The Devil's Reflection

by Colin Davy

  Logic could only go so far; emotion would be the ultimate guide. Not in a million years would she kill her own sister. Even if he’d discovered Maria standing over Debbie’s bloodless corpse with a bloodstained axe in her hands, he wouldn’t believe it. The quicksand had done its work well, he was happily up to his neck and still convinced he could wade out any time.

  Was quicksand the best analogy? Chess might be better, the white queen staying on the back row, leaving the pawn to do her bidding. But a worry lurked. Did she actually believe he had this power, and more importantly, that his fate was ordained? Possibly? The pawn had only limited mobility after all.

  He wandered over to the French windows and looked out, blinking in the alternating dark shadows and bright sunshine on the waters. The sudden ring of the mobile sounded harsh in the silence, but he recognised the number.

  Gail! Should he answer or ignore it? She was ringing him, so answering should be safe enough. “Hello, Gail, what do you want?”

  “I’d like to speak to you” Her voice was calm and unhurried.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said softly.

  “I think it is.”

  He sighed. “You’re entitled to your opinion.”

  “Listen, Gary,” she said. “I’m standing outside your door. The security man has seen me arrive, so I can’t claim I was kidnapped. I’ve come of my own volition, so you’re quite safe. Oh yes, did you know about the assault charges hanging over you?”

  He was surprised she didn’t know he did know. Did she think he walked around with earmuffs and blinkers on? John Wemyss’ right boot had left an indelible imprint. “They’ve been dropped,” she said.

  “That’s very good of you.”

  “I know,” she said. “Can I come in?”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  When he opened the door, she gave an uncertain smile, but at his reluctant wave, she walked slowly in.

  A film clip came immediately to mind from the many horror stories where the victim invariably invites in the blood-sucking vampire. But what else could he do? She might be calling to confess and she wore the appropriate clothing. A medium length skirt and a black, modest top which covered any possible erogenous zone, the long sleeves far too warm for the day. “Thank you,” she said, looking briefly around. “Almost identical,” she continued. “But it would be, wouldn’t it?”

  “The room?”

  She nodded, before sitting on the chair with a sigh of satisfaction. This looked more like a business meeting than a set-to, he decided as he sat opposite, “What do you want, Gail?”

  She smiled briefly. “What do you want, Gary,” she asked. “You must be getting a little horny by now.”

  He couldn’t stop the frown; although she tried to make the words light, he no longer trusted her. Perhaps he should have asked ‘what are you after?’ instead.

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “I won’t make you uncomfortable. Well, not any more than you are.” Her smile looked even more forced this time. “We’ll not be interrupted for some time, I spoke to Maria earlier.”

  “You seem to have an unhealthy interest in our business,” he said.

  “Only today,” she said. “I saw her leave earlier and I was about to come in when a man beat me to it. When I grew bored waiting for him to leave, I rang Maria.”

  “You didn’t recognise the man?”

  “No,” she said. “Should I have done?”

  He shook his head. It could be evidence that this girl either wasn’t the ‘they’ Scott had mentioned, or he’d kept his surveillance discreet enough to avoid her seeing him.

  She leaned forward. “Guess where Maria is?”

  “Shopping, I expect,” he said. “Liverpool One?”

  “Do they sell bank accounts?”

  “Eh?”

  “No, Gary, she’s not shopping, she’s waiting to see her bank manager.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because when I rang her, she told me so. Not that difficult, was it?”

  He felt his heart begin to race, she looked too confident, and the insult was too measured. If she was trying to irritate him, she was succeeding.

  “You’re very quiet,” she said. “No protestations about Snow White’s innocence?”

  “They’re not necessary,” he said, trying to make his tone neutral. There would be no confessions coming from her today, he decided, but he remained curious why she was here.

  “What happened to your face?” she asked.

  He sensed a note of genuine concern. “I fell over in the bath.”

  “You don’t have a bath,” she said. “Only a shower; I used to nag Deborah about these flats because of that.”

  He shrugged. “I fell over in the shower.”

  Her pretend concern changed to irritation and her voice dripped with venom suddenly. “Don’t tell me then,” she said. “But I’ll tell you something now for free. You can tell that bitch I did it,” she said with obvious relish. “I made sure her precious twin gorged herself to death on a new sweetmeat that was too hot for her.” Her voice was loud and angry but her face betrayed something different. He sensed bravado rather than genuine hatred. He was convinced there was something phony about this confession. “If you go to the police,” she continued. “I’ll deny it all and they’ll believe me.”

  A challenge to him, and a gigantic bluff. An obviously honourable man would do the correct thing even if it risked his reputation because the truth must come out at all costs. Did she think he was honourable? “Why would I accuse you without evidence?” he said as calmly as possible. Had he been Sherlock Holmes, he’d have bugged the room somehow - although in that era, he wouldn’t have had the technology. Instead, he’d have had a reliable witness like Inspector Lestrade listening in a convenient wardrobe and writing down the conversation. But he wasn’t Holmes and neither was he particularly honourable, so her challenge would be refused. But why did she issue it?

  “That’s good,” she said. “Because if you do, I’ll reactivate my original complaint against you. You didn’t know about that, did you? Yes, I made a formal complaint.”

  It presented him with a tricky decision. Assuming she hadn’t come around to gloat, and he credited her with being too clever for that, there must be another reason for the challenge.

  “I fought against you as hard as I could,” she continued. “And by ripping my flimsy top, you left clear evidence of your lustful frenzy. I’ve witnesses who saw my torn clothing.”

  Lustful frenzy? A nice term, and well-thought out, but he wouldn’t give her the pleasure of a forceful denial.

  “If you say it was consensual,” she said. “You’d be laughed at. My sexual preferences are well known. Your accusations would look wild and made-up.” She waited for him to respond but when he said nothing, the first signs of confusion appeared on her face. “Don’t worry, though,” she said. “If you stay quiet, I will too. I withdrew the accusations, despite the pressure to proceed from the police. But if you were to make up a stupid story about me, I’d reluctantly pursue the accusations as you’re clearly trying to divert attention from your own crimes.”

  “I didn’t have sex with you,” he said. “Or even try to.”

  “That’s irrelevant.”

  Damn, he’d played her game, but surely, she couldn’t be as stupid as she appeared. “I know,” he said. “That’s why I won’t say anything to the police. As far as I’m concerned, the case against you is closed.”

  She frowned, it wasn’t what she expected. She did think him an honourable fool after all.

  He felt like frowning too, because this didn’t make much sense if she was guilty. Unless he was missing something. Without that, the easiest explanation was both Gail and Maria were innocent.

  Did Gail want to provoke him into going to the police to prove his loyalty to Maria? He suspected she was the real target of her hatred. That way, Gail could destroy his reputation and show to the police he was a witless fool, a lackey of M
aria, who wanted to implicate an innocent woman to hide her own involvement. If so, Gail had an inflated opinion of Great Britain’s finest.

  Like most sensible people, he suspected the police would go for the obvious answer – accidental overdose. She was being too clever for her own good.

  He was guessing at her motive but perhaps she intended something far more complicated. Did she have a solid alibi, and was hoping she could goad him into accusing her of murder, thus making himself look extra foolish? She had read him correctly in some ways. He would be tempted to go to the police, if her alibi was weak or non-existent.

  Yet these scenarios felt too contrived. If Gail were involved in murdering Debbie, what did she hope to achieve? Provoking the police to look closer into the circumstances? If so, she must be innocent. Or was it an un-cunning plan to inflict on Maria the anguish she was feeling by making her seethe with impotent anger? Confessing her guilt to someone who couldn’t realistically go to the police would add to Maria’s frustration. A small act of petty revenge, but it didn’t make her a murderer. Or perhaps, she was a murderer and it made the revenge even sweeter.

  Yet she hadn’t recognised Scott. It was possible his peeping-tom act had gone unobserved, but it was unlikely. Scott was notoriously careless. If he really fancied Debbie, he’d probably trip over his drooling tongue in an effort to see better. Yet he’d concealed his sexuality successfully for years so he shouldn’t be underestimated.

  The whole thing was fishy. One solution was that Maria did indeed kill Debbie. It had the simplicity of being straight forward in this web of deceit, but he’d never believe that anyway. While Gail remained off-balance, he might as well probe a little more, he had nothing more to lose. “What did you do after you dropped Debbie that night?” he asked. “What sort of alibi do you have? You wouldn’t want me to go to the police if you weren’t covered by a cast-iron alibi.”

  She sighed. “Not as stupid as you look, are you Gary?”

  “So, who is your alibi?”

  Her smile returned. “That’s a question best addressed to your friend, Raif,” she said.

  “Why?”

  “Ask him.” She was in control again, and he was dancing to her tune. Raif must have supplied the alibi, but he was about as reliable as a chocolate teapot and only interested in number one. Anything but a water-tight witness. But she wouldn’t need a cast-iron alibi for routine enquiries. Alright, he decided, although he’d reduced the suspects to Scott or accidental death, he would do as she wanted and check out Raif too. Now Gail could go away and play silly buggers elsewhere.

  “Gary,” she said softly. “I never had any intention of going ahead with those accusations.”

  “Then why did you make them?”

  “To keep you on your toes. Maria is involved somewhere, I know it.”

  “Why involve me?”

  “Because I respect your cock-teasing girlfriend’s prophetic powers. Does that surprise you?”

  Something of a back-handed compliment, he thought, but yes, it did surprise him.

  “She has an unusual power,” she said. “I’ve seen it work. She can see things that are yet to happen. If she sees you bring the facts into the open, I believe her.”

  She was telling the truth now, he was sure of it. If she wasn’t a liar, she was gullible or stupid, and probably both.

  “I didn’t kill the bitch’s sister, Gary,” she said. “I could never have done that, despite her … shortcomings. I loved Deborah too much. Can Maria say the same?”

  For the first time, he sensed real honesty. “I think so,” he said.

  Her eyes widened. “You only think so? Good, we’re making progress.”

  “What game are you playing, Gail?”

  “The only game I can.” With that, she headed for the door, before turning to check on his reaction. “Don’t disappoint me,” she said, and she left him more confused and distracted than ever.

  The only feeling he’d picked up from her at the end was impatience and honesty, coupled with guilt. Perhaps he was developing ESP? More likely, he was convincing himself he had a nonsensical secret power. So far, he’d only managed to cock things up. He’d seen all the main suspects and found them all credible. Sorry, Sherlock, but taking away the impossible and the unlikely, he was being left with the implausible. Scott might be hiding things, but murder wasn’t among them. Had a crime even been committed?

  As for Gail, he remained uneasy. She acted like an animal in pain, biting out at everyone. But in so much agony, he couldn’t believe she’d inflict so much on herself by killing Debbie. She hadn’t murdered her, not deliberately.

  When Maria returned later, she seemed uneasy too, seemingly closing the door with reluctance before hurrying in. “How did your meeting with Scott go?” she asked.

  “Not well.”

  Dropping in the armchair, she sat and listened patiently throughout his summary, stopping him only to clarify things he’d explained badly. “Scott was hinting it was me he saw?” she asked.

  “A definite hint,” he said.

  “How would he recognise me?”

  “Sorry?”

  “How would he recognise me?” she repeated. “We’ve never met, Gary. Tonight, will be the first time Scott and I have clapped eyes on each other.”

  Doh! He was more a Homer than a Holmes. He’d forgotten that – bang went that theory. What a fool he’d been, Scott would have only the sketchiest description of her, she couldn’t have been the person Scott was referring to. Who else could he have been referring to when he’d said ‘you’d never believe me’? Someone they both knew? Someone like Raif? Possibly, he thought, but Scott could have been making it all up.

  “Go on,” Maria said with a hint of impatience. “What else did he say?”

  When he finished describing the meeting with Scott, she shook her head slowly.

  “Is there something wrong,” he asked.

  “Gail rang me earlier,” she said.

  “What did she want?”

  “I believe the phrase is to vent one’s spleen.”

  “Oh? I had something of the same,” he said.

  She frowned and rose to her feet. “She called you too?”

  “Worse than that,” he said. “She called round while you were out.”

  “No!” she said. “Did you let her in?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it was the best thing to do, and I learned something.”

  “What?”

  He had her full attention now, but he wasn’t sure what he’d learned. “What did you say to Gail?” he asked.

  “I retaliated,” she said. “I knew I shouldn’t have done, but she …can we talk about something else, please, Gary? What do you think happened on that Sunday evening?”

  “Alright,” he said. “I don’t think Gail murdered Debbie, despite what you think. I don’t think you murdered Debbie, despite what Gail thinks. I don’t think Scott murdered Debbie, but I think he’s telling the truth about seeing a visitor to Debbie’s room that night.”

  She said nothing for a few seconds. “I’ve eliminated you too,” she said softly. “Who’s left?”

  Was she serious? She certainly looked it. “We can check on Raif,” he said. “False alibis work both ways.”

  “You think it could be him?”

  “No.” There was no point giving her false hopes, and it was a faint hope at best.

  “You think it was an accident.” she said. “You’ve always thought that.”

  “Probably, but a strange sort of accident. I’m sure there was a visitor that night, even if no one’s come forward.”

  “Tom?” she asked.

  “Tom? Tom Maddison? Are you serious?”

  “Keith then?” she said. “Or John, I expect you’d like that.”

  “I would, to be honest, but they’re both long shots. Somewhere behind the wardrobe monster in likelihood.”

  When she flushed, he realised he’d gone too far. “S
orry,” he said.

  “Where does Raif live?” she asked.

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s Gail’s alibi.”

  “I know,” he said. “She told me about it too, she almost bragged about it, and I can show you where Raif lives. We can be there in ten minutes.”

  “Have you seriously considered Raif?” she asked,

  “Not really, he’s been too peripheral.”

  She nodded. “He’s a money man, and Deb’s was a rich girl. If she got cold feet and pulled out, it would leave him exposed,”

  He frowned. “You thought Debbie was too intelligent to be mixed up a fake him before, he said. And Scott had claimed to have met Raif in the pub earlier where he was bragging about his new female prospect. Yet Raif had denied it. Someone was lying. Had he been too eager to absolve his friend? He’d fit Scott’s description of someone he wouldn’t believe was there, and definitely someone Scott would recognise.

  “Normally, she would be too sensible,” she said. “But I was standing firm on her allowance last month. I didn’t think for a moment she’d do it in spite, but …”

  Not a great advert for his own powers of deduction either, but Raif was a natural con-man. He shouldn’t beat himself up about being taken in. Perhaps Debbie was too, at least temporarily. “Let’s go now,” he said to Maria.

  “I don’t think so,” she said. “He’s your friend and he’ll talk more freely if you’re on your own.” She looked upset, and he wondered if she was blaming herself for Debbie’s possible lapse of judgement. If so, she probably wasn’t in the right frame of mind.

  “You could be right,” he said.

  When he phoned Raif, he answered his call on the fifth ring. “Have you a few minutes?” Gary asked.

  He gave a patient sigh. “What is it this time?”

  “Are you at home?”

  “I am, but I’m busy,” he said. “Shouldn’t you be back at work by now, Gaz?”

  Gary looked up when his mainline rang but Maria moved over to answer it. Probably a cold call, he thought and he turned his attention back to Raif. “I’m off until next week,” he said.