by Simon Lelic
And so I told her.
I told her and almost killed Elsie too.
Jack
Karen, she said her name was. Detective Inspector Karen Leigh. She was here today. This morning. It’s Wednesday, and normally on a Wednesday I’d be at work. On any weekday, actually, but that’s not the point. The point is Detective Inspector Karen Leigh called by ‘just on the off chance’ she’d find me in, when under normal circumstances there was no way she would have. Which means she knew exactly where to find me. Which means she would have had to ask around. Which means …
Shit.
I don’t know what it means.
Maybe it means I’m just being paranoid. But there’s that line, isn’t there, that thing people say, about how just because you’re paranoid it doesn’t mean no one’s out to get you. Something like that. The first part, the just because you’re paranoid, it’s been running round and round my head today like a song that’s snagged. It’s tuneless, though, more like a taunt. And for some reason – a reason, actually, I can guess – the voice taunting me belongs to a little girl.
Just because you’re paranoid …
But the police.
They asked about everything. Literally: everything. It’s as though they’ve been thinking along the same lines Syd has, except somehow they’ve reached a different conclusion. Or the same conclusion, actually, if you think about it. Which is nuts. It’s just … I mean … it’s totally nuts.
But I don’t think I helped myself. I opened the door and right away I was on the back foot. This probably sounds stupid, but part of the problem I think was that I wasn’t doing what I was supposed to be doing when they knocked. I was supposed to be finishing up some paperwork, but instead what I was doing was watching Murder, She Wrote. Just, you know, to take my mind off things (probably not the best choice, I realize), and only for the past five or ten minutes, but even so it felt like I’d been collared in the act.
‘Mr Walsh? Jack Walsh? I’m Karen. Detective Inspector Karen Leigh, but Karen’s fine. This here is my colleague, DC Granger. Don’t mind him. He looks like a thug, but really he’s a pussy cat. Normally I don’t bring him along when I’m interviewing witnesses, mostly I save him for the suspects, but the problem at the moment is we’re struggling to find any.’ A smile then, half a breath’s worth, before: ‘May we come in?’
It was like being assailed by a Jehovah’s Witness. I mean, I’d barely opened the door and already I felt like I’d been beaten into submission. So what could I do? I couldn’t say no. Who says no to the police when they haven’t done anything wrong? Or maybe that’s the only time anyone says no. Maybe by letting them inside without even double-checking why they were here (like I really had to ask) all I was doing was confirming their suspicions. Assuming they even had any suspicions at that point, and that it wasn’t only after I’d spoken to them that –
Jesus, Jack. Get a grip.
What was it Syd said? Think yoga. Which doesn’t actually help me at all, because when I think yoga the only thing that comes to mind is middle-aged women in leotards.
Sorry. Sorry. Now I’m rambling. I tend to do that when I’m nervous. Which is part of the reason I came off so badly after talking to the police.
So I asked them in.
I didn’t ask them in. I let them in.
And then, when I’d let them in, I offered them tea. Just, I don’t know. Just because that’s what my mother would have done. And the guy – the detective constable or whatever – he declined, but call-me-Karen, she asked for milk – just a splash – and two-and-a-half level teaspoons of sugar. Three, she told me, would make her jumpy and two just didn’t taste right. So again, just making the tea, I felt under pressure. I didn’t make a cup for myself, because frankly I was worried about spilling it. But the problem then was I didn’t know what to do with my hands. Plus, when I was back in the lounge, I sat down. Which was another mistake, because the police, they didn’t. The woman – Karen; she said to call her Karen so I will – Karen stood by the fireplace holding her tea, and the man, DC Granger – who even if I was related to him I’d probably still call DC Granger – he kept his hands in his pockets and sort of wandered nonchalantly around the room.
‘Nice place,’ he said.
I couldn’t tell from his tone whether he was mocking me. Us, rather: me and Syd. Because, sure, it’s a nice room, but right now it’s also basically an empty cube. There’s the sofa, a couple of chairs, the television, but all the pictures on the walls, all the books, the birds, the stuff Winters left behind – obviously that’s all long gone, right down to the last LP.
‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘It will be. We just need to … you know. Paint. Redecorate. What have you.’
What have you. Who these days says what have you who isn’t eighty? I was: I was turning into my mother. People in authority always made her nervous too, even though the worst offence she’d ever committed was putting the bin out early before we went away on holiday.
I wanted to sip my tea, but I didn’t have any. Karen …
I can’t call her Karen.
Inspector Leigh, she was watching me with this curious little smile, as though she was enjoying me acting like an idiot. She was about half the height of her colleague, and half the width, but – and maybe this is just the authority-figure thing in me again – somehow she seemed to dominate the room. She was in her early forties, I guess, with hair so red it was almost orange, and this intense, inquisitive look in her eyes. That smile I’d noticed lingered, so that by the end of our interview I’d come to wonder if it wasn’t actually her default expression – or at least her default expression when regarding me.
‘The tea’s perfect,’ she announced, toasting me. ‘Thank you. I wouldn’t have asked for one if I’d realized you weren’t having one yourself.’
‘It’s fine, honestly,’ I answered. ‘No trouble.’ I reclined, felt like Hugh Hefner, sat forward. I’d never realized until that point that the cushions on our sofa sank so low.
‘Mind if I take a look around?’ said DC Granger, a voice from a different conversation. He hitched a massive thumb towards the door and was already starting for the hallway before I could answer.
‘Er … sure.’
Inspector Leigh watched me as I watched him go. Once her colleague was out of the room she carefully set her cup down on the mantelpiece. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘I suppose I should explain why we’re here. You’ve already spoken to some of my colleagues, I believe. And you’re familiar with everything that’s happened.’
It wasn’t a question, but I nodded anyway.
‘Well, Jack – can I call you Jack? Well, Jack … DC Granger and I, we’re just following up. Just putting some flesh on the bones, as it were. Would it be OK if I asked you a few more questions?’
‘Sure,’ I answered. ‘Of course.’ And then I laughed and said: ‘Do I need a lawyer?’
It was a joke! Just a bloody joke! But for an instant Inspector Leigh let that smirk of hers sink into a frown.
‘Do you think you need one?’
‘What? No. I mean, I was just, you know. Just kidding,’ I finished lamely.
There was half a beat before the inspector answered. ‘I see.’ She looked around, smiled again. ‘May I sit down?’
‘Please,’ I said, half getting up from my own seat. The inspector carried over one of the dining chairs and positioned herself so that our knees, once we were both sitting, were almost touching. I would have edged backwards, but there was nowhere on the sofa for me to go.
‘So,’ said Inspector Leigh, pulling out her notepad. ‘Some of these questions you will have answered before, I realize, so I apologize in advance for … Jack?’
I’d been looking beyond her to try and locate her colleague. I’d thought I’d heard him in the kitchen, but from the glimpse of the room I had from where I was sitting I couldn’t see him.
‘Don’t worry,’ said the inspector, her smile extending slightly. ‘He won’t steal anything.’
I laughed dutifully. ‘No. Of course not. Sorry.’
‘No need to be sorry.’
The phrases she chose, her body language, her sense of personal space – they were close enough to what most people would consider normal that at first I thought it was just her. You know, that it was all just a part of who she was. I mean, some people – some police officers in particular, I would imagine – they’re just a bit socially awkward. That’s not a criticism. For one thing I count myself among them. But it was an act. I realized that about a second after she’d gone. She must have read me the moment I’d opened the front door, seen exactly how best to set me on edge. Needy, eager to please, afraid of authority: probably it was all written on my face. Unless she’d also been briefed by one of her colleagues – one of the ones I’d spoken to before. If so, that meant she had been looking into me, and her finding me at home, alone, there was no on-the-off-chance about it.
Just because you’re paranoid …
We must have sat there like that for almost an hour. She was right, most of the questions I’d answered before – where I was, what I’d been doing, what I’d seen, heard, witnessed – and I stuck to the same story I’d set out the first time. I even settled into something like a rhythm and gradually, particularly with DC Granger out of the room, I was beginning to feel slightly less uncomfortable. Until Inspector Leigh abruptly changed tack.
‘Tell me about your work,’ she said, setting her notepad face down on her lap.
‘My work? What about my work?’
‘You’ve been having some trouble at work, from what I understand.’
My smile was a tic. ‘How do you …’
Maybe because I didn’t finish my question Inspector Leigh didn’t feel obliged to answer, and anyway it hardly mattered how she knew. She’d found out somehow.
‘That’s not … I mean, it’s got nothing to do with this,’ I said, and at the back of my mind I thought of Syd, saw the incredulity – the irritation – in her eyes.
‘I didn’t mean to imply that it did,’ said Inspector Leigh. ‘I’m just curious. But of course if you’d rather not talk about it …’
‘No, it’s not that. It’s just … there’s nothing much to tell, that’s all.’
‘I heard that you’ve been fired. That there’s the possibility of criminal proceedings.’
‘Criminal … no. What? Criminal proceedings? Who told you that?’
This time when she didn’t answer, she did it openly.
‘No,’ I said again, as much to myself this time. ‘I’ve just … I’m on suspension. That’s all. It’s all just a … a misunderstanding.’ Criminal proceedings. All at once I had a new taunt echoing in my head, the voice still that delighted little girl’s.
Inspector Leigh watched me for a moment, then shifted angles once again.
‘Tell me, Jack. How long have you known Elsie?’
‘Elsie? Elsie Payne?’
‘Mmm. How long have you known her?’
‘I … I don’t know her. Not really.’
‘You know what happened to her?’
‘She’s in hospital.’
‘She’s in a coma.’
‘Right. That’s what I mean. My girlfriend, Syd, she –’
‘Sydney Baker. Your partner. Co-owner of this property.’
‘Right. Sydney, she and Elsie, they –’
‘I know all about Ms Baker’s relationship with Elsie, Jack. We spoke to her outside the ICU.’
‘You did?’ Syd hadn’t mentioned that. Unless Inspector Leigh meant today, that very morning. I thought Syd had gone straight to the office, but she’s been spending so much time at the hospital lately that it was certainly possible she’d stopped off again on the way in to work. That’s where she’s been writing most of her entries: sitting in an orange plastic chair in a hospital waiting room. She’s there so often in fact that I’m beginning to wonder whether I should be worried about her. Which I realize sounds ridiculous given the circumstances because there isn’t a moment currently I don’t worry about us both.
‘I was asking you about your relationship with Elsie, Jack. How long you had known her.’
‘That’s kind of what I was saying. I don’t know her. Only through Syd.’
‘But you were upset? About what happened to her?’
‘Well … yes. Naturally.’
‘And you’re the one who raised Elsie’s case with social services. Is that right?’
‘Yes, I suppose so. I mean, we both did. Me and Syd.’
Inspector Leigh nodded as though in sympathy. ‘It’s been a difficult time for you, clearly. With how things turned out with Elsie, with Ms Baker being so upset. With your problems at work, too, and this big new house of yours …’ She swept her eyes across the living-room ceiling, which all at once had never felt higher.
I was waiting for the question. Inspector Leigh seemed to be waiting for me to answer.
‘Right,’ I agreed. ‘Difficult, I’d say, is putting it mildly.’ I tested a smile, hoping for another dose of sympathy. I couldn’t tell from the inspector’s reaction whether I’d won any.
‘I imagine you’ve been feeling quite frustrated,’ she said. ‘Angry, too, no doubt.’
I waggled my head. ‘I guess so, yeah, I mean … wait. Angry?’ All at once I saw where this was going – where it had been heading all along. ‘Not angry,’ I said, categorically. Angrily, even, you might have said. ‘I don’t get angry.’
‘You’re sure about that?’
‘Absolutely. I just … I don’t. Ask Syd. Ask anyone.’
Inspector Leigh’s smile, this time, told me she already had.
‘What about after a drink or two, Jack? Say, during a session at the local pub. Might you get angry then?’
I swallowed, but somewhere in my throat there was a blockage. The pub. She knew about what had happened at the pub. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised. If anything I should have been more prepared.
‘That was different,’ I said.
‘What was?’
‘The … thing you’re referring to.’
A frown like she really didn’t know. And yet somehow, even though she was frowning, she was still managing to maintain that little smirk.
I stood up, awkwardly to avoid a clash of knees. I moved into the middle of the room, and was about to ask for a break, when I spotted DC Granger leaning against the door frame. I hadn’t noticed him returning and I had no idea how long he’d been standing there.
‘There’s a knife missing from your knife block,’ he said, as though he’d been part of the conversation the whole way through.
‘What?’
‘In your kitchen. There’s a knife missing from your knife block.’
I looked at Inspector Leigh, immobile and impassive, and then back at Dwayne Johnson over there filling up my doorway.
‘It’s probably in the dishwasher.’
DC Granger shook his head, slowly. ‘I checked. It’s not in the dishwasher.’
‘You checked in our dishwasher?’
A shrug like a rolling boulder. ‘It happened to be open. I happened to look.’
Which was basically a DC Granger-sized lie. There’s no way the dishwasher was open. When it’s open you can’t even get to the sink. But it wasn’t the dishwasher at that point that was worrying me. It was the knife. The missing knife. I’d been aware it was gone. I’d just never before thought to wonder why.
‘I think … I think I’d like you to leave now,’ I said. I’d meant to sound bold. Affronted. The way an innocent taxpayer in situations like this is supposed to sound. Even to my ear, though, I didn’t come close.
To my surprise Inspector Leigh didn’t argue. She stood up as though she’d merely been waiting for me to ask.
‘Well,’ she said. ‘Thank you for your time, Jack. And for the delicious cup of tea.’
That smile. She’d asked me before about whether I got angry, and if ever I had a right to it would have been then.
At her demeanour, her insinuations. But as soon as I was alone once again in the hallway, all I felt was a swelling sense of dread. Because this was real, I realized. Whatever it was – whatever it is – there’s no denying any more that it’s real.
Jack
It’s getting late and Syd’s still not home. I want to call her, to tell her about today, but also I don’t want to panic her. On the other hand, if she was going to panic she probably would have done so already. She saw this coming, after all. It won’t be any consolation to her, I realize, but there’s very little that would console her just now.
I don’t know what to write. Or I do, but I’m struggling to make a start. That’s what I hate most about when I worry, the fact it stops me from doing anything else. But I don’t suppose I really have a choice. We’re barely halfway through – halfway to the point we’re at now – and time is clearly running out. If we don’t figure this out before the police come back, who knows if we’ll get another chance?
The stuff at work, then. I told the police it wasn’t connected. It’s what I said to Syd, too; what I’ve been repeating, like a mantra, to myself. But it’s not as though I can just ignore it. And apart from anything it’s beginning to dawn on me that I’ve been wrong so far more than I’ve been right.
I mentioned a missed call, if you remember. After my run-in with Elsie’s dad. The call was from a friend of mine. He …
Wait. This won’t make sense unless I go back further. Maybe I can’t tell you how this part ends yet, but I can at least be clear on how it began.
There was something else I said earlier, too. When I was talking about Bart, about how he’d been trying to help Susmita? What I said was, once in a while, in a job like ours, you wouldn’t be human if you didn’t bend the rules. Which I suppose was a prelude to a confession. This confession. Syd spoke before about the stuff I kept from her and this is one example of something I should definitely have told her about right at the start.
There was this family.
Wait, no.
