by M. L Rose
Harry knocked on the door and said the password. Cherie opened the door. Arla’s breath caught when she looked at the thin, haggard face. Cherie’s cheeks were considerably more shrunken than last time, and dark roots where showing plenty in her blonde hair. Her usually bright, large eyes were glassy. But they widened when they saw Arla. Harry stood to one side and let Arla enter first.
The room was full, with three suitcases in various stages of being unpacked. There was only one dresser, and Arla knew it would also be full. Cherie was dressed in jeans and jumper, sans makeup. The table had a small mirror on it, and it was littered with envelopes, newspapers. The room was a mess. From a des res to this, Arla thought.
“Are you OK?” Arla asked. Cherie glanced away and her lower lip trembled. Arla stepped forward and touched her arm.
“I know this is hard for you,” she said. She opened her arms and Cherie stepped into her embrace. A soft sob escaped her throat as she hugged Arla. Arla released one arm and waved at Harry. He turned and went out, closing the door.
Cherie let go, then sat down on the corner of the unmade bed. She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief that had CL embroidered at one edge, Arla noticed.
“Is it true? About Luke, I mean,” Cherie asked in a small voice.
“Yes.” Arla knew Harry had told her. “James Fraser was his biological father. Did you know that?”
She shook her head vigorously. “It’s a shock to me. You see, I wasn’t married to David that long. Only one year.” She gripped her forehead. “I’m starting to see I knew so little. He had this whole past that I knew nothing about.” She turned and stared at Arla. “I feel like such a fool.”
There was no acting in this. Her eyes were sincere. Arla said, “We were all fooled by this. So don’t feel bad about it.”
“But I was married to him! He never told me...obviously he didn't love me, did he?” tears rolled down her eyes and she took the handkerchief out again and wiped her cheeks. “Gosh that sounds really bad, doesn't it? He’s dead and I’m saying that about him.”
“It’s a lot to take on board,” Arla said. She rubbed Cherie’s forearm. “Many of us lead secret lives no one knows about. Sometimes not even the ones we love.”
Cherie stared at Arla with red rimmed eyes. “Yes,” she whispered.
“Thank you for alerting us about the text that Luke sent you. We tracked his location on the back of that.”
“No problem,” Cherie sniffed. “I wasn’t even sure if I was doing the right thing. But now I’m glad I did.”
Arla said, “But I don’t think Luke is the killer.” Gently, she told Cherie about Luke and Simpson. Cherie covered her mouth. Shock had frozen her into silence.
“I’m sorry,” Arla said. “It is possible that Luke was abused from a young age. Abused children can become abusers themselves. It’s a tragic circle. That’s probably why Luke made those films.”
Cherie rose and went to the window that looked out into a courtyard. She kept her back to Arla and head bowed.
Arla said, “But Simpson confessed to assaulting you. I think he’s done that to many women over the years. I’m going to speak to one of them later tonight.”
Cherie remained silent and still. Arla got up and went to her. “At least some good will come from this. We got Simpson. I’ll make sure he never hurts anyone again.”
Cherie flexed her jaw, and when she turned to look at Arla, there was cold steel in her eyes. “Thank you.”
“No problem. Can I ask you about Laura Douglas, David’s ex-wife?”
“What about her?”
“Did David ever speak to you about her?”
A sad, mirthless smile crept into Cherie’s lips. “He never told me about Luke, what makes you think he would say anything about his ex-wife?” She looked away. “He mentioned her. How sad he was when she died. It took him more than a year to get over it. It destroyed him, to be honest. I told you that before.”
“I know. Can you think of anything specific David said about Laura? It could be important.”
“He said she was kind and caring. A soul mate. He was devastated when he lost her.” A curious expression flitted across Cherie’s face. She frowned, then grimaced as if in sudden, deep pain.
“What is it?” Arla asked.
Cherie leaned forward, gripping the window sill hard. “Soul mate. Guess I was never that to David, was I?”
“That’s not true. He wouldn't have married you if he didn't love you. Maybe he was waiting for the right time to tell you. Guess that moment never came. I’m sorry.”
Tears were rolling down Cherie’s face again. Arla rubbed her back. “Shall we sit down?”
When Cherie had composed herself, Arla asked, “Did you know if Laura had a friend? I mean did David ever mention that to you?”
Cherie thought, then shook her head, blinking puffy eyes. “No. Not that I can recall anyway. He told me about the funeral, how doing the speech was the hardest thing he did. But nothing about a friend.”
Arla rose. “I’ll leave you alone now. But I’m around if you need me. Just call.”
Cherie also got to her feet. “Thank you so much. Really appreciate you being here.”
“Has Emily been to see you?” Emily Hudson was the family liaison officer.
“Not yet. I’m sure she will.”
“Do you have any family around?”
“I’m a single child and my parents are both dead. But I do have some friends around.”
Arla lingered by the door. “Will you go back to live in the house?”
Cherie’s face darkened. “I can hardly carry on living here, can I? What option do I have? I need to see the lawyer first about the will, and the money.”
“OK.” Arla opened the door. “Just call me if you need anything.”
Cherie thanked her again and Arla left. Harry was loitering in the corridor, looking bored. He glanced at his watch.
“You know we have to get to a party, right?” Tangye Gale, the actress, would meet them at a film inauguration party.
“It’s work, Harry. Not recreation.”
“I bet you there’ll be free drinks. Besides,” he rolled his shoulders and stretched. “When they see me, I might get offered a film role. I could be England’s George Clooney.”
“You’re more like England’s Chevy Chase. Now shut up and move.”
CHAPTER 66
The film inauguration party was at a large pub in Soho, the heartland of London’s creative industry. Soho’s narrow, cobbled streets were lined with bookshops, studios, art galleries and peepshows. Bearded bohemians rubbed shoulders with city folk in sharp suits. Warm yellow lights gleamed inside pubs packed with punters.
Harry stopped in front of a large terraced building which had a sign that said, “Dog and Fox.” It was a traditional pub, older than most, Arla noted, judging by its thatched roof and timber beams. Two bouncers at the front checked bags and ID before letting people in. A skinny woman with a guest list on a clipboard stood next to them, smoking and shivering in the cold.
Arla introduced herself, and they had to wait till Tangye Gale was called. A tall, glamorous woman appeared shortly after. She wore a blue camisole dress, shoulders bare. Her chestnut hair was shoulder length and glinted in the light. She checked Harry out for longer than necessary, then smiled at him in a way that Arla didn't like. She stepped past him and held up her warrant card.
“DCI Baker,” she said loud enough for all to hear. “Can we come inside please?”
Tangye’s green eyes fell on Arla and her eyebrows lifted. “Sure.” She gestured at the bouncers and the rope was lowered, and for the first time in her life, Arla stepped on the red carpet. It was softer than she had thought and was glad of her flat shoes. She wondered how Tangye had walked on this in her high heels.
It was dark inside, expensive looking dresses gleaming in the dim lights that moved around, flickering on and off. Tangye was the same height as Arla, and they appraised each other in silence.
Her dowdy black business suit. Well, she was here for work. Tangye stuck a hand out and Arla shook it, feeling her surprisingly hard grip. Arla returned it, her lips twitching at Tangye’s generous, if somewhat nervous smile. Arla introduced Harry.
“Yes,” Harry said, “we spoke on the phone.”
“I remember,” Tangye said in a throaty voice, which Arla thought, she must reserve for men. Harry was smiling like an idiot, and he was about to say something when he caught the venom in Arla’s eyes.
Tangye cleared her throat. “Shall we go somewhere quieter?”
They followed her upstairs, squeezing past the skinniest women Arla had ever seen. She didn't miss the handsome men who nodded at her and smiled.
Upstairs was quieter with armchairs strewn around. Several couples were head to head in deep conversation. Tangye sat down in a chair opposite two empty ones.
Arla got straight to business. “We have Mike Simpson in custody. He is charged with the murder of David Longworth.”
Tangye nodded. Her serene eyes became troubled. “Everyone’s talking about it. Nothing like this has ever happened in our industry. They were two of the biggest names. Behind the scenes, I mean.”
“What do you think about it?”
Tangye seemed taken aback by the question. Her eyes flitted from Arla to Harry. She cleared her throat.
“What do I think? Well, I took Simpson to court two years ago for molesting me at his office. I can tell you I’m not the first one. It’s an open secret. You have to sleep with him to get a role in one of his films.”
“Then why did you go to see him?”
Tangye didn't seem perturbed by the question, but a hardness flashed in her eyes. “Don’t you see your boss, detective, when you want a promotion? What about a job interview? Do you expect to be told to take your clothes off at that time?”
“No, I didn’t…”
“Well that’s what I was told to do. By one of the pillars of our industry. Like it was the most normal thing in the world. What makes me sick even now is the relaxed look on his face, like he expected me to just go ahead.”
Arla waited, aware of the sudden anger that radiated across to her. Tangye said, “When I refused, he said I would never work in the industry again. He even said forget about Los Angeles. His mates in Hollywood would make sure I never got a role anywhere.”
“Then what did you do?”
“Well, I asked around. You know what surprised me? How many women didn't say anything. I knew their silence was as good as a lie. That protected him. But I did find another person who was just as pissed off as I was.”
“Sarah Skelton. The other actress who brought charges against him. That led to another three women coming forward, right?”
Tangye nodded. Arla lowered her voice. “You did the right thing. I know the case got thrown out due to lack of evidence. But, now, we have Simpson where we want him. I cannot tell you confidential details about the case, but you can reinstate your charges, and bring them to court.”
Tangye’s beautiful eyes widened. “You mean reopen the case?”
“Exactly.”
“What makes you think it will work this time?”
Arla smiled. “Let’s just say I have a good hunch.” She became serious. “Did you know David Longworth?”
CHAPTER 67
Tangye’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. She went to say something then paused. Arla noticed the hesitation, a small warning unfurled in the back of her brain. She had never guessed the truth about Luke. She didn’t know what was hiding here either.
In a neutral tone Tangye said, “I never worked with him. But of course, everyone knows about him.”
Arla said, “Yes, so do I and the rest of the world. But I’m asking if you knew him personally.”
“No.”
“Did you ever hear anything about him? Was he a womaniser?”
Again, the slight hesitation, then a shake of her head, less convincing this time. “I never heard anything about him, no. Look, he was a famous film director. He was high up in the BBC. Everyone wanted to meet him.” She stopped.
Arla frowned. “And?”
“And nothing. I never heard rumours about him.”
Harry said, “We’re not asking you to compare him to Simpson. But you’re sure you never heard any stories about David?”
“No.”
Harry sat back in his seat. He got up a second later. “Going to the loo,” he said to Arla.
She waited till Harry had gone, then turned her attention back to Tangye. They held each other’s eyes. Arla saw a toughness in her stare, Tangye was clearly a person who wouldn't be easily intimidated. She respected that.
“You can tell me,” Arla said. “Off the record. No one will ask you for a statement.”
“You’re fishing in the wrong waters, detective. I don’t know anything about David Longworth. He’s clean as far as I know.”
Again, Arla got the impression something lay below the surface here, but she couldn't put her finger to it.
“Did you ever meet David’s wife? Or ex-wife?”
“No. Like I said, I didn't know David personally.”
“Did you know Luke, his son?”
A shadow passed over her face. The mask slipped once more only this time, it fell lower. Arla shuffled forward on her seat.
“Luke is under arrest, Tangye. Did you know that?”
The glacial calm had cracked, and Tangye eyes were moist all of a sudden. She swallowed, her long graceful neck barely moving. She sniffed.
“Tell me,” Arla urged.
Tangye looked down at her hands and splayed her long fingers. No rings, Arla noted.
“It was Luke who introduced me to Simpson. I did a commercial for a designer wear. Luke was the director. He told me Simpson was looking for a new face.”
She was silent for a while, avoiding Arla’s gaze. “I regret it. I never spoke to Luke after that.”
A distant buzz was getting louder in a corner of Arla’s brain. What was she missing here? A shape was forming in her brain, and she just needed to make the right connection. Was Tangye connected to David through Luke?
“Where were you the night of 17th November?”
Tangye looked up like she had been slapped in the face. From her expression Arla knew exactly what she meant. Arla repeated her question.
“I...I don’t remember.”
“Are you sure? Maybe you need some time to think.”
Tangye touched her forehead. “I think I was out with the crew after a shoot. Not sure. I need to check my diary.”
She didn't ask why that date. Because she knows why.
Arla waited while Tangye thought for a while. Soon, Tangye said, “Look detective, I thought this was about shedding light on Simpson. Not sure how it got me in the spotlight. I’ve had a hard day, and I need to relax. Can I get back to you about this?”
Arla relented, despite the warning signs flashing in her mind. There wasn’t much more she could do tonight anyway.
She thanked Tangye and stood. She weaved her way past the bodies and got to the ground floor. She walked around, looking for Harry. A waiter with a tray of flute glasses stopped her. Arla was tempted by the frothing bubbly, but good sense prevailed. She shook her head and walked on.
She found Harry in a dark corner, leaning against the wall. He wasn’t alone. A striking looking woman, dressed in a long gold, figure hugging dress, stood close to almost touching him. Her skin was tanned to almost brown. A sudden weight hit Arla like a sledgehammer in the gut. She couldn't breathe. The woman clearly knew Harry well. He was paying close attention to her, head leaning close to hers.
As she watched, the woman lifted a long arm and smiling, leaned forward to touch Harry’s chest.
CHAPTER 68
Arla stood rooted to the spot. Jealousy erupted inside her like a geyser, blowing apart all ration
al thinking. She shook in rage as the woman laughed and Harry joined her, throwing his head back. The woman was facing Arla and she caught her eyes. The smile faded from her lips. She tapped Harry on the arm, who turned. His laughter stopped abruptly when he saw the stormy look on Arla’s face.
With a feral snarl, Arla twisted away. She barged past bodies, colliding with a waiter. The tray of flutes went flying. A woman shrieked, glasses smashed on the floor. Arla paid no attention. Someone shouted her name.
She threw the doors open and stepped outside. The bouncers looked surprised. She pushed past them, and one of them reached out to stop her.
“Whoa, easy there.”
“I’m a DCI,” Arla shouted, slapping the hand away. “Get out of my way, now.”
An arm tugged at her shoulder and she turned to find Harry. He grabbed her arm and she fought him, dragging them out on the street. A car honked and swerved to miss them.
“Arla stop!” Harry shouted.
“Let go of me,” she said, teeth clenched. “Go back to your friend.”
She was panting, still trying to free herself from his clutch, but he was strong. She almost spat in his face. “Let go of me now before I kick you. Now!”
Harry let go of her. Breath clouded their faces. Arla shook her head, pain suddenly spearing her insides. She almost doubled over but turned to leave. Harry grabbed her again.
“Go if you want to, but listen to me first.”
“You have nothing to tell me.”
She put the flat of her palm against his chest and shoved him back. He stumbled, caught his feet on the pavement and toppled backwards.
“Harry!” a woman shouted and tottered towards him on heels. It was the same floozy he was chatting to.
“Hope you’re happy now,” Arla shouted at her. The woman had stopped over Harry and helped him to stand up. She left him and walked over. Her eyes were blazing.
“What’s your problem?”
Arla squared up to her. “I’ll give you a problem. Listen love, I can bury you six feet underground right this second. You want to try me?”