Perfect Intentions: Sometimes justice is above the law

by Leona Turner

  “No, honey, it doesn’t sound weird. Is that what’s upsetting you? You feel guilty because of that? Just because you wasted enough tears on him when he was alive doesn’t mean he deserves your tears now.”

  Hannah was wiping her tears away and nodding.

  “Look, Hannah, I’ve got to go to an appointment, but feel free to stay here; there’s some wine in the fridge, and when I get back we can get wrecked and have a proper chat if you feel you need it.”

  Hannah was picking up her bags again.

  “No, doll, I’ll be OK anyway; I’ve got frozen stuff in here. I might bell you later, if that’s all right?”

  “Yeah, course.”

  Clare opened the door for Hannah once more and watched her leave. Closing the door behind her, Clare turned and slumped against her front door briefly before heading back in the direction of the kitchen.

  She had twenty minutes to kill before she had to leave for Loretta’s office—just long enough for some tea and toast.

  She really appreciated the encouragement Loretta had been giving her since she’d started her course. Clare smiled to herself as she thought of all the people who would have cut off their right arm to have someone of Loretta’s calibre mentoring them. Although, if she were being honest with herself, she wasn’t spending as much time on her studies as she should. Unfortunately, with work, Hannah, and Dean all making demands on her time, the studying was coming along slower than she’d hoped.

  Finishing her tea, she grabbed her bag and headed back out the door again.

  As Clare pulled into the car park outside Loretta’s office, she checked her watch: it was a quarter past one. Loretta was going to be pissed; she was fifteen minutes late. As she grabbed her bag from the passenger seat, she pulled her keys from the ignition and practically ran to the door, taking the steps two at a time as she went. Ignoring the peevish looking secretary, she strolled straight through and gingerly knocked on the door of Loretta’s office. Upon hearing the command to enter, she walked in and sat down opposite Loretta.

  “Sorry I’m late.”

  “It’s fine. I had some paperwork that I had to catch up on, anyway.” Putting the paperwork away Loretta looked up at Clare.

  “Clare, is there something bothering you?”

  “Actually yes, yes there is. I’m assuming you’ve heard they’ve found another body?”

  “I don’t think there’s anyone that hasn’t heard.”

  “Hannah knew him, she went out with him for a bit. He was awful to her, but now she knows he’s dead, she’s really upset about it.”

  “That’s understandable, she did have an emotional connection to him. And you’re good friends with Hannah, I’m surprised it hasn’t affected you.”

  "Oh, I have no sympathy for him, he had it coming, but Hannah, well, I guess I didn’t think it’d affect her so much.” Clare had started biting her fingernails.

  “Clare, what do you know about Matt?”

  “I know he set about trying to control Hannah’s life, and when that failed, he moved on to his next victim.”

  “Victim? Clare, you didn’t tell me about anyone else.”

  “No. I didn’t want you to become too involved; you’ve helped me enough as it is. And as for Matt’s next victim, he left her with a permanent reminder of him: he convinced her to try suicide with a rusty blade. She spent weeks in hospital recovering from that and blood poisoning.”

  Loretta’s eyes darkened.

  “Don’t worry, though, he got help—anger management classes. Can you believe that? He systematically sets about destroying people and he’s the one who gets help. People like him are incapable of change.”

  “Everybody’s capable of change, Clare, remember that. Matt’s paid for whatever sins he may have committed in this life, so I think now it’s probably best left alone.”

  Clare was staring at the floor.

  “Clare, do you hear me? Walk away.”

  “What, before someone gets hurt? I think it’s too late for that.”

  Chapter 8

  “Hi, gorgeous.”

  Dean thrust a bunch of flowers into Clare’s hands and kissed her on the cheek.

  Clare forced a smile.

  “I’ve made lasagne—is that ok with you?”

  Since she had made the decision to split up with Dean, she had been feeling more and more tense, and, if she was honest, she was irritated by his presence. She knew she was being irrational, but a small part of her wanted him to pick up on her decision without it being spoken so she wouldn’t have to explain her reasons. Or see rejection on his face.

  “Lovely, it smells fantastic.” He wandered past Clare and toward the kitchen. Clare followed him through and started rustling around in the cupboard, trying to locate a vase.

  “It’s been so long since I’ve had flowers I may have to wash the cobwebs out first.”

  The small talk was forced, and she glanced over at Dean, trying to detect whether he had picked up on it. He seemed completely oblivious, and she bit back her irritation at him for not being mature enough to pick up on undertones. His youth, which had initially attracted her, was becoming more and more tedious.

  Pulling the vase out, she started to wash it.

  “What time’s the food going to be ready?”

  “Oh, another fifteen minutes or so. You want a drink?”

  “Yeah, what’ve you got?”

  “There’s some wine in the fridge, or there’s beer, ribena, milk?”

  She said the last two quietly, but Dean had heard. He watched her quizzically for a moment before dismissing it.

  “I think I’ll just stick with beer, if it’s all the same to you.”

  “Well, you know where the fridge is.”

  Clare started arranging the flowers and Dean grabbed a can from the fridge. Clare took the vase through to the living room and placed it in the middle of the table. Returning to the kitchen, she found Dean looking pensive. Relieved he might be thinking of splitting up with her, she sat down opposite him.

  “What’s wrong? You look stressed.”

  “I’m fine. Clare, I’ve got something to ask you.”

  “Ok.”

  “Do you think—and don’t jump down my throat—we could possibly try living together?” Clare felt like she’d been struck in the face. Whatever she’d been expecting, it hadn’t been that.

  “Living together? Dean, we’ve only been seeing each other for a couple of weeks.”

  “I know, but you have to admit we are good together.”

  “Two weeks.”

  “Ok, ok, but the thing is, I think I’m falling for you.”

  “What? You think you’re falling in love with me? I’m ten years older than you, you’re not even out of your teens yet—do you even know what love is?”

  “Wow, that’s a new one. So let me see if I’ve got this straight: I’m old enough to sleep with you, but not old enough to fall in love. That’s a great double standard you’ve got going there. Anything else I should know about what I can and can’t feel?”

  Clare was watching Dean closely; he was obviously hurting, and somewhere she deep down she knew she should feel sorry for him, but she couldn’t. They’d been together two weeks, and now he wanted them to live together.

  “Live together?”

  Clare started laughing, a light, bitter laugh.

  “And where do you suggest we live? Here, I suppose? You would move into my flat and bleed me dry? Well no thank you, I’ve played the role of babysitter long enough.”

  As she finished, she looked to meet his eyes. His eyes were full for a moment, then he blinked and his gaze hardened. Without saying a word, he grabbed his jacket, walked out, and slammed the door.

  She let out a sigh of relief and sat down at the table, reaching for her phone.

  “Hannah? It’s me; I think Dean and I are over.”

  Hannah’s voice was sympathetic on the line.

  “Oh, hon, I’m sorry, is there anything I can do?” />
  “Well, you could come and eat some lasagne with me.”

  In a little under fifteen minutes Clare opened the door to a dishevelled Hannah.

  “Jesus hon, you could have dried your hair before leaving the house.”

  “When your best friend rings you to tell you her relationships over, it’s your duty to be there for her straight away.”

  As Hannah said this she stopped at the mirror in Clare’s hall.

  “Oh my God, I look ridiculous.”

  Clare burst out laughing.

  “Come on, let’s have something to eat and then we can do something about the toilet brush masquerading as your hair.”

  Clare had already set the table and the two sat down to eat.

  As the two women finished eating Clare cleared the plates and Hannah started to wash up. Clare topped up both of their wine glasses and took Hannah’s over to her. Hannah smiled her thanks.

  “So what’s the plan then? Are you going to leave it a few days and then ring him?”

  "There’s no point, really, we both want different things.”

  “But you said you liked him.”

  “I do like him, he’s a sweet lad, but there’s a big difference between liking someone and being in love with them. If we continued to keep seeing each other, it wouldn’t have been fair to him. I’m not up to scarring someone emotionally, not even with my track record.”

  “So what now, then?”

  “Well, now I guess I’ll have more time to study.”

  “Ah yes, The Study. How’s it going?”

  “Ok, thanks. It’s odd having to discipline myself again.”

  “I bet. I’m bad enough at taking the bins out on the right day.”

  “So how are things going with Mike, anyway? It’s been three weeks, Hannah—that’s got to be a record for you. He proposed yet?” Clare had deliberately designed the question to get Hannah off the subject of her study, and as Hannah snorted into her glass of wine, Clare knew it had worked.

  “Oh, give me a break. No one’s tying me down. Actually, we’re not even seeing each other anymore.”

  “You’re kidding. You split up?”

  “Yes, last night, actually.”

  “Why?”

  “Got bored.”

  “Bored? You’re right, Hannah, you certainly aren’t the settling down type.”

  “Look who’s talking; poor Dean, the little lad’s heartbroken.”

  “Could you stop, please, I feel bad enough as it is.”

  “For crying out loud, he’ll be over it by the end of the summer holidays.”

  “Enough already.”

  “Do you want to go out tonight? I’ve heard the Rose and Crown’s had a makeover.”

  “Can’t, you know I’ve been barred.”

  “Oh, haven’t you heard? It’s under new management.”

  “In that case then, yes, why not.”

  “Right, go and get changed.”

  Clare made a move toward the bedroom, Hannah turned to look at her.

  “And no jeans please.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Clare and Hannah turned up at the Rose and Crown at ten past eight. The whole bar was heaving.

  “Hannah?”

  “Yes?”

  “This place is packed; can’t we go somewhere quieter?”

  “Why? Look, this is just what you need, hon, a bit of noise, a complete change from what you’re used to.”

  “Ok, then, but I don’t want to stay long.”

  “Message heard and understood. I’ll go and get the drinks, and you try and grab us a table. Do you want your usual?”

  “Please.”

  Hannah turned away and began wading toward the bar. Clare spotted a small table in the corner and started fighting her way across the room.

  Ten minutes later, Hannah appeared with two wine glasses.

  “Found a spot, then. Well done.”

  “Thanks.” Clare gratefully relieved Hannah of one of the glasses.

  Suddenly Clare felt eyes on her. Looking up, her eyes were met by a man standing at the bar. He looked to be in his mid thirties, tanned and very self-assured. Around him were a few other men that Clare assumed must be his friends and they were dressed almost identically. One of them had has his head turned away from Clare and was quite obviously whispering into his friend’s ear.

  She didn’t know who they were, but they were making her feel uncomfortable. Looking back at Hannah, who appeared not to have noticed, Clare gestured toward her.

  “Do you know those guys at the bar?”

  Hannah turned to look.

  “No. I don’t know them but I’ve seen them around town a few times. The one staring at you has got a bit of a reputation, fancies himself as a playboy. His name’s Adam. They seem harmless enough, never really spoken to them.”

  Before Hannah could say anything else, Adam was heading for their table.

  “Hi, could I buy you two a drink?”

  The question had been aimed at Clare, but before she had a chance to respond, Hannah accepted. Adam headed back to the bar to order two more glasses of wine.

  "What the hell do you think you’re doing? I’ve just split up with Dean, and here you are setting me up again?”

  “I’m not setting you up with anyone—it’s just a drink, Clare; nothing more, nothing less. Relax a little, would you?”

  “How can I relax? You’ve just accepted drinks from a complete stranger. Those guys will want something in return—blokes like that always do.”

  “You don’t have to marry them, you know, it’s just a bit of fun.”

  “And I suppose now we’ll have to talk to them?”

  “Yes, I imagine we will, is that so bad?”

  “Yes. I thought we were just coming out for a drink, you know, two girls having a chat, and then you bring in a gang of morons. Thanks, Hannah, thanks a lot.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, have you no idea how social etiquette works? You don’t have to have a huge in-depth discussion every time you converse with someone, you know. Occasionally it’s nice just to talk about insignificant things, like what happened in EastEnders last night and what you’re doing at the weekend. You know, just normal chat.”

  “I don’t watch EastEnders and I’ll be working at the weekend—there, topics covered. Can we go now? Preferably before Hugh Hefner and his cronies come back.”

  As Clare finished, she looked up and realised she was already too late; Adam was on his way back to the table. Luckily, it seemed two of his mates had gone. Clare wasn’t sure if that was by accident or design, but she wasn’t happy. Now there was a potential coupling off.

  Clare stared daggers at Hannah, who returned it with a smile. Turning the smile onto Adam, she motioned towards the empty seat. Adam smiled his thanks and placed the two wine glasses on the table. Clare uttered her thanks through clenched teeth and a false smile.

  Three drinks later, Clare was considerably happier and considerably drunk. She had hated Hannah at first for the forced socialising, but now she was grateful. For the last forty-five minutes, she’d been talking with Adam, and quite contrary to what she’d first thought, he was remarkably easy to talk to. He had done a lot of charity work thanks to the fact he only had to work part time; his parents owned a successful business that he had been promised when they retired. His kind of wealth would usually irritate Clare, but he was remarkably humble. He knew how much he owed to his parents. It was amazing how much else they had in common. They liked the same films, had a similar taste in music, and Adam had even been thinking about doing some home study. Clare smiled across at Hannah, who seemed to be having just as much fun with Tom. Tom was clearly as close to Adam as she was to Hannah. Adam and Tom, as if of one mind, got up and moved toward the bar. Hannah looked over at Clare.

  “Forgiven me yet?”

  “Just about. They’re really nice guys; I wasn’t expecting that.”

  “Well, there you go, just goes to show it doesn’t do to judge
a book by its cover.”

  On the other side of the bar Adam was relaying his order to the barman handing over the money he then turned back to Tom.

  "How’s it going with your one?”

  “Putty in my hands, mate, and you?”

  “Bit prickly at first, but I just turned up the charm.”

  “Charm—you? Bloody hell, now I’ve heard everything.”

  “Laugh it up, but I’m getting laid tonight.”

  “Well, I shouldn’t have any trouble, either; she’s all over me.”

  “Yeah, but yours was hardly a challenge. Yours drops her knickers in a heartbeat, but mine—”

  “All right, all right, next time I get first pick, though.”

  Adam pushed his chest out, grabbed the drinks, and started to make his way back to the table.

  Clare and Hannah were deep in discussion when Adam returned.

  “Not interrupting anything, are we?”

  “Don’t be daft. Sit down.”

  “Tom and I were saying at the bar that it seems mad to stay here; we can barely hear each other speak, so why don’t we all go back round to mine? I’ve got some drinks in.”

  Clare looked over at Hannah.

  “Well, what do you think?”

  “I’m game if you are.”

  “Well, in that case we’ll finish these drinks and make a move.”

  “Great.”

  The two girls went back to chatting, not noticing the exchange of glances between Adam and Tom.

  Chapter 9

  As DI Holt approached Loretta’s front door, he wondered if he should just turn about and go back to his car. This woman wasn’t officially police, and he was about to discuss particularly sensitive issues with her. He knew it would be, at the very least, frowned upon, but he needed her assistance. How many times had he told himself that in the last three days? Besides, it wasn’t like he was discussing the case in the local watering hole with a good percentage of the town’s loose-lipped community. Dr. Armstrong was a respected member of the community whose job was basically to keep secrets and help people who were incapable of helping themselves. And anyway, if this did get back to the station and it wasn’t well received, he’d be retired, and considering that’s what he was planning to do at the end of this case, he didn’t feel he had a lot to lose.