did until we moved here. He’s in the process of setting it up again. He’s a landscape gardener,’ Rachel added, before the woman had a chance to pose the question. ‘He did have a teenage boy working with him a while ago, but he left to join the army and Richard never replaced him. I think he prefers to work on his own.’

  ‘And how about family?’

  ‘Richard’s an only child since his younger brother died some years ago and his parents are getting on a bit. I didn’t want to worry them just yet, so I haven’t contacted them.’ Rachel’s bout of nerve induced waffling, was making Richard sound like some sort of friendless loser. Someone who shouldn’t be allowed out without supervision, instead of the strong character he really was.

  ‘I can understand you not wishing to involve Mr. and Mrs. Johnson senior, just for the moment.’ Her tone came across as sympathetic, but Rachel was starting to think the policewoman was on automatic pilot, programmed to emit the correct responses with the corresponding facial expressions.

  ‘What happened to the brother?’

  Rachel was hoping she wasn’t going to be asked that particular question. She dithered over her response knowing how it was going to sound... ‘Drugs I’m afraid, accidental overdose.’ Rachel saw the woman raise her finely plucked eyebrows, until they’d partially disappeared beneath her fringe, prompting her to quickly continue. ‘Please don’t get the wrong impression, Mr. Johnson would never
touch drugs. Especially witnessing the affect his brother’s death had on his parents.’ Clouds of doubt formed in the policewoman’s eyes. It was amazing what the mere mention of the word drugs could do. Rachel was surprised she didn’t shut down the computer and say well, there we are then. We now know what’s happened to the man. Why are you still here wasting my time? But she didn’t, she tried a different tack.

  ‘I know it’s painful Miss Smith and I hesitate before asking you this, but have you considered the possibility Mr. Johnson may have left you, for someone else?’

  Rachel supposed in her opinion that suggestion was marginally better than family history repeating itself, by Richard taking his own life from an overdose. Jackie and Rachel shared a glance.

  ‘No, no that’s just not possible. If I’m not sure of anything else, I’m sure that Richard would never be unfaithful. What you’re intimating is completely out of the question.’

  ‘I agree,’ Jackie interjected. ‘You only have to see them together to know they’re a couple very much besotted with each other.’ Rachel had been rather surprised and a little embarrassed at Jackie’s outburst, but grateful for her show of solidarity. She squeezed her friend’s hand to show her appreciation.

  ‘You wouldn’t be the first one, to be the last to know.’ The policewoman wasn’t going to let it drop. ‘Men are such devious sods.’