Double Deceit

by Julienne Brouwers

  Lindsey came back carrying the drinks on a tray and didn’t appear to be sulking anymore. She placed the cappuccino on a little step next to me, took her coat off and walked up to Tim with the apple juice. She let him take a few sips through the straw and then returned to sit with me on the verge of the sand pit.

  She linked her arm through mine, pulling me closer. “I’m so happy we’re back in contact again. It was hard on us seeing you in such bad shape,” she said, referring to the other night with Frederique and Karen.

  “Was it?” I responded and took a sip of my cappuccino, then stretched my legs in the sand and closed my eyes.

  Lindsey pressed on. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you didn’t appear to be thinking straight. You were imagining things that weren’t really there, with that law firm and everything. I’m so relieved you’ve finally managed to let go of this conspiracy theory thing.”

  My eyes sprang open. Since that phone call from Dan the day before yesterday, my life had been turned upside down yet again.

  Lindsey seemed to have noticed my lack of response and flashed me a look with a mixture of desperation and disapproval. “Argh, please tell me you did let go, Jennifer.” There was a sharpness in her voice. “You do realise Oliver’s death was an accident? I don’t think I can take this nonsense for much longer.”

  I turned away. “No. Well, yes, but …” I began but didn’t finish my sentence – I seemed unable to find the right words.

  Lindsey frowned. “But what?”

  “I received an unexpected phone call from Dan a few days ago,” I said, now looking Lindsey in the eye.

  “What?” she asked. “Dan was the guy from that date with the sour ending!”

  I nodded weakly, smoothing down the hem of my skirt.

  She rolled her eyes. “Okay, so he wanted to see you again?”

  I bit my nails, keeping my eyes on Tim. “Do you remember I told you about the DVDs I found on which I saw Oliver with er …?” I halted.

  Lindsey took a swig of her cappuccino. “Of course. You were devastated.”

  “Well, Dan told me he found the CDs and viewed them too. And it doesn’t stop there – similar recordings were made of all paralegals who started working at the firm over the last couple of years. Nude dancers, prostitutes, alcohol, drugs – the whole shebang.”

  Lindsey ran a hand through her long, blond satin hair. Her eyes were fixed on something in the distance. “Jen, I don’t know what to say.” She sounded deflated, as if I was a lost cause.

  Tim came scampering up to us. “I want juice,” he declared, extending his sand-covered hands impatiently to the bottle.

  I didn’t have the energy to correct him. “Let Mummy help you.” I put the straw in his mouth at a slightly tilted angle and he started sucking vigorously. “We’ll save the rest for later,” I said after a few moments, pulling the straw out of his mouth again. He licked his lips with his tongue, wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his jumper and tottered back to his sandcastle.

  I took another sip of my cappuccino, which had cooled off considerably – as had the atmosphere – and launched into my story. I told Lindsey about everything that Dan and I had concluded from the documents. How the suspects in the four cases, which initially appeared to be open-and-shut, were unexpectedly exculpated, and that both Mason & McGant and the DFI appeared to be involved in some form of bribery.

  Lindsey had a pensive look as she let it all sink in. “Hun, you need to back out of this,” she whispered. “I have a bad feeling about it.”

  “You still don’t believe me?” I asked, slightly affronted. I’d presumed these recent developments would have removed her scepticism.

  “I really don’t know who or what to believe anymore,” she responded evasively.

  I ignored her comment, but it did hurt. “You don’t actually think Dan would bring all of this up and reach out to me if he wasn’t convinced something was wrong? He’s jeopardising his job, perhaps even his entire career.” I couldn’t quite grasp how she didn’t appreciate the significance of all this new information.

  She shrugged her shoulders. “Be that as it may, you barely know the guy – why do you blindly trust him? He’s a lawyer at Mason & McGant – how do you know for sure he’s not involved in this bribery thing? It’s anyone’s guess what secrets he may be harbouring. You need to be careful Jennifer, you could be getting yourself into seriously hot water here.”

  Lindsey’s words triggered my doubts in Dan all over again – there was obviously some truth in what she said. Maybe he was trying to frame me and this was all part of a bigger plan to prevent me from going public with incriminating information regarding Mason & McGant. But if that were true, why would he have suggested to comb through those case reports with me? Memories of his soft, inviting lips on mine came flooding back, making me feel sick.

  “You really have to abandon this search, Jennifer. To be honest, I’m growing tired of this charade. You must hear how absurd this all sounds?” She stared at me with a mixture of vexation and pity and, although perhaps unbeknown to Lindsey, I felt we were reaching a crossroads – a point in our lives which would either bring us closer or forever force us apart. “An international, renowned law firm maintaining a clandestine relationship with mega crooks, and a government organisation – the DFI – wilfully cooperating. Come on, these things happen in films, not in real life.”

  The feathery clouds had lifted, bringing out the sun again and making the air feel pleasantly warm. “I know, it’s inconceivable,” I agreed. “And yet all the evidence is pointing towards this.”

  Lindsey folded her arms. “I said it before and I’ll say it again – you need to go to the police with this. It’s the only sensible thing to do.”

  Her arguments were undeniably sound and valid. In my mind I went back to the conversation I’d had with Detective Armstrong. With a great deal of pain and effort, he’d been prepared to lend an ear to my argument and had even taken the documents from me. But he’d made no bones about the fact that he’d never reopen the case.

  “I recently paid the Amsterdam Investigation Department a visit, but they didn’t believe me.”

  Lindsey flashed me a look of scepticism. “Well, Jennifer. Maybe you should have faith in their judgment – assessing whether there is foul play involved in an accident is what these people do on a day-to-day basis. They inspect all the clues, the forensic evidence and then make an informed decision,” she stated as if I was utterly clueless. “If you will, you can compare it to a situation where you as a doctor determine that a little wound I have isn’t inflamed and will heal by itself over time, while I, someone who’s never studied medicine, claim I need antibiotics,” she said with an air of smugness.

  “That’s a ridiculous comparison,” I retorted, but to my exasperation the analogy was quite striking.

  “Whatever you say, Jennifer,” she said resolutely, and finished her cappuccino with a gulp. “I am so done with this. I’ve said my piece, it’s up to you. If you intend to continue this nonsense, fine by me, but don’t expect me to stick around while you rip your whole life to pieces.” Lindsey leaped up, tying her pink coat tightly round her slim waist.

  My mouth slackened. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m heading off,” she announced, her jaw set. “I have a raft of things to do over the weekend.” But we both knew it was just an excuse.

  I jumped up, a feeling of dread welling up in the pit of my stomach. “Lin, please don’t leave like this,” I pleaded, gently laying my hand on her arm, but I felt deep down that something had changed, the little invisible thread that connected us had snapped.

  She brushed my hand away. “I love you, Jennifer – you know that,” she declared, her emerald green eyes gazing at me in an indefinable fashion. “But I’m not going to sit around and watch you putting your life at risk.” She gestured towards Tim who was blithely playing with a digger. “Why can’t you just enjoy your beautiful son, your top job, your gorgeous house – y
ou have the whole world at your feet.” Lindsey narrowed her eyes. “We’re not all as fortunate as you are, you know. And as for the things in life you can’t explain, try to take them on the chin.”

  I had to restrain myself from clinging to Lindsey in desperation, seeking her approval. “I have no choice but to do this, Lin, I simply must. Not knowing what happened to Oliver that day is eating me up inside. Can’t you understand that?”

  “Oliver had an accident,” she said, mouthing the words slowly and deliberately. “A terrible accident, Jennifer. You need to let it go.”

  I grabbed her hand and begged, “Please,” but she was relentless and pulled away.

  “Tim!” Lindsey called out and blew him a kiss. “Bye, pumpkin.”

  Tim looked up in surprise and then carried on digging unperturbed in the sand.

  Lindsey put on her sunglasses. “I’ll see you, okay?” She didn’t wait for an answer, but turned on her heel and strode out of the playground, her stilettos clicking on the cobbles. She didn’t look back.

  I tried to stifle the tears that sprung up in my eyes, resulting in a lump in my throat. Suddenly I felt Tim’s warm hand touching my arm. “Mummy, Lindsey gone?”

  “Yes, baby,” I replied, quickly wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. “But that’s okay. How about if Mummy helps you with some digging?”

  He gave a whoop of delight and started pulling me towards the sandpit by my hand.

  When we arrived back home about an hour later, my eyes immediately fell on an item on the doormat.

  Every muscle in my body went rigid as I drew in a sharp breath. I heard Tim babbling something to me as he carelessly trod over the note, but my ears were ringing and his words whooshed past me.

  The letters dancing over the paper were of such a large font that I was able to read the message without bending down and picking it up.

  ‘I SAID: Don’t stick your nose into other people’s affairs.’

  Every nerve in my body was tingling as I stormed into the living room, jerked open the chest of drawers and starting flinging out all the papers. Seconds later I found the note I’d safely stowed away since it was ‘delivered’ not long ago at the practice. I held it up in the air with trembling hands, angling it so that the light fell on the words. The colourful, decorative font was a dead ringer for the one used in today’s note.

  When I’d received the first message at home I’d dismissed it and tried to convince myself it wasn’t intended for me or that it was a stupid prank from some kid in the neighbourhood. As for the shattered window in the practice – that could have been the work of a disgruntled patient.

  But this time I knew without a trace of doubt that all these threats had been sent intentionally to me. Someone out there was watching my every move and warned me to stop digging.

  32

  The next Monday morning I was back in work, staring at my PC in the practice, trying to finalise the administration of the morning consultations. I’d had a rough time getting through the weekend. The quarrel with Lindsey and the threatening message I’d received had really gotten under my skin. On Sunday my mother had invited us for lunch – an offer I’d solicitously accepted. Even though I felt I shouldn’t be chased out of my own home, I was grateful for the safety and security that my childhood home offered. When my mother had inquired if everything was okay, I’d merely nodded. She’d filled in the blanks by saying the process of grieving for Oliver has its ups and downs and I was relieved that she’d come to her own conclusions and didn’t probe any further.

  I turned off my computer, grabbed my jacket and handbag, and glanced at the printed home visit schedule for the day.

  I strode through the hallway towards the door, my eyes running over the paper in my hand, when Simone called after me. “Wait Jennifer, what would you like to have for lunch today? We’re ordering from Little Buddha.”

  I was a huge fan of Indian food, but the last few days I’d had little appetite. “Er … Make it the tikka masala with rice, please,” I answered.

  “Great, I’ll make sure it gets here for when you return.”

  As I left the practice, I noticed the wispy clouds of the morning had turned into a heavy rain shower and was glad I’d decided to come to work by car. Holding my doctor’s bag over my head, I dashed towards my car, parked a little further down the road, opened the door and jumped in.

  I was about to read the details of the first patient, the drenched sleeves of my coat sticking to my blouse, when I heard a message coming through my phone – it was from Dan.

  ‘Bad news here. Can I call you during your lunch break?’

  I felt a tightness in my chest. My gaze strayed into the distance, thoughts going around in circles in my mind, while the rain kept hammering the windscreen.

  After putting the key in the ignition, I opened the window for some fresh air. I just typed ‘Okay’ back to Dan and entered the first address into the navigation – I had to focus on my patients right now. I started the engine, wiped the inside of the windscreen with my sleeve to remove the built up condensation and stepped on the accelerator.

  I forgot about Dan during the next hour while I was tending to the patients that were too sick to get to the practice by themselves. After my last patient had been transferred into an ambulance and taken to hospital, I realised it was nearly lunchtime and remembered Dan, who would be calling me any time now.

  I arrived back at the practice and after hanging up my coat to dry on the rack since it was still soaked from earlier, I walked into the lunch room where the food had already arrived, judging by the distinct smell. I didn’t see Hans yet – he was presumably still working on his last home consultation – and to dodge any questions or strange looks, I thanked Simone for the food, gave a swift excuse about overdue administration and slipped into my consultation room. Just as I was about to unwrap the aluminium foil from the takeaway box, my phone rang and my heart did a quick two-step.

  I answered the call. “Hi, this is Jennifer.”

  “Dan here. Listen up, I don’t have much time,” he said in a jittery voice. “The shit hit the fan. This morning when I came to work, I was summoned at once by one of the partners at Mason & McGant and got an earful.”

  Beads of sweat formed in my palms and I felt a stinking headache coming on. “Why?” I exclaimed.

  “I told you about the new Data Protection Act, right?”

  I sank into my chair. “Yes.”

  “Turns out they found out I went through those files in our internal system last Friday without authorisation.”

  “Shit,” I cried. “So what now?”

  “They’ve put me on administration leave for the time being.”

  “On leave,” I repeated flatly. I couldn’t believe it. I jumped up and marched to the window, which had been repaired over the weekend, opened the blinds slightly with one hand and peered out onto the streets, checking for anyone skulking around. “Is it general policy for them to be so strict with these things?” I queried, recalling a local hospital that had been the centre of a shocking exposé in the media a while ago after employees had been prying in the medical file of a VIP – in that instance they had come off with a warning.

  “I’ve never heard of it before, but this law was only recently implemented. Maybe they want to make an example out of me.” There was a pause. “To be honest, I think they have an inkling that I’m onto something. There was an undercurrent of tension and veiled warnings in the way the partner addressed me. He said something along the lines of, you shouldn’t stick your nose into things that aren’t any of your business.”

  The colourful letters started dancing in front of my eyes again, making me feel sick. The second hand of the clock in my consultation room was ticking loudly, the sound ringing in my ears and rattling my nerves.

  Dan’s voice sounded from far away. “Jennifer? Hello? Are you still there?”

  “Yes, sorry,” I managed to say.

  I brought Dan up to speed with regards to the
three threats I’d received so far, as well as the man with the cookies Tim had spoken of and the young chap on the scooter who had followed me for a while. I felt foolish for not sharing these things with him before.

  “The messages you received are virtually identical to the words the partner spoke to me,” Dan whispered in a shaky voice.

  “I know. Are you saying you believe the threatening notes came from Mason & McGant?” I asked.

  “Let’s just say there’s a very strong possibility. It’s certainly within the character of the kind of things they might do to try and intimidate someone. But whoever was behind it, there’s no way that these events are simply innocent coincidences,” Dan concluded, pausing for a moment. “Having said that though, I can’t and won’t leave it at this. Something rotten is happening at Mason & McGant and the world needs to know about it.”

  I started pacing up and down the room, my brain moving into fifth gear. “Dan, you must be careful. They don’t have any footage of you at hand to blackmail you with. So as soon as they even have the slightest hint that you know more than they care for, you pose a huge risk to them. Who knows what lengths they’ll go to in order to keep you quiet. I don’t have to remind you of what happened to Oliver and Sandra.”

  There was sharp knock on the door, startling me.

  Hans stuck his head around the door, making a gesture of ‘Are we having lunch’?

  “Hospital,” I mouthed, pretending I was consulting a specialist about a patient.

  Hans raised his hand and closed the door behind him, and I gave a sigh.

  “You’re right,” came Dan’s voice. “I can’t take any risks and I need to think of Bella. I will ask my ex if Bella can stay with her for a while. Given the circumstances, I’ve decided to go into hiding somewhere in a hotel so that I can safely and quietly press on digging through all the evidence,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone as if he was booking a quiet retreat somewhere instead of seeking shelter.

  “When were you planning to pay a visit to the DFI?” Dan asked.