Sweet Oblivion

by Rhiana Ramsey

  Two detectives had gone to the family home to deliver the news of Mr Saunder’s death. Mrs Janet Saunders had been distraught by the news and unable to tell the detectives anything other than that her husband had told her he had a business meeting that he anticipated would drag on, but he had intended to come home. Sometimes he did stay in London, but he would usually call her to let her know if this was the case. She’d been trying to ring him all day, but he hadn’t replied. She’d been so angry with him and caught up in her own day that she hadn’t had time to feel too concerned. And then she had collapsed, unable to talk anymore, and had practically thrown the detectives out of the house.

  Robert intended to visit her in the morning. It was important they learnt all they could about the victim and who better to tell him than his wife? They would talk to his immediate family members, friends and co-workers as well.

  The hotel had CCTV which covered the lobby and the corridors. They hadn’t yet been able to view this as it was a digital system that could only be operated by the hotel’s security manager, who just so happened to be on holiday in Scotland.

  ‘We’ve never needed to access it before,’ the hotel manager had said apologetically, his face white and drawn.

  Robert felt for the man, and for Greta. He was hardened to death and bodies and blood. They, however, were not. The security manager had promised them he would take a flight back to London in the morning, once he was assured he would get his holiday time back and would be suitably recompensed for the inconvenience.

  Robert yawned widely, rubbing his hands over tired eyes. 11 o‘clock. Time to go home. He couldn’t achieve much more and had scheduled a briefing for 7am. He didn’t hold out much hope of sleep, but it was worth a try.

  ************************************************

  Louise giggled as Steve led her out of the restaurant. A few glasses of Pinot too many had made her decidedly tipsy.

  ‘Do you know that I love you?’ she slurred, wrapping her arms around Steve’s neck and trying to kiss him.

  ‘Yes babe, I do.’ Steve gently pushed her aside as he attempted to lock the restaurant door.

  ‘You know what? I think we should christen the restaurant. Take me back inside and shag me rotten!’ Louise demanded.

  Steve laughed.

  ‘Come on, you know you want to!’ she chirped as she pushed her hand down his trousers and rubbed his groin.

  ‘Lou, you’re a very bad woman,’ he pulled her close to him and kissed her, ‘but we need to get you home. Aren’t you working in the morning?’

  ‘I am. I am. But given that I have to choose who we’re going to fire, I think Ben owes me a lie in. What a rotter, eh? Making me choose who to sack. I am going to be the most hated woman at the magazine,’ she sniffed loudly, and propped herself up against the restaurant wall.

  ‘Is this the booze talking or do you really give a shit?’ Steve asked holding her face in his hands, the street lights reflecting in her glazed eyes.

  ‘What do you mean? Of course I give a shit! Except about that twat Derek. He’s hated me since I arrived. Shame he’s quite good at his job, or I could’ve given him the boot….’ She giggled again. ‘I might still give him the boot actually.’

  Steve had successfully managed to lock the restaurant door and was now holding Louise up with one arm. He raised his other arm to hail a taxi.

  ‘Shame you don’t give a shit enough about me to come down to Cornwall this weekend. I thought you’d enjoy the surprise,’ he said, accusingly.

  He’d told her over their late dinner that he had booked them a cottage for the weekend in a quiet little town in Cornwall and they would need to leave Friday night. He wanted to take her away and make her relax because she’d been so uptight lately. She deserved the break and he wanted to spoil her. Wasn’t she happy? She’d then told him about her promise to go to the awards ceremony on Friday and they had argued. It was so obvious she preferred Ben’s company, Steve had said. Why was he always so low on her list of priorities, why did he always come after her work? Why couldn’t she just allow herself to be taken care of for once? Why did she always have to be so bloody difficult? Why? Why? Why? By the time dessert had arrived they were talking civilly again, but she could tell Steve was still upset.

  Louise stopped wriggling in his arms and looked at his face.

  ‘Steve, how can you even think that? I love you and I would have loved to go to Cornwall with you, but I have got to go to this awards do on Friday. The company is in trouble and this is very important to us. If this company goes under, I lose my job. Why can’t you understand that?’ she said, feeling herself becoming annoyed. ‘Ben needs me there. Didn’t you listen to what I said over dinner?’ she challenged.

  ‘Yes I did and if Ben needs you then I guess it’s alright. Look, I don’t want another argument. Let’s just go back to yours and talk about it later.’

  ‘Oh I see! You’re jealous of Ben! What about that bitch Melissa who makes eyes at you all the time? That’s ok, is it? I have to accept that, but you won’t accept that I am actually needed by my work and can perhaps help my boss, who, by the way is also a friend of mine. One set of rules for the gorgeous Steve Mardon and another for Louise Jackson!’ Louise could feel her temper rising, even though she knew she was being unfair.

  ‘Louise you’re drunk and I am not going to talk to you in this mood.’ Steve was getting angry and Louise knew it but she couldn’t help herself. What was his fucking problem? When did she ever say no to him? How was she to know he’d booked them a weekend away?

  A taxi pulled up to the curb and Louise tumbled in.

  ‘Steve, I’m going home without you. You can be such an arsehole, such an infantile, petulant arsehole! So, thank you for dinner, but now leave me alone.’ She slammed the door shut and gave directions to the cab driver, leaving Steve standing shocked and open-mouthed on the pavement. She didn’t even bother to turn round as the cab pulled away.

  Steve shook his head in amazement and disbelief. Ok, so he liked his women feisty and tempestuous, but sometimes he wished Lou would just fucking chill out. Steve crossed the road and successfully hailed another cab. As the taxi headed off in the opposite direction to Louise, Steve gave the cabbie the address of his intended destination. He didn’t want to go home yet, he wanted some consolation and he knew exactly where to go to get it.

  Chapter VII

  Gatwick airport was throbbing. Thronging crowds meandered through the airport, some wheeling cases behind them, others with packs slung on their backs, all wearing the same tired yet excited expression. Queues from the check-in desks already twisted around the terminal like restless serpents’ tails, people shuffling slowly forward in their long lines, passports and ticket printouts in hand. It wasn’t even yet 8 o’clock but the airport was humming with travellers.

  DCs Elizabeth Lane and Gregory Hampton sat in one of the airport cafes. They were sitting departures side simply because there was a greater selection of cafs to choose from and because the ‘people watching’, as Elizabeth called it, was so much more interesting on this side of the airport.

  People in arrivals were either happy to have arrived or disappointed a holiday had come to an end. The people in departures, however, demonstrated a whole variety of emotions, Elizabeth had said. There was the solitary traveller trying to instigate conversation with strangers, the lone traveller in his own world, the group of stags or hens heading off for a final weekend of hedonism and debauchery, the young couples who could barely keep their hands off each other, the old married couples who travelled in companionable silence… A few seconds of observation were usually enough to slot each traveller into the relevant pigeon hole, Elizabeth had told Greg, her work partner of over three years.

  When they’d first been partnered together Greg had been sceptical. After all, he was 53 years old, had completed his necessary thirty years in the job, had dropped out of school to join the army in his teens and spoke with an East-end accent. Elizabeth was the tota
l opposite; she was 30 years old, had only been in the job for eight years, was pursuing an Open University degree and spoke the Queen’s English. Chalk and cheese. Greg had not imagined they could have worked so well together.

  Despite these apparent differences, however, they had quickly come to realize that they actually shared the same mind set and values. This combined with their shared love of rock music, socializing and their job meant they had quickly forged a strong friendship; they were no longer just partners, they were now firm friends. Neither officer could imagine being partnered with anyone else and the fact that Greg was considering retirement in six months time was causing them both considerable consternation.

  Now as they sat drinking coffee and hot chocolate, overlooking the departure hall Elizabeth felt a tug of wanderlust; she hadn’t had a real holiday in two years.

  ‘Wish I was taking a flight out of here, I can tell you,’ mumbled Elizabeth

  ‘Huh?’ Greg looked at her, coffee cup poised at his lips.

  ‘I said, I wish I was taking a flight out of here. A nice two-week break diving in the Maldives or trekking through the jungle in some far flung place. I would even settle for a weekend in Benidorm at the moment,’ she sighed wistfully, stirring her hot chocolate, head resting in her left hand.

  ‘Jesus, how desperate are you?’ asked Greg ‘Bloody Benidorm! Have you never seen Brits abroad? You’d last a day max then you’d be dying to come home.’

  Elizabeth smiled, ‘Ok so maybe not Benidorm.’

  ‘Besides, wouldn’t you rather be here working this murder? I’ve never seen anything like it in all my thirty years,’ said Greg.

  ‘Hmm… I would, but it doesn’t feel like we are working on this murder. We’re baby sitting the bloody CCTV guy, that’s what we’re doing.’

  ‘Every cog has its place in the larger investigative wheel, Elizabeth.’ Greg said sagely.

  She looked at him, eyebrows raised in amusement.

  ‘Where did that little nugget come from? You’ve changed your tune! You hardly said a word after we were tasked with this. Talk about grumpy!’

  ‘Yes well, that’s early mornings for you - not the job at hand. What time is this guy due?’

  Elizabeth looked at her watch. ‘Just over half an hour. I’ll go check the arrivals board, check there are no delays.’ She got up and sidled off.

  During the briefing that morning, Elizabeth and Greg had been tasked by DI Scott with collecting Keith McFadden from Gatwick and conveying him ‘as fast as you fucking can’ to the hotel so he could begin downloading the CCTV.

  The importance of viewing the CCTV as soon as possible was not lost on either detective, but they had been surprised at being ordered to pick the CCTV manager up from the airport. After all, the Gatwick Express would have got him into Victoria in 15 minutes and they could just have easily met him there, instead of having to drive all the way to the airport. They hadn’t even been allowed to hear the rest of the briefing as they were ordered out of the office to ‘get fucking cracking’ within minutes of the briefing starting.

  Greg suspected they had been sent to the airport in order to limit the damage Mr McFadden could cause if he chose to discuss the murder with his fellow passengers. They couldn’t stop him talking on the flight, but they could isolate him once he got off.

  ‘No delays. The flight should be here on time,’ Elizabeth declared sliding back into her seat and grabbing her mug simultaneously. ‘We’ll drink these then go up to arrivals, eh Greg?’

  ‘Yeah, ok.’ he replied.

  ‘I was just thinking. Soon I won’t have to worry about where to go on holiday, or the cost.’ Elizabeth said, leaning into Greg conspiratorially.

  ‘Oh yeah, why’s that?’

  ‘Cos, when you retire and piss off to Poland, I’ll be able to visit you whenever I please. I intend to make the most of that open invitation you gave me.’ Elizabeth laughed as Greg’s smile froze into a grimace.

  Greg’s plan upon retirement was to emigrate to Poland with his long-term Polish girlfriend, much to Elizabeth’s delight. ‘Another country I can add to my list,’ she smiled.

  ‘That invitation was extended when I was drunk and beyond rational thought!’ Greg countered.

  ‘Yeah, yeah, whatever. You can try and hide behind the booze, but you still said it and I will take advantage of that fact.’ Elizabeth smiled sweetly at him.

  Greg opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, then downed his coffee and slammed the cup down on the table in mock anger

  ‘Right come on, up to arrivals,’ he said, choosing to ignore her.

  Elizabeth chuckled and drank the dregs of her hot chocolate.

  ‘Yes sir Greg Hampton Sir,’ she teased. ‘Just so you know though, this conversation isn’t over.’

  Greg, however, was already on his way out of the café marching in the direction of arrivals. Elizabeth smiled to herself, shook her head and then followed him out the door.

  ************************************************

  Her head was banging. It had been all morning.

  Bloody Pinot

  Louise hadn’t spoken to Steve yet. She was still stewing and still couldn’t quite believe the argument had escalated as it had. She was furious that he was jealous of her relationship with Ben and her commitment to her work. She was the one who should be jealous, what with that vulture Melissa circling round him, waiting for an opportunity to his jump his bones, if not pick them clean.

  When she had told him to leave her alone and that she didn’t want him coming back with her, she hadn’t really meant it. She’d expected him to get in a different taxi and turn up on her door step, full of apologies and remorse. He hadn’t and that had pissed her off even more. Usually, he was the first to give in and that was the way she liked it. Then they would have great make up sex, tell each other how much they loved each other and all would be forgotten. Maybe she had finally pushed him too far.

  Louise had never been good with relationships. She found it so hard to trust; she was always scared that if she let someone in and gave them her heart and soul they would leave her. So, she pushed and pushed so nobody could get too close. By keeping people at arm’s length, she could protect herself from the emotional agony of being abandoned, mistreated or cheated on. She’d seen and experienced enough heartache in her life; she’d decided a long time ago that she would never allow herself to suffer in that way again.

  Her dad had left when she was a child and her mum had gone into meltdown. Louise had been too young to remember in any detail, but she had been told by her foster family that her mother had been sectioned shortly after her dad’s departure, and had then promptly committed suicide at the asylum by hanging herself. Louise didn’t remember there being a funeral, but then she didn’t remember a lot of things from her childhood.

  A lot of her adolescence was a blank for her too. She guessed no one had ever been able to track down her father to ask if she could stay with him. Not that he would have said yes anyway, given that he had abandoned them in the first place. Why would it be any different now her mother was dead?

  And so it was, the eight year-old Louise had lost both her parents within the space of a month and had ended up living in a nice part of London with a new family.

  She remembered that she had an older sister, Michelle, but they’d lost touch once they were taken into foster care; Louise’s new family had been unwilling or unable to take both children. She didn’t even know if Michelle was still alive. Sometimes she thought about trying to track her down, but she felt something dark lurking deep within her when she considered this, as if something unknown, perhaps her subconscious mind, was dissuading her. She felt a sense of foreboding when she thought about her family and was always surprised at how little she could remember of them all, especially her dad. Louise’s foster family had been good to her, but she’d gone ‘off the rails’ by the time she’d hit her early teens.

  In a bid to try and curb her self-destructive
behaviour, the family had moved to Hertfordshire, hoping the countryside and slower pace of life would help calm her down. Louise had not enjoyed living there, missing the hustle and bustle that she was used to and when she turned 17, she left home and moved back to London, renting out a poky flat with another girl and a couple of boys and working any job she could find.

  She’d had a series of boyfriends and the relationships had always been tumultuous and complicated. Some had hit her, all had cheated on her and none had helped her. It was as if she was broken, and instead of trying to fix her, the men she had mixed with had wanted to destroy her. It had become a familiar pattern, as if she was on a destructive carousel, ever spinning and unrelenting. She couldn’t get off and didn’t know how else to live her life.

  She had finally been rescued from the carousel in her early twenties by a man called Francis, the first man to look at her like she was a person, the first man to support her and love her. He had picked her up and raised her onto a pedestal from which she could finally see she deserved more, was worth more and could change her life. She only had to believe in herself and with his help and reassurance she finally had.

  Nine years on Francis was only a lingering memory but his goodness and kindness were not; they had shaped Louise into the woman she had become. She was now doing a job she loved, had people around her that cared and had enough money to enjoy life. She was now confident, independent and resilient; gone were the days of letting someone else dictate her life, put her down and lay their hands on her. She knew she owed it all to Francis and for that she would be eternally grateful; if he hadn’t come into her life like some angel sent to protect her, her life would have undoubtedly continued its downward spiral.

  On top of her hangover this morning and her frustration at Steve, Louise had to get the ‘list of doom’ ready for Ben. So far she’d put two names on the list, agonizing over each name for an hour a piece before reluctantly committing her thoughts to paper. Just another 18 names. Not enough time. Definitely not enough time if she was going to spend the day sitting around musing about the past and ruing her hangover. She sighed and leaned forward over her desk, grabbing a handful of personal files. If she was going to do this, she was going to do it right and consider each person’s merits in full. She opened one of the files and began to read.