The Devil's Reflection

by Colin Davy

  She looked up at Maria. “I never dreamt it would be something like this.”

  To Gary’s eyes, Maria looked the model of a girl hiding something. Her downcast eyes and silence seemed to shout out she had guilty secret, but Sophie didn’t appear to notice. In some ways, it reinforced his confidence that she’d no part in Debbie’s death. She was such a poor actor, she’d have given herself away immediately.

  “We noticed Scott had been drinking,” Gary said softly. “But we’d only opened the window to let in the breeze, and with the guard rail being waist-high.” He sighed. “it’s something you never expect to happen.”

  “You don’t,” she said. “He was always a well-built man so his centre of gravity was high, but of all the idiotic things to do …” She broke down and began sobbing before dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. “Balancing on your guard-rail like a big kid,” she said. “Just like him, and he was so looking forward to the birth.” Giving up on the composure, she let the tears flow.

  “Now, now.” Maria hurried over to hug her. “Let it come out, Sophe,” she whispered. After a few moments, Sophie gradually settled and when Maria glanced over at him, he knew it was time to go.

  “Please don’t become strangers,” Sophie said as they as they prepared to leave. “That’s the last thing Scott would have wanted.”

  “We’ll never be that, Sophe, I promise.”

  When Maria headed for the car, Sophie held him by the elbow for a few seconds. “Make sure you keep hold of that girl,” she whispered. “She’s just what you need.”

  “I will.”

  After giving a tight squeeze, she released him, and he followed Maria to the car. Once inside, Maria clutched his hand. “Should we have told her the truth?” she asked.

  “We did.”

  “No, I mean the absolute truth?”

  He turned to face her. “Who would that have benefited?”

  “I suppose so.” Although she released his hand, she continued to stare. “Do you think Sophie suspects anything?” she said.

  He frowned in surprise. “I doubt it,” he said. “Why would she, and what is there to suspect?”

  When she looked away, he noticed two pink spots on her cheek. She feels guilty, he realised, even though there was no real need. When she’d intervened, the worst of Scott’s temper had died away, but you couldn’t blame her for not knowing. She’d reacted instinctively, and as it happened, all too effectively. Although there was no blame attached to her, she remained silent until he started the car.

  “It’s all so sad,” she whispered, so softly that he only just made it out.

  “It was an accident, Maria,” he said. “You didn’t mean to push him out the window, he was off-balance and you were filled with adrenaline.”

  “I wanted to stop him hurting you.”

  “I know,” he said. “His blood alcohol level was sky-high, it’s a miracle he could stand up. It shows what adrenaline can do. Poor Scott, it must have been eating him alive.”

  In the short silence before she replied, he felt her staring at him. “I wish I hadn’t been so angry, Gary,” she said. “When he accused me of lying and being involved in Debbie’s death, I lost it. I calmed down before you started fighting, but once you did, I tried to help and …”

  “I know,” he said again.

  “And poor Sophie,” she said. “I’m sure she told the truth when she said she’d have forgiven him because she’s such a forgiving person.”

  “Like you,” he said.

  “I wish I was.”

  His frown was brief. “Of course, you are.” She’d forgiven Gail once she’d thought things through and that was more than he’d done.

  When she sighed this time, he realised how well he could read what she intended to say. It would be a self-effacing reason why she wasn’t worthy of his compliment. “We both need forgiving,” she said. “You, because you lied to protect me.”

  “Oh?”

  “You know you did.”

  “I didn’t lie,” he said. “It was an accident.” He nearly added ‘Wasn’t it?’ But that was asking for an honest answer and she might feel too honest. “Why do you need forgiveness?” he asked instead.

  “For wanting Gail to be taught a lesson,” she said. “And for attacking Scott when I should have paused to think.”

  He nodded, she worried too much, he thought. Yes, her instinctive, final push had proved fatal, but she couldn’t be blamed. There was no point muddying the waters, the meeting with Sophie, the first since the accident, had gone well. What might have been an awkward meeting had ended amicably, if emotionally. There was a long grieving process ahead for her and he’d ensure he was there when he was needed.

  It was no surprise that Sophie had suspected something was amiss with Scott, and she’d made no effort to ask him about it directly. Instead, she’d thought up possible reasons for his innocence. In a similar way, he’d never asked Maria directly if she’d killed her sister. Of course, he hadn’t, why would he when he already knew the answer. Any evidence against her was circumstantial only.

  The mystery of Debbie’s death seemed solved. She’d dabbled once too often. No one else was to blame, but if he’d solved anything, it was only because of his reputation with Gail – a reputation built entirely on Maria’s say-so. He was an accidental Sherlock Holmes who just happened to be there. Taking away the impossible had left only various degrees of unlikely.

  Scott’s death was an unfortunate side effect of his own involvement with Maria. Without that, Debbie’s death would have passed unnoticed by him and the Sinclairs. Scott would have continued his double life … or would he have done?

  Maria’s premonition about him had been right, but for the wrong reason. He’d been an accidental catalyst. Her prediction that the dark shadows haunted the docks even after Debbie’s death had come true too. Although a cynic could suggest she’d helped it along a little.

  Two other possible solutions were left to be eliminated, but he’d dismissed them both. The first, that Gail had been with, and encouraged Debbie, to take the drug was unprovable, even if he could establish her presence. The second, that Maria had been there and encouraged Debbie’s folly was even more ludicrous. Although both women had wanted the other to take the blame, neither looked responsible.

  Scott’s death was more nuanced in some ways and a blame-game was possible. Scott’s blinding anger - his reaction to being found out, his own clumsy and physical reaction to mild provocation from Scott, and lastly, Maria’s well-meaning but clumsy push all could be looked at closely. But what was the point? Sometimes sleeping dogs are best to sleep. The guilt would nag away at him for some time, but he’d get through it. Would Maria?

  She shuffled in her seat and looked restless when they neared the docks.

  “We need to look ahead,” she said, squeezing his thigh firmly enough to make him wince. “It’s time we got married.”

  “Eh? Now?” His unspoken worry about her recovering from guilt had been answered, yet it was too early, surely?

  “Why not?”

  Give her full marks for resilience, he thought, but as she continued to speak, her eyes took on a new enthusiasm. “For an engagement ring, you can’t beat a diamond, but I insist on paying, even if you’ll have to cough up for the wedding ring. That has to be gold, don’t you think?”

  “Is this the right time to make definite plans?” he asked.

  She leaned back in surprise. “It’s the perfect time, Gary, we’ll put the past behind us and look to the future. Nothing else need concern us.”

  For some reason, he could hear Debbie’s words echoing in his head while Maria became engrossed in plans … “You’re soft,” she had warned him. “You don’t realise how soft you are. She’s much harder than you believe.” Yes, she’d known her sister better than he had then. Was her warning accurate? Possibly at that time. He’d always thought of himself as being too hard-nosed at times, always letting his head rule his heart. That’s probably why he’d
lived so long without a serious relationship. Maria shared that steel; in fact, in poker parlance, she was seeing and raising him on that characteristic. They were so alike in many ways.

  When he gave a reluctant smile, it encouraged Maria to continue working out their future life together. It crossed his mind that he’d better not argue too much in the future. If he did, he’d better stay away from steep staircases and open windows. It wasn’t funny really, but the quicksand had smothered any critical faculties he’d once possessed. Even worse, he didn’t miss them.

  What was the name of the female spider they claimed ate her mate after copulation? A Black Widow? It might be an old’s wives’ tale – it certainly wasn’t an old husbands’ tale – but it seemed a good analogy for now. Why waste useful protein if and when he outlived his usefulness?

  He didn’t care, she was beautiful. To him, she was breath-takingly so, both physically and in her soul as well. Let’s face it, she’d had him at hello, as Scott would have quoted. He just hadn’t realised it.

  Were Scott still alive, he’d have a host of other film quotes to offer too. Sorry, Scott, you were a true mate, but in some ways, Maria had acted for the best. A much neater ending all round with no threat of blackmail remaining to sully things. Scott would probably have dropped his silly accusation in time anyway. Maria hadn’t meant to kill him, but from that tragedy had come closure, even if she’d feel unnecessary guilt.

  She’d always mean well, he decided. As the quote from the Godfather nearly went. “Tell Scott, it wasn’t personal, it was business.” Not something to joke about, he supposed, too near the knuckle.

  Maria’s saving grace would always be her religion, even if Debbie had doubts about her there. She’d always feel profoundly sorry and in need of forgiveness - afterwards. But rather than sinking into a pit of depression, she’d slap on a happy face. After all, it’s turned out alright again, in a gormless George Formby way. He sighed, Scott had been rather good at Formby impressions even if his accent ruined it, and he’d had to explain to most people who George was. He’d miss Scott, he decided

  Glancing over, he saw Maria lost in her own thoughts, her eyes gleaming with new possibilities. Marriage? A big step, but he’d look forward to it. Would it be a marriage made in heaven, or were they too much alike? He fancied that if looked deeper into her soul, he’d see a familiar face working out the odds – his own.

  Accept it, Gary, he thought, all that’s left of you is the slight puckering in the surface of the quicksand.

  THE END

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Born in 1950, in Boston, Lincolnshire when everything was in black and white, as colour had yet to be invented, I became proficient enough with the chalk and slate to complete a PhD in toxicology. I worked in the NHS, Pharmaceutical industry and finally the Civil Service, publishing around twenty peer-reviewed papers in scientific journals.

  I’ve lectured at scientific meetings in Philadelphia, Vienna, San Diego, and Amsterdam, and in 2005, I was asked for advice by the US Department of Homeland Security, thus earning myself a reputation locally as a smart-arse.

  Since turning to fiction upon retirement, I’ve published three e-books with Wild Wolf Publishing – An Ever Rolling Stream (2014), Beside A Saltless Sea (2017), and Our Foolish Ways (2018) – and a short story called An Appetite For Change, in an on-line magazine called Fictive Dream (2016).

  Now living in Merseyside with my wife, we have three children and two grandchildren. I still support Boston United, a team playing in the sixth tier of football, but my second team is Wolverhampton Wanderers who wear the old gold and black shirt in a bid to emulate their Lincolnshire heroes (or perhaps not).

  ACKNOWLEDEGEMENTS

  I’d like to thank Paul and the staff at Wild Wolf Publishing for their continuing and helpful advice, Scott Weeding for a mean cover, and Josefine Winther Jorgensen, who checked and advised on the story, using her superb eye for detail.