I was just about to leave when my mobile rang, the caller ID showing it was Teresa. That was quick I thought and with nervous anticipation, I answered. Was she going to give me what I wanted? I certainly hope so.
“You're so going to owe me big time. I want at least three dinners out of this,” she said into the phone,
My heart did skip a beat. Actually, I think it was more than one. Her words sounded positive.
“So you got the results?” I asked, ignoring the dinner comment. As far as I was concerned, if she turned up the results I wanted, I would dine her for life.
“Yep,” she nonchalantly replied.
“Come on then, come on, tell me,” I begged, sounding like a petulant child. There was me thinking I had things under control and yet, here I was, shaking like a leaf.
“The bad news first. Both glasses showed no residue of anything other than wine and saliva, with two sets of prints on both glasses, which is not unusual at all. There was nothing to be found at all Jake, other than an awful colour of lipstick! If you were date-raped, then your assailant had wiped away the evidence.”
My heart sunk, I was totally gutted. “I never said it was me that was raped,” I sighed. “Thanks, Teresa, I owe you,”
“Don’t you want to hear the good news?” she asked,
I had quite literally forgotten she had indicated there were two sets of news.
“Is there any?”
“Well, the urine and blood I took from you clearly indicated a Rohypnol type substance. You’re in luck Jake. Usually, when this drug is taken, by the time the victim realises they may have been drugged, it’s often already gone from their system.”
My heart went back to where it should be. “So, by that you could tell exactly when it was taken?” I excitedly asked.
“Not directly, no, but the amount in your system would indicate it would have to be less than twenty-four hours from when the sample was taken. Anything from forty-eight to seventy-two hours and it’s disappeared completely.”
My mind was racing, and I realised the hand I was holding the phone with was literally shaking, but my thought processes were broken by Teresa.
“You still there?” Teresa asked.
“Yeah, sorry Teresa. So, okay, hypothetically, if I had video evidence of somebody entering and leaving my flat at around the same time the drug was in my system, could that be used as evidence?”
“I’m not a bloody copper Jake, but you can use anything as evidence. Whether it would stand up or not, I kinda wonder, but it would certainly create doubt.”
Doubt, what a wonderful bloody word. That’s all I needed, was doubt.
“You’re a star, you’ll certainly be getting dinner from me,” I told Teresa, feeling the excitement in my own voice,
“What’s this all about Jake?”
“Maybe I’ll tell you over dinner.”
“Will that be the first, the second, or the third?”
We said our goodbyes. I was so glad I lived in a flat with CCTV covering the entrance. Oh, the joys of technology. It was time for work and I was really looking forward to this. I just needed the copy of the recording from the caretaker and then I had what I needed. I hadn’t worked out what I was going to do with it at that time, but I certainly wasn’t going to tell Molly I had evidence of her being a rapist, as well as a murderer.
What a wonderful woman!
***
I had taken two large lattes, from the vending machine, into Simon’s office. I knew he loved his coffee. I handed him his coffee and he handed me the latest masterpiece written by a murderer and rapist. If only he knew! By the time I got around to drinking mine it was freezing cold, as I was totally mesmerised by the article he had given me to read. It was certainly a quality piece of work and as much as I hate to say it, it was outstanding. It really indicated to me where Molly could be if she put her mind to it. I’d always guessed one day she would be my boss, only I knew that would never happen now, I would walk away first. Feelings and emotions came rushing back, for the woman I’d once loved.
Did I say once? What is that fine line between love and hate, brilliance and madness? Could I really destroy the woman I still loved? I had no idea at that time but I knew she couldn’t continue acting the way she was. There were probably only two people who could stop her and one was dead, so I guess that now left it up to me.
I laid the article down and looked up, to see Simon just staring at me. Gulping down the remainder of my coffee, I put the article down in disgust. Simon buzzed the intercom on his desk.
“Janet, bring another coffee for Jake and me please.”
Now Simon was good at what he did. He was one of the people I looked up to and aspired to be like. What I particularly liked about him was he was never scared to ask for a second opinion. On this occasion, it was me the work would have normally gone to, so he wanted my input. He always had the final say, if it was needed and to be fair if a story backfired on the paper, it was him that would take the hit. But, he was the kind of man you would not cross, because if you did, you wouldn’t do it a second time.
“Well?” he said in expectation,
I was focussed again, thoughts of Molly banished from my head. This was business, the reputation of our paper.
“It’s a superb piece of work and a real credit to its author,” I answered him.
Janet came in with two coffees and by that time I was gagging for caffeine. I took a few sips and realised I needed a cigarette, cursing the damn smoke-free laws.
“That’s exactly what I thought,” he said triumphantly, but looking at my face, he must have seen the look of concern on it. “Why do I sense there is a... but?” he said. He rubbed his chin with his thumb and forefinger, something he always did when he knew he was about to hear something he wasn’t going to like.
“We can’t publish this,” I told him and now his face looked shocked. I continued, “By God man, her husband’s just died, his ashes are still warm. There’s an open verdict left on his death and for all we know Molly and I could be suspects. We were there when he fell! Every time my doorbell rings, I think it’s the police, come to interrogate me. Rival papers would revel in this and God forbid if it got into the wrong hands first. I’m not saying never, really, but just not now. It would destroy her and it could damage us seriously. I’m amazed Molly has even considered this. It certainly makes me question her judgement, it’s hardly the work of a grieving widow. I think we need to watch this woman very closely, Simon.”
I paused and took a sip of the fresh coffee that had just been placed in front of me, before continuing. “You know Simon I wouldn’t put it past Molly to have written this even before Daniel had died!” I was speculating now, shocked by the open vehemence of my own words. Reading the article, it just seemed too good, too planned to have been thrown together in just a few days. Perhaps I was wrong, but something told me differently.
Simon sat back in his chair, steepling his fingers under his chin. “Written before he actually died Jake... hmm... that would put quite a different spin on things wouldn’t it?” I could tell that he wasn’t ready to let such an explosive piece go that easy, though. “It’s absurd!” he shouted in frustration.
“What’s absurd about it?” I queried, trying to throw conjecture into the argument. I had nothing to base my statement on, but I knew Molly and if she was anything, she was calculating. This was right up her alley. He flapped his hands around in the air, another one of his usual traits.
“No, it just doesn’t make sense, but it’s also absurd to think that you two could be suspects.” He paused before giving out a long sigh, as we sipped our coffee. “But, of course, Jake you are right. We can’t publish this, regardless. I’ll tell her straight away.”
I stood up to leave. “I’ve got stacks to catch up on,” I emphasised.
“It’s good to have you back Jake.”
“Break it to her gently,” I asked him. I had to quickly leave, as I didn’t want him to see the concern
on my face.
Thirty minutes later I saw Molly walk into his office and within five minutes she came storming back out, but stopped by my office window and gave me a look of thunder through the glass. I just gave her my sincerest, warmest, smile back. I wished she actually realised I’d just saved her hide once more. Maybe one day I would be able to sit her down and explain. Oh, yeah, it was good to be back.
My office phone rang shortly after. The display indicated it was Simon.
“I have assigned her to another sub-editor Jake, I think that’s the sensible thing to do at the moment,” he informed me.
“That’s fine, I understand Simon.” I put the phone down gently. God help them!
Throughout that day, nearly everyone in the office popped in to say it was good to have me back. There were a lot of pieces that needed my special touch and I got stuck into them. I was feeling right pleased people had missed me. I felt empowered for some reason. I had never really had that feeling before. It felt like Daniel had transferred all his positive energy into me.
In a way, it almost felt like I was turning into Daniel.
***
I could see Lucy as she approached Alonso’s and I was glad to see she was unaccompanied this time. For an awful moment I thought she was going to bring that girl with her or worse still, that friend of hers. I had the impression she wasn’t too keen on me.
To say Lucy looked rough was a bit of an understatement. It only seemed days ago I was complimenting her on how well she looked, but now she looked as if she had just gotten out of the sack. My heart went out to her a little and for a moment, I found myself wondering why all the women I meet seem to end up ‘fucked up’ in some way. I guess I can’t be held responsible for what happened to Lucy, but, she was the mother of my daughter and I could have helped her more.
She sat down in front of me, immediately picking up the cream cake I had already purchased and taking a large bite out of it. “What’s all this about,” she mumbled with her mouth half-full.
“Where’s our daughter, Maryann?” I asked her. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and I watched her every move. I didn’t take my eyes off her as she shuffled uncomfortably in her seat, ignoring the rest of the cream cake.
“She’s at home, of course. You hadn’t arranged to see her,” she replied arrogantly.
“I don’t mean her , that imposter, whatever her name is. I mean our daughter.” It was a calculated gamble, but I’d felt that girl wasn’t really my daughter since yesterday, and Daniel’s message had just clarified my thoughts. I locked my fingers under my chin and studied the look on her face. It was the look of someone having being caught out. She met my eyes and for once I believed Lucy finally told the truth.
“I haven’t seen her since she was taken from me.” Her eyes looked down and I could see a real sadness in her expression. “You could have done more you know. She was your daughter, surely you could have helped us. This is your fault, Jake, just as much as mine.”
I pondered on that for a moment, and perhaps she was right, but I wasn’t the drug-taking, prostitute. I was just the HIV-positive bisexual, who frequented men’s toilets. So... who was I to judge?
“What’s this all about Lucy?” Her face took on an angry cast, a look I had seen so often.
“That bloody woman, she ruined me, Jake. She ruined us. I wanted to get at her through you and I wanted to make the bitch pay.” She bit down on her lip, “You gotta make her fucking pay Jake.”
“She’s just lost her husband, isn’t that enough?” I asked her, but her look told me it wasn’t. “Leave Molly to me,” I added. I took out an envelope from my inside pocket and handed it to her. “There’s a couple of hundred quid in there, treat yourself and that girl you're looking after.”
“What’s this Jake, guilt money?” she asked as she stuffed it into her pocket. I chose not to answer.
“The brunette with you at McDonalds and in the park, who is she?” I asked her. Immediately a grin came to her face.
“Well... you’d better ask her that hadn’t you?” She laughed quite loudly and fiddled with her phone. “I just sent you her number,” she added mockingly.
I finished my coffee and told Lucy to call me if she ever needed anything. In some way, I knew I was responsible for her. The news about my daughter came as no surprise and I was at a bit of a loss about where to go from there regarding Maryann. The brunette? Well... she had just become a lot more interesting.
I took out my mobile to save the number, as Lucy left. I checked my emails and noticed an email addressed to ‘All Staff’, from Molly. My heart sank to the pits of my stomach, as I read it.
I had to see her. I knew I needed to speak to her face to face.
***
Chapter 21 – Daniel
I had a hell of a lot to think about actually. Things were moving just so damn fast. You know, I was now ninety-nine percent certain that Molly was instrumental in my death. Shit! That bloody story as good as proved it, didn’t it? She wrote the damn thing two whole months before the “accident”. Okay... okay... so maybe it wasn’t a conscious plan. She couldn’t have known I was going to slip that night and plummet to my death, but I still remember the look on her face, just before she let go of my hand. Was it triumph? satisfaction? relief? I’m not sure what the emotion was, but it was messing with my head.
And then there was this whole thing with Becky Johnson... Oh my God, that had been a total fuck-up from day one. Becky was a student of mine, just like Molly had been. It was never meant to be anything more than just a quick fling, I had hoped to make up for the lack of sex at home, but you know how these things go sometimes... the best laid plans of mice and men ... and all that sort of thing. Sometimes I feel as though I’m easily led down paths which end up being destructive to me and my relationships.
I’m not in love with Becky. Shit, I never was. They say there is only one soulmate in this world for you, one person who is in perfect synchronicity with you; the Ying to your Yang. Well, I found that person a long time ago. Of course, the only problem was he was a he and that threw up its own set of conundrums and difficulties, especially because I was married. So then there was Becky. I knew now that Molly had been reading my texts to Becky and she must have been convinced in her mind that it was true love.
Bullshit! It was nothing of the sort. It was just what us men say to get what we want. Let’s be honest, when we want regular pussy, we’ll say and do just about anything to make that happen. When the time came, it was a bit more complicated than just ditching Becky, she had started to become too clingy. And then there was a whole other issue, a living, breathing, innocent and defenceless child, little Damien. Look, I would have discarded Becky the moment she’d gotten all lovey-dovey with me, but it was suddenly too late and she was pregnant.
After the whole “miscarriage” episode with Molly, I had been desperate to try again for children. Molly though, is very much a law unto herself and getting the opportunity to even have sex with my wife was hard enough, without adding the possibility of getting her pregnant. She was totally focused on her job and on becoming the star columnist at The Times, one day. I knew the prospect of babies would have been seen by Molly as just a nuisance or an annoyance. So, when Becky told me she was pregnant, I was actually over the moon. Finally, I was going to be a Dad, something I had always dreamed of. I had visions of taking the young rascal to watch Manchester City play and then spending hours playing footy with my little man in our backyard. I couldn’t have been happier, but of course, I was still married to Molly, so there was that pesky little problem to iron out first.
Molly would be dead right if she thought I was going to leave her, although it wouldn’t have been for the reasons she thought. I was in love with the idea of being a father, not with being Becky’s husband, but Becky had made it quite clear. No divorce, no relationship with young Damien. That idea was an absolute deal-breaker for me. I would have done anything to have the opportunity to be a full-time
father to that young man. Shit, I might have even been the one to drop Molly from the roof, if the opportunity had arisen differently.
I had seen Becky in the back of the Church, at my funeral. At least, she had deigned to come, although to be fair, it must have been pretty hard for her, given nobody else knew about our relationship. I’d been disappointed she hadn’t brought Damien along, as I’d hoped to see him again. After all, it was his Dad’s funeral and he should have been there to bid farewell to me. I also felt a little for Becky now. It was going to be tough for her trying to bring up a youngster on her own, as a single mother. Mostly, I felt sad for young Damien, though. He would never have the opportunity to get to know his own father. I’d seen, often enough, what could happen to fatherless boys, especially once they entered adolescence. I only hoped, for Damien’s sake that Becky managed to let go of all this, move on with her life and find someone new. Someone who could be a real dad to my little man.
Tortured Minds Page 13
