‘It’s okay, you know. I instructed my solicitor yesterday to start proceedings. James phoned me from work and demanded to know why I had hired you and what I had hoped to gain from it.’
Her hand pulled on his shoulder causing him to turn so he could see her. She was about six inches shorter than him and in that moment he never would have put her age as late-forties; she looked at least a decade younger.
‘I told him that he could go and fuck himself and that I wanted a divorce. I told him to find a hotel as I was getting the locks changed.’
He watched her speaking as she drew a finger down his chest. It was clear what she wanted and he felt powerless to resist.
‘I don’t think this is a good idea, Frankie. You’re my client…if anyone ever found out…’
‘Who will know? Nobody will disturb us. We are two consenting adults.’
‘But you’re still married,’ he said pushing imagined thoughts of them kissing from his mind.
‘I’m separated. It’s not the same thing.’
He could resist no longer and the two locked lips hard. Her hands were all over his body, sliding his jacket and tie off before ripping his shirt open. They made love on the rug in front of the fireplace, like two caged animals finally released.
*
‘How did it go?’
‘It scared him pretty bad, I reckon,’ Tim Williams said into the phone.
‘Good. So do you think he did it?’
‘What? Killed the Russian? Not sure, but he certainly had the motive.’
‘You did well, Tim. Where is he now?’
‘You’re not going to like it, boss.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘He is round with your missus now.’
‘Probably sharing the photographs he took of me and that tart yesterday,’ Benold suggested.
‘He’s certainly sharing something with her,’ Williams smirked.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, I’m sitting in my car outside your house and the lights just went out. Our mutual friend is still inside. There’s either been a power cut or…’
‘The hypocritical bitch!’
‘It strikes me as rather ironic that the woman divorcing you for adultery is now at it with the man she hired to prove you were cheating,’ Williams smirked again. ‘What do you want me to do?’
Benold thought before answering, ‘Stay there, get photos of him leaving. I’ll teach him to mess with me.’
FRIDAY 29 NOVEMBER
25
Carmichael was in his favourite chair with his head in his hands, nursing a second consecutive morning hangover when Melissa arrived.
‘Jesus Christ!’ she exclaimed. ‘You look terrible. Is everything okay?’
‘Not really, no. I have a headache, I feel ill and I cannot stop belching.’
‘What happened to you?’
‘You don’t want to know,’ he said, closing his eyes to block out the light that was making his head throb more.
‘You can trust me, boss,’ she said chirpily. ‘I won’t judge.’
‘You ever sleep with someone and regret it immediately?’
Melissa brought over a steaming mug of coffee and sat down on the other side of the desk.
‘I’m not moving until you fill me in on everything,’ she said.
He considered her for a moment. He really didn’t like the idea of telling his P.A. the sordid details of his love life, but, depending on what came out about the previous night, it could have repercussions on them both, so he decided to divulge.
‘I went to Frankie Benold’s house last night…’
‘Jesus!’ she interrupted. ‘You slept with her?’
‘Yeah, but it gets worse. I went round to drop off the report and explain what we had found out about her sleazy husband. She opened a bottle of wine and one thing led to another…’
Melissa was snickering, ‘I didn’t know you had it in you,’ she said. ‘Good for you!’
‘You aren’t annoyed?’
‘Annoyed? No. Surprised? Yes. Was it awkward when you both got up this morning?’
‘That’s just it. I woke up at about five with this headache and decided to scarper so there wouldn’t be that awkwardness between us. I quickly dressed and snuck out the door only to be confronted by a reporter, taking photos of me on his phone.’
‘You’re kidding!’
‘I wish I was.’
‘So who was this reporter?’
‘I’m not sure…I caught him in here yesterday, going through our paperwork.’
‘In here? He broke in?’
‘Seems so, yes. He told me he was writing a story about an old case I had been involved with back when I had been in the Met and wanted my comments.’
‘What did you say?’
‘I told him to fuck off, but then he turned up at Frankie’s house this morning. I guess he must have followed me when I left here last night.’
‘But what would he gain from taking photographs of you there? For all he knows, that is where you live or where your girlfriend lives.’
‘Well I’m hoping that is what he thinks, but there’s something about his appearance that I don’t trust.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I don’t know…I can’t put my finger on it, but I don’t trust him.’
‘Did you confront him about it?’
‘I didn’t get the chance. He was taking the photographs from his car and then drove off when I ran over to him.’
‘You think maybe he is looking to blackmail you or something?’
‘I’ve no idea. I can’t think straight this morning.’
‘’You want me to nip out and get you some painkillers?’
‘Would you? That would be great. I need to get this shit sorted.’
Without further word, Melissa headed out the door to the local convenience store five minutes down the road. His eyes were still closed when the office door opened ten minutes later.
‘Melissa? Is that you? You were quick,’ he said without looking up.
‘Mr Carmichael?’ said a familiar voice.
He lowered his hands to confirm who was there.
‘Lauren?’ he said, puzzled by her early appearance.
‘Hi,’ she said. ‘Is now a good time? I know we don’t have an appointment, but I was on the way to work and hoped you might be free for a five minute chat. I thought if I came in early, you might not have quite started working a new case.’
He was going to argue that there was nothing further for them to discuss, but he didn’t have the fight in him, so he indicated for her to take a seat and continue.
‘I know that when we spoke on Wednesday, you were unhappy that I had lied about the retainer I had promised and I want you to know that I am truly sorry about that. You must understand that I was desperate…am desperate. I hoped that once I had explained my suspicions to you, you would jump at the chance to help me…’
‘I told you yesterday, Lauren: I don’t work for free.’
‘I appreciate that, Mr Carmichael, and I wouldn’t expect you to. That’s what I came here to tell you. I do have some savings and I am going to work extra shifts at work to get the money required to get you to help me.’
‘Lauren, you’re not listening to me. My services do not come cheap so I have a policy of only taking on work that I believe I can succeed at. For instance, if you were here asking me to prove that your partner was cheating on you and you had some evidence of strange behaviour, hotel receipts, that kind of thing, I would happily take the case. If you thought your partner was cheating but only because it was your gut feeling, I would probably turn the case down. There was nothing you told me two days ago that made me think I could achieve what you wanted.’
‘Really? But his eyes…it was him, Mr Carmichael, I know it.’
‘I don’t doubt that you are convinced of this man’s guilt, but that worries me too…I’m not sure you would accept it if I proved that he wasn�
�t responsible and that it had to be someone else.’
‘But that wouldn’t happen; you would prove it was him because it was.’
‘That’s what I mean, Lauren. There: you won’t listen to reason.’
‘What will it take to convince you? He lived in the same city, he is a convicted rapist and murderer and the details of his attack are so similar to those of my mother. All you need to do is prove he didn’t have an alibi for the time of the attack and we’ve got him.’
‘It’s not that easy. Your mother’s assault was twenty-four years ago! I can’t remember what I had for breakfast last week, let alone where I was on some day in September 1989! I’m sure not many people could recall what they were doing that day or who they were with. I don’t see how I can prove if he did or did not have an alibi for that date.’
‘Polygraph me.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘I’ll take a lie detector test to prove that it was him. Will that convince you?’
‘This is not the Jeremy Kyle Show, Lauren. All a lie detector would prove is that you believe what you are telling me. It does not mean that he did it.’
‘Please, Mr Carmichael?’
‘I’ll level with you Lauren: I did some digging around in the life of Nathan Green yesterday. I read the court transcripts of the three attacks he was convicted for. I read your therapist’s report on your post-hypnotic regression and I will admit there are similarities, but there are also disparities too. For instance, you were adamant that the man who attacked your mother wore gloves. Green did not wear gloves when he attacked the other three. In fact, it was his manicured hands that helped the police link those three cases together. There’s also the proximity of the other scenes of attack to the main road. The flat where your mother was attacked is a little off the beaten track, unlike the others.’
‘They are minor details.’
‘Yes, minor, but still valid. I even went and spoke with Green’s father yesterday.’
‘You did?’
‘That’s right. I found his address online and paid him a visit.’
‘What did he say?’
‘He spoke passionately about his son and was clearly still grieving for the loss. He was adamant that his son had nothing to do with the attack on your mother and, if anything, he didn’t believe his son was guilty of the offences he was convicted for.’
‘He could be lying.’
‘Jesus Christ, Lauren!’ he exclaimed. ‘I’m still not getting through to you! There is no evidence linking Green to the rape of your mother. You can believe it all you like, but there is no proof. There is nothing more I can do for you.’
She looked shaken by his outburst.
‘I’ll be on my way then,’ she eventually said, moving towards the door.
‘Lauren, I’m sorry I can’t help you. You need to put this all behind you and move on with your life. I know how difficult it is to live in the shadow of the past. Believe me: you need to move on.’
She wasn’t listening and rushed from the office reaching for a tissue to wipe her eyes as she did. She nearly bumped into Melissa at the front door to the building.
‘Who was that?’ she asked when she was back in the office.
‘Lauren Roper.’
‘The woman who said her mum had been attacked? She seemed pretty upset. What did you say to her?’
‘I told her she was deluding herself if she thought it was possible to prove that a dead man had raped her mother twenty-four years ago.’
‘I hope you broke it to her gently,’ she said looking out of the window to watch the crying woman run from the building.
He glared back and reached out for the box of paracetamol. He opened the packet and threw three tablets into his mouth, followed by a swig of coffee.
‘How do you feel now?’
‘Like shit warmed up.’
‘Well this isn’t going to make you feel any better…’
‘What isn’t?’
‘James Benold just pulled up outside the front door.’
‘Oh shit!’
Benold joined them in the office three minutes later, with a smug grin on his face.
‘Good morning, Mr Benold,’ Carmichael said, trying to disguise his concern.
‘Johnson Carmichael, right? We met the other day…oh and Melissa, fancy meeting you here,’ he added, turning to look at her. ‘It’s a cosy set-up you have here. Do you often seduce men into bed for your boss?’
‘You were the one doing the seducing,’ she said adamantly.
‘You’re probably right,’ he admitted, considering the statement, ‘but I don’t remember you putting up much of a fight. Feels a little like entrapment, if you ask me.’
‘How is that?’ Carmichael asked, keen to keep Benold’s attention from Melissa.
‘Well, I spoke to my wife yesterday and she asked for a divorce, so I spoke to my solicitor. I told him that the man who is sleeping with my wife took some photographs of me in a compromising position and now she is trying to divorce me and claim half of my fortune. Can you imagine what my solicitor said?’
The penny dropped for Carmichael.
‘What? No witty reply? He told me that if I had photographic evidence of my wife’s affair then we would be on equal ground in any divorce proceedings. She won’t get a penny from me!’
There was nothing he wanted to do more than wipe the smarmy expression from Benold’s face. Benold threw some photographs on the desk in front of Carmichael showing the dishevelled investigator stumbling from the property.
‘Williams works for you?’
‘He does indeed…I use him from time to time to dig up dirt on my competition to help me secure contracts. I never thought he would manage to get anything on you…but then you gifted it on a plate last night when you decided to fuck my wife! Was she good?’
He ignored the question.
‘I thought you should know that I spoke with her this morning and, in light of developments, she has had a change of heart and decided to give our marriage another chance.’
Carmichael thumped his fist down on the desk, ‘Where do people like you get off? Hmm? Waltzing around without a care in the world, yet wreaking havoc wherever you go. You make me sick!’
Benold smiled thinly again, ‘That’s rich from a man who couldn’t wait to jump into bed with my wife last night. You and I are alike, Mr Carmichael. There is something dark in you that lurks just below the surface. It’s there now. I can see in your eyes that you want to lash out at me. I understand. I get certain…urges too,’ he glanced at Melissa. ‘There are places you can go to…explore that part of your psyche.’
Carmichael’s anger was reaching boiling point.
‘You’d be surprised too,’ Benold continued, ‘just how many women welcome the depravity. That girl who fled your office just now, for example: another of your conquests? I bet she’d appreciate the extra attention.’
‘Get the fuck out of my office!’ he bellowed.
‘Don’t worry, Mr Carmichael, you won’t hear from me again. You can keep the photographs as I have copies safely stored away in case I ever need them again. I bid you both good day.’
Benold walked out of the office, but then turned back at the last minute.
‘There was one more thing, Mr Carmichael. Williams was telling the truth yesterday when he said Arthur Baxter’s conviction has been overturned. He said you didn’t react too well to the news so he’s had a chat with the squad who are re-opening the case and shared his thoughts. Don’t be too surprised to receive a visit from your former colleagues in the near future…Nobody fucks with me!’
Carmichael picked up an ash tray from the corner of his desk and threw it in Benold’s direction. It narrowly missed as he ran out of the door.
26
Two hours later and Carmichael’s mood had not improved, nor had his headache. He was used to suffering the effects of too much alcohol and not enough natural hydration, but still he never learned the lesson. He had been
munching on Melissa’s chocolate digestive biscuits all morning, which had at least curbed his hunger, but the painkillers he had been washing down with tea were doing nothing for the ache in his head. Melissa had jokingly suggested he try the ‘hair of the dog’ remedy but he had embraced the suggestion and that was why he had been in the King’s Arms for the past ten minutes staring at the pint of lager he had ordered.
The pub was virtually empty but that was hardly a surprise given the time of day. There were a couple of older men at a small table, deep in conversation, and something about them suggested that they were regulars. The fact that they would engage the bartender in their discussions periodically affirmed this thought. It was quiet and that was what he needed. It felt like he had a hundred thoughts whizzing through his mind, all vying for his attention. Benold’s statement earlier frustrated him immensely.
How could Frankie take him back? Surely she knew the kind of monster he was?
The potential impact on his own business was what troubled him most. Sure, he would rather be out there solving the crimes that the police could not, but the honey-trapping business paid the bills. If it got out that he had slept with a client and had thus blown her chances of achieving the divorce she sought, business would swiftly dry up. How could he have been so stupid?
He kept trying to figure a way out of it. If he could just speak to Frankie, tell her about the whipping incident that Melissa had been exposed to, maybe she would see sense. Ultimately, did it really matter that they had slept together? After all, it was only after she had exposed her husband and demanded the divorce. It wasn’t like they had been having a fling for months on end; not like him.
He was still weighing up whether to phone her when a man in his fifties approached his table and held a hand out. Carmichael immediately noticed the hand had the word ‘HATE’ tattooed between the knuckles. He eyed the man suspiciously, not quite sure who he was or what he wanted. Eventually he took the hand and shook it.
‘Can I help you?’ he asked.
The man took a seat across from him and introduced himself.
‘The name’s Stan. Stan Pensa. You’re Carmichael, right? Some private investigator or something?’
Trespass (P.I. Johnson Carmichael Series - Book 2) Page 15
