Death's Privilege

by Darryl Donaghue

  ‘I’ve nearly finished your midway review. We’ll have you running this place in no time.’

  Tower Road’s beat officer had emailed about the reassurance visits:

  Hi Sarah,

  We door knocked the whole of Tower Road. Most people had no issues, although some mention comings and goings at number 12. Strange vehicles parked outside (by strange, I think they meant regular cars, if you know what I mean) and ‘unsightly types’ making very short visits. Sounds like drug dealing activity. One couple suggest the occupant was ‘on the game.’ This was based on most of the guests being men. I got the general impression people didn’t like the occupants living there.

  Need anything else, just let me know.

  The next email was from an unknown address. It drew her eye amongst the various newsletters, internal circulars and general chitchat. She clicked. The email expanded to full screen and she saw herself in Joel’s arms by the entrance of The Candy Club. Her heart pounded and fingers shook so much she struggled to control the mouse, scrambling to minimise the screen. She looked around; no one had noticed. She brought it up again and shrunk the window to a little corner before scrolling down.

  There were five photos in total. The first one was an embrace; the next four showed them kissing. It looked much worse than she remembered. She looked at the email address: Zyptap23456@hotmail.com. She ran it through the Intel system. No hits. She ran it through Google. No hits. Alison. Alison must have seen who took them. She brought up the duties system and clicked on Alison’s personal details. The standard warning popped up, informing her the account owner would be notified of the request and asking her to input the reason why she wanted her contact details. ‘Personal reasons’ would have to suffice. She locked her computer and walked into the corridor to call Alison’s mobile.

  ‘Hello?’ Alison yawned the word out.

  ‘Alison? It’s Sarah.’

  ‘Oh. Hi. I’m not at work.’

  ‘I know, sorry to disturb you at home, but I need to ask you something about last night.’

  ‘What? What is it? I’m genuinely ill, not just hungover.’

  ‘It’s nothing to do with that. Did you see anyone taking pictures of us last night?’

  ‘Pictures? No. You’re not allowed to take pictures in strip clubs. Jeez. Why? Are there pics of us somewhere?’

  ‘No. No, just wouldn’t want any cropping up anywhere.''

  ‘Okay. Is there something you’re not telling me?’ Alison sounded suddenly awake and attentive.

  ‘No. There’s nothing for you to worry about. Just being paranoid, that’s all.’

  ‘Aaah, I see. After getting off with Joel. Can’t imagine you’d want that coming out. What did he make you for breakfast?’

  Why couldn’t the alcohol have erased that one moment?

  ‘I woke up at home, thank you. It was a silly drunken mistake.’

  ‘Next to your husband? Nice.’

  Sarah didn’t like Alison knowing so much about her and definitely didn’t like her knowing about her little infidelity. Knowing this woman held any kind of power over her made Sarah uncomfortable. The less she had to do with her, the better.

  ‘Well, that’s all I wanted to know. I’ll let you get back to sleep.’

  ‘What you did was really shitty, you know.’ Alison snapped. Her flashbacks of the previous night must have been slowly kicking in.

  Sarah lowered her voice. ‘It wasn’t deliberate. I hadn’t planned on it.’

  ‘After all your preaching, you go and jump in. I’d made it clear I was interested. And you’re married too. With kids, not that I should have to remind you.’

  Alison pointed out all the things she already knew. Sarah wasn’t proud of her actions, but they certainly hadn’t been premeditated. She wanted to call Alison out, reminding her she wasn’t single herself and that her intentions went far further that just a drunken kiss. Any attempt at rational discussion would have resulted in trading insults and bringing them no closer to reconciliation. Sarah didn’t want to be best friends forever; she just wanted Alison to keep her mouth closed.

  ‘We’ll talk about this another time.’

  ‘There’s nothing to talk about.’ Alison hung up.

  Sarah walked back to her desk, tapped in her password and brought up the photos again. It hit her. From the angle of the shot, it was possible Alison had taken them. Even if photos were prohibited, a few discreet snaps with a camera phone would have easily gone unnoticed. Without knowing the distance the shot was taken at, and between the bottle of red and her hazy memory, the only way to be certain was to look on The Candy Club cameras.

  She forwarded the photos to her personal account and deleted them from the work computer. If she wanted to see what was on those cameras, she’d have to ask a favour of Leilani Hayes, a prospect that twisted her stomach in knots.

  Twenty

  The Candy Club lost its glamour during the day. Without the pink and blue lights, thumping music and distraction of gyrating flesh, it had a very ordinary feel to it. Two women cleaned the stage, one scrubbing the floor, the other shining the pole. Sarah wondered who’d drawn the short straw for the gents toilets.

  ‘A drink?’ They stood by the bar. Leilani remained standing and gestured towards a stool.

  ‘I’m fine. On duty and all that.’ Sarah discreetly looked around the room for cameras, not seeing any. Licensing laws dictated premises like this had working cameras. They were here somewhere. Of all the legislation I revised, that’s what stuck in my head.

  ‘Is this something to do with my case, Detective?’ Leilani gave her a knowing smile.

  Sarah laughed off her little dig. ‘We’ll get to that. It’s about last night. I need to look at your CCTV.’ Sarah looked around the ceiling. ‘If you’ve got any?’

  ‘Oh, we do. It’s a pretty good system. Not the fuzzy black and white stuff you’re used to viewing, I imagine.’ She leant in and whispered, ‘I have a weakness for Crimewatch.’

  ‘That’s good. Could I have a copy of the main room cameras between midnight and closing? Someone I’ve been after for a while may have been here last night.’ It was flimsy, but she hoped Leilani wouldn’t ask too many questions. Seizing it would have been illegal, as her reasons weren’t related to the prevention or detection of crime, but she didn’t want to seize it. Just to take a look.

  ‘I’d love to help. I would. But I’m sure you understand, our clients value their privacy. We installed the system to protect the girls and, unless you’ve got a court order or a warrant, I can’t give it to you. I can ask my sister, but I’m pretty certain she’d agree.’ Leilani pulled an awkward smile. ‘Sorry.’

  A warrant wasn’t an option. She wasn’t about to walk into Manford’s office and ask him to support a warrant to find out who snapped her and Joel kissing in a strip club. She was in a situation her legal powers couldn’t help with.

  ‘I don’t have one. You mind if I walk around a little?’

  ‘Sure...what’s all this about?’ Leilani raised her left eyebrow, giving Sarah a playfully curious look. Sarah found herself on the verge of spilling everything. Telling her she had made a terrible decision from a lonely and jealous place, which had led her to do something stupid, bringing her here, where she was now lying to cover her tracks. Sarah was the police officer, the one supposed to have ways of making you talk, yet Leilani made her feel like a sinner needing to confess with the simple raise of eyebrow. She wondered what a woman like that could do to a man whose wife spent a little too much time at the office.

  ‘I received information suggesting someone I’ve been looking for frequents this place and may have been here last night.’ Sarah gave the entrance area a good look before walking in between the tables and chairs.

  ‘A tip off? Sounds exciting. What have they done? Oh, you probably can’t tell me, right?’ Leilani followed close behind.

  ‘I’m afraid not. Confidential information.’

  ‘On the night you were here? Surely
you would have seen them?’

  Sarah was conscious of how close Leilani was to her. She felt her watching her every move, every tilt of her head as she tried to glance around the room arousing as little suspicion as possible. ‘It was a busy night. And it’s fair to say I was a little drunk.’

  ‘Not as drunk as your friend. How was she this morning?’

  ‘Threw a sickie.’

  ‘And that big hunk of yours?’

  ‘Of mine? Hardly.’ Sarah turned around and faced her, unsure what she’d meant by that comment. Unsure if she knew, if she’d seen. Glancing back at the entrance area, Sarah was sure this was approximately the angle the shot was taken, but couldn’t quite tell the distance. A little way off from where she’d first thought.

  ‘Oh come on. I know I couldn’t resist a guy like that. Is he married?’

  Sarah didn’t hear the question.

  ‘Are you?’

  Sarah was guessing at best, but with a long enough zoom lens and the angle of the shot, it was more than possible the photographer had been backstage behind the podium.

  ‘Cos it really didn’t look like that last night.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Is that why you’re here? Because you got off with Denzel and you don’t want your husband finding out?’

  Leilani must have known the minute she received her text. She’d seen them together that night and Sarah was now convinced she knew about, had maybe even taken, the pictures. They’d spent the conversation dancing around the issue. Sarah wanted to nick her right there. Leilani was up to something and between her, Dales and a little creative thinking, they’d find out what while she languished in the cells. Adrenaline caused Sarah’s hands to shake and she became acutely aware of their proximity, Leilani’s body position and the precise location of the cuffs on her kit belt. Whoever this woman was—receptionist, bar staff, domestic violence victim, seductress—she was messing with Sarah’s family. Bringing her in would be easy. The pretty ones never knew how to fight.

  ‘His name’s Joel.’ The more Sarah wriggled, the tighter she was bound. She didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of mentioning the photos. ‘And, yes. If that went away, that would be good.’

  ‘I imagine it would. There’s just nothing I can do. I need to get this place in order before my shift tonight. You’re going to have to produce a warrant, or you’re going to have to leave.’

  Sarah raised her hands passively and walked towards the door, as Leilani smiled at her. The fiery adrenaline had reduced to a simmering anger bubbling underneath her skin. Leaving was the best thing she could do. Reacting now would only end badly. Caught on camera cheating was relatively minor; caught on camera launching a member of the public over a table was not.

  Sarah sat in the car and banged her hands on the steering wheel. She didn’t want to scream or shout, and the desire to rip Leilani’s locks from her scalp had subsided. She hated herself for the position she was in. If she’d only gone home, if she’d listened to her good sense, to Dale’s warning, to every piece of good advice she’d ever been given, she wouldn’t be in this mess.

  She questioned everything. Telling Dales there was more to Leilani Hayes than first met the eye was going to hurt. Exactly what would have to remain a secret. She needed help, but the admission of why was still too much for her to come to terms with. That she’d cheated; that she’d liked it. Maybe Alison was right about places like that. If it’d been that easy for her, how easy would it be for her husband? They weren’t a jealous couple, but things had begun to change. When she thought about fidelity, she’d pictured a certain type of woman, the type Mark would be around every day. There was little chance of him running away with someone in the next office or one of their daughters’ teachers. Ordinary women weren’t a threat; ordinary women understood. Leilani Hayes wasn’t an ordinary woman. She was someone who wanted to ruin Sarah’s life and had the tools to do it too. And that scared her.

  Twenty-One

  Sarah took the cottage pie from the freezer, set the microwave to defrost and pre-heated the oven. She thought about Ellie’s reaction in the car the other day. Sophie had been as resilient as ever. Nothing seemed to bother her, on the surface at least. It was difficult to tell what was going on underneath. Ellie was the more cautious of the two and was far harder to read. She stopped herself. I’m thinking about my kids like they’re suspects. I don’t have to read them, just need to put some time aside to spend with them. The microwave beeped and she transferred the pie into a glass tray and waited for the oven to preheat. She took the baby carrots, broccoli stems and asparagus from the bottom tray of the fridge, checked the dates on the bags and started up the steamer.

  The dinner conversation was light and she was conscious not to mention not being around. Spending their time together explaining why they had so much time apart defeated the point of being together at all. Sophie told her she’d made a new best friend—to replace last week’s best friend and to fill the gap before the next one—whose father was a ski instructor and took them skiing every year. Sarah could tell this would be Sophie’s latest fad. Ellie talked about her school projects and that she was reading The BFG. Sarah remembered reading Roald Dahl around her age. Despite how much had changed since then, she was glad some things had stayed the same.

  When dinner was over, she washed the dishes while her daughters dried. She put a slice of pie in the fridge for Mark. He’d be home soon, and rather than welcoming him with open arms she’d be asking him if he was having an affair. It couldn’t be Mark. It must be one of his workmates. She had confidence in her husband, but maybe Dales was right? Work had taken her away from home so much, did he even feel like they were married anymore?

  The girls went up to their room and Sarah tidied up the living room. The sound of the key in the door startled her.

  ‘Hello?’ Mark scraped his feet across the welcome mat as he called from the hallway.

  ‘In the lounge.’

  His collar was open and he seemed flustered. ‘Hello you.’ He put his arm on her shoulder and leant in for a kiss. She presented her cheek. He looked at her, not having to ask if something was wrong, in the way couples often don’t.

  ‘We need to talk about something.’

  ‘Now? I’m on my way out again soon. One of the guy’s brothers is in town, so we’re heading to the pub in a bit. Can it wait?’

  ‘No, it can’t.’

  ‘Okay.’ His face changed. He swallowed hard.

  There was no easy way to open the conversation. She’d thought about it from every possible angle and no matter what words she used, the question would be the same: Is everything we are a lie?

  They sat down on the sofa. She put her hand on his knee in a gesture of support. He was in the wrong, but there was still a twinge of guilt as she was the one bringing it up. She’d been raised to hold it all together, like her mother had done. The thought that her questions could shatter everything apart, despite having every right to ask them, still made a small part of her feel like the bad guy.

  ‘Something’s come up at work. A woman came into the office alleging she was assaulted by her partner. He took money from her too.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘When I asked for ID, she gave me his bank account number. Your business account number.’

  ‘My account number? Who is she?’

  ‘Her name’s Leilani Hayes.’

  ‘Leilani Hayes? I don’t know any Leilani Hayes. You sure it’s my bank details.’

  ‘Absolutely positive. I read them over and over trying not to believe it. How could someone get it? Is it posted online anywhere?’ Don’t offer a way out. Make him bloody answer for it.

  Mark stood up. ‘You think I’m having an affair? That’s what this is, isn’t it? More than that, you think I’d assault someone?’ He was almost shouting. She was certain he would be if the kids weren’t at home.

  Sarah was used to remaining calm in the face of aggression. Aggression from violent offenders lookin
g to affect their escape was a very different beast to the face of someone she loved. The uniform kept her at an emotional distance. She’d remained calm whilst protesters screamed inches from her face and whilst arresting thugs as the blood still dripped from their hands, but this, this was different. There was no line here, no badge in her back pocket to protect her from every expression, every look and every word.

  ‘Are you?’

  ‘This is ridiculous.’ He turned around to storm out. ‘Ellie?’

  Ellie stood at the door. Her eyes wet and her face trembling from hearing every word. ‘What are you fighting about?’

  ‘We’re not fighting, Ellie.’ Sarah walked over and crouched in front of her daughter. ‘We’re just having a discussion about something.’

  ‘I heard you. You were making Daddy angry.’

  ‘I...I wasn’t.’ She looked at Mark for support. ‘We just disagreed on something and we were trying to resolve it.’

  ‘I heard you through the door.’

  Mark came over. ‘That’s all that was happening, Ellie. We were just talking through a problem. That can sometimes sound like fighting.’

  Ellie looked at Mark. ‘Who have you been hurting, Daddy?’

  ‘No one, poppet. I’ve not been hurting anyone.’

  ‘Mummy said you have.’

  ‘It’s a misunderstanding.’ Mark looked at Sarah. ‘Isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes.’ She nodded. For Ellie’s sake. She didn’t want to hide the truth from her daughter, but tensions were too high to explain it now. That, and she didn’t understand the situation well enough herself to explain it to anyone, let alone a nine-year-old girl.

  She looked at Sarah, then at Mark and wiped her eyes. ‘Okay.’

  ‘If you go back upstairs, I’ll bring you some chocolate milk once you’ve done your homework.’

  ‘Okay, Mum.’ Ellie left the room and ran back upstairs.