by Dawson, H A
Imogen was appreciative.
He filled the kettle with water, switched it on, and prepared two mugs.
‘Come see this,’ she said. ‘I’ve made a few changes.’
He stood at her rear as she showed him the new version of the website. It wasn’t complete, but he had to admit what she was doing was appealing, and projected a more modern, forward-thinking look to the business. And the image worked too. He didn’t look sleazy, as he had feared he would, but appeared strong, determined, and professional.
‘That’s very good,’ he said, nodding his head.
‘I told you. I should update the advertisements and leaflets too … make them match.’
Luke agreed, and since the kettle had just boiled, poured the steaming water into the mugs, inhaled the glorious scent of coffee, and presented one to Imogen.
‘Admit it, you’d be lost without me.’
‘You have you uses … not just a pretty face.’
‘But it helps, right?’
Luke hid his appreciation. There was so much more to Imogen than her beauty. She was a huge asset to his business, and it was something he must never take for granted. Without her, he would be nothing, both professionally and personally.
He settled into his seat, scanned his work, and needing a break from the monotony of his work, he tried catching Imogen’s eye, hoping for a conversation. When she didn’t say anything, since she was engrossed in her website design, he broached the subject of a new client, Stacy Scott, arriving in the next half an hour.
‘She rang me on my mobile last night. The call was brief. All she said was that someone was targeting her in a hate campaign.’
‘As in?’
‘She didn’t elaborate, but she sounded very anxious. Anyway, afterwards I did a quick search on the Internet. She was involved in serious car accident last week. Her partner could end up paralysed.’
‘What a horrid thing to happen! Do you think there’s a link?’
‘I think it's a possibility. At first, I thought someone may have run them off the road, but I spoke to my mate at the police station, and he said no one else was involved.’
‘Has the car been checked?’
‘It doesn’t appear to have been tampered with.’
‘So the driver lost control?’
‘Yes, that was Nick James.’
Imogen leaned forward, resting her arms on the desk and exposing more of her cleavage. He tried not to look.
‘I have an idea,’ she said. ‘Maybe she suspects he tried to kill her.’
Luke smirked. ‘You’re imagination is working overtime today.’
‘Just a thought,’ she said, returning her attention to her monitor. ‘No need to be snotty.’
Luke grinned, maintaining his attention.
‘Or maybe she’s left him because of his injuries, and someone disapproves.’
‘That’s even better! Where do you get these ideas?’
‘When I’m right, you’ll owe me. In fact, you can be my slave for a day.’
‘You’re on. Not that I have to worry. Your idea is crazy. I know Stacy from years back. She’s not the type to abandon someone because of a disability.’
A smug look landed on her face, causing a moment of despair. He feared she knew something and was about to comment when the door bell sounded, someone’s arrived. Believing it to be his client, he leapt to his feet.
‘That’s right. Get in practice.’
Dismayed, he shook his head. ‘You’ll be so far off the truth, you’ll be the one slaving for me.’
‘You think?’
‘I know, and I can’t wait.’
Having exchange pleasantries with Luke, relating to their shared memories, Stacy spent a few minutes with Imogen filling out the standard contract, and then she was guided into a room at the rear.
Settling onto the blue sofa, whilst she waited for Luke, her nervousness rose. Rehearsing her speech, she wondered if she had been hasty in hiring a private investigator, and decided what had happened was a police matter. However, it was too late to back out, and certainly without providing a reason, and knotted her arms, crossed and uncrossed her legs, and waited for his arrival.
After a couple of minutes, he entered the room and closed the door. ‘Sorry about that, I had a client on the phone. Has Imogen offered you a drink?’
‘She has. I don’t want one, though. Thanks.’
He settled into a seat behind a desk. ‘Can you start by telling me why you’re here?’
‘I think I’ve made a mistake coming. I think this is a police matter.’
‘If it is, we can pass on the information.’
She clasped her hands.
‘Just start at the beginning.’
She took a replenishing breath of air, noticed the kindness in his eyes, and started her tale. ‘Yesterday, when I got back home, I received a letter.’ She passed it across. ‘As you can see it’s a complaint relating to some money I’m supposed to have received. I haven’t. I know nothing about it. That form is obviously a photocopy.’
‘I see. Do you or does anyone close to you have a sandwich business?’
‘No. That’s just it. I know nothing about it. I’m terrified that this is going to blow up in my face. If someone has been receiving money on my behalf, it could get a lot worse.’
‘Hmm. Do you have any ideas who would do something like this to you?’
‘No I don’t. I didn’t think I had any enemies.’
‘It’s not necessary someone you know. Someone could have used your address for the complaints.’ He looked at the photocopied form. ‘In fact, the money was sent to a post office box. See?’ He pointed to the small text at the top of the form. ‘Without anything else to go on, tracing them could be difficult.’
‘So this is a police matter?’
‘I would say so. Has anything else happened?’
Stacy gulped and looked to her lap. She should mention the posters on the school walls, and the online abuse, but talking about it wasn’t easy. She wasn’t even certain the two cases were related, and she could be doing all this for nothing.
‘You look hesitant,’ Luke said.
‘I have had a bad week. I was involved in a car crash last Friday.’ She shared the details, and to her own surprise admitted to the argument, Nick’s affair and their break up. In actuality, rather than feeling the shame she expected, it was a release and made her feel less deserving of the events that occurred at school. Nevertheless, as she told Luke what happened, her words choked her throat, her hands quaked and her eyes misted.
‘Have you learned which pupil was responsible?’ Luke asked in a gentle tone.
‘No. Normally, the school is very quick learning these things, but no one knows.’
‘When did the trouble start?
‘The posters were on the school walls first thing on Thursday morning. It seems more likely that they were placed there during Wednesday after classes. Some of the doors are left open for cleaning duties. Someone could have slipped in.’
‘So it might not have been a pupil?’
‘That’s possible.’
‘Could that be true of social media too?’
‘I suppose so. Although I think that was reactive after the children saw the posters.’
‘Okay.’ He rotated his pencil between his fingers. ‘Has anything else happened? It doesn’t matter how minor, but it is important I know so I can assess if there is a case or not.’
‘I’m a bit embarrassed to say, but I’ve upset two of my friends.’ She shared the details of the planned meal and told him of Christie and Jenny’s reaction. ‘I’ve been telling myself I’ve done no wrong, but I have come around to believing what I did was a bit thoughtless. Having said that, I wouldn’t have expected the backlash I got.’
‘Would you think they would be vindictive enough to cause you problems?’
‘I wouldn’t think so. Christie visited me Sunday morning when I’d already sent the email. She may h
ave thought I should have told her there and then.’
Luke remained impassive, not commenting.
His response caused her to leap from the sofa. ‘I’m sorry. I’m wasting your time. I doubt there’s a connection.’ She slipped her arms into her jacket. ‘I’ll go to the police with the letter.’
‘Of course, you should do what you feel is necessary. Although for what it’s worth, I have a hunch there is a connection. However, narrowing it down may be difficult. The person responsible could be someone you’ve offended directly, like Christie for example, or it could be related to Nick’s accident, meaning it could be one of his friends.’
‘Both seem a bit far-fetched to me. If someone has a problem with me, they’d tell me. Why go to the extreme of printing off leaflets with a business opportunity, and setting up a post office address. It’s a lot to do in a week.’
‘Then someone must have access to the right facilities. Do you know anyone in the printing business?’
Stacy was thoughtful. ‘Christie’s new partner, Josh Dimka works for a mass marketing company … Pickard’s. I don’t know if they do their own printing. It’s a big firm so they might.’
As he scribbled the name on a notepad, a chill descended her spine as she realised what her potential enemy had had to overcome. Whoever was responsible, must have spent a lot of time, effort, and money to cause her anguish, reasoning they must despise her. It was a horrid feeling being the target of such hatred and not something she would ever have expected to endure. Staring wide-eyed at Luke, she prayed for an innocent explanation.
‘It’s certainly a starting point,’ he said. ‘However, I also suggest we progress this with the police. I’ll give you a contact.’ He scribbled a name and number of a sheet of paper and handed it across. ‘Mention me and let them know my involvement.’
‘I will, thanks, Luke.’
‘And let me know if anything else happens. In the meantime, I’m going to have to ask a few questions to some of your friends, including Nick, if that’s okay. We need to rule out any involvement from his side.’
‘Sure.’
She provided him with the necessary information, and feeling a little more upbeat, exited the building. Once outside, she breathed a relieved sigh and checked her phone. A message had arrived from an unknown caller.
‘I’m watching you,’ it said, ‘and I’m disgusted.’
She spun around, scanning for people in parked cars, looking at the pedestrians and through the windows of the local buildings. No one appeared to be paying her any attention. Nonetheless, responding to her growing unease, she trotted to her car, climbed inside and flung the phone onto the passenger seat. As she started the engine, her phone warbled an incoming sound.
Anxious, she picked it up.
‘… and relax.’
A moan escaped her lips. She placed it down, and fighting her developing tremors, pulled away. After about a mile, she was unable to tolerate her anxieties a moment longer and parked the car at the side of the road, and having gathered her breath dialled Luke’s number.
‘Someone’s following me,’ she said, ‘When I left, I received a message saying as much, and then another arrived just as I got into the car. It said, “and relax”.’
‘Does it say who it’s come from?’
‘No. There’s not even a number with it. It says, “number unknown”.’
‘Did you see anyone follow you?’
‘No. I didn’t hang around, but I still had a proper look. No one has followed me in the car either. I stopped just beyond a roundabout, about a mile away. I’m in a lay-by.’ She peered through the rear view mirror, checking once again. ‘I would have noticed.’
‘Whoever is doing this could be trying to scare you. It could be coincidence.’
‘So you don’t think anyone saw me.’
‘It’s possible, of course, but I’d think it unlikely. Did you come straight from work?’
‘Yes. I left an hour and a half early. I don’t normally do that, but given what’s happened this week, the head allowed me to leave.’
‘So it was a break from your routine?’
‘It was. No other teachers followed me, or anyone else for that matter. The roads were unusually quiet. It could be that I’m just more used to the rush hour traffic.’
Luke paused.
She listened to the silence.
‘Could the message have another meaning?’ he asked.
Stacy’s thoughts whirred. The second message ordering her to relax was a common phrase, but more importantly was something the yoga instructor said after every exercise. ‘Someone at yoga has sent it.’ She told him her thoughts.
‘Okay …’
‘It is one of my friends, I’m certain of it. It’s too much of a coincidence otherwise.’ She tightened her clutch on her phone, a response to her displeasure rising through her body. ‘Why would anyone do that?’
‘I don’t know, but we will find out.’
‘Thanks, Luke.’
She ended the call, dragged her hand through her hair, and tried to understand the hatred that was so obviously felt. She couldn’t believe Christie or Jenny, and certainly not Kim were responsible, but believing it was one of the other members of the class was equally difficult to believe. Not only had she known the majority of people for almost ten years, but she also considered herself a popular member. Many had taken up on the offer of the meal. Wasn’t that proof she was in favour?
Never before had she been the focus of someone’s spite, the results could be dire. It was difficult to digest, and wanting to share her burden, wondered whom she could trust. Everyone was a potential enemy, everyone but Nick.
She loved him and she missed him, and right at that moment wanted nothing more than to feel his reassuring presence and listen to his soothing words. If she hadn’t insisted they went out for a meal, none of this would be happening. It was an unappealing reality, and a burden she must bear. Heavy-hearted, she headed for home.
Chapter 6
Luke shut the driver's door, waited for Imogen to get out of the car before locking it, the view of the sunlight beaming onto the hospital buildings and it's extensive car park, boosted his cheerful demeanour. Stepping in line, they weaved around the cars, crossed a narrow road leading to the main entrance of the A & E department.
‘I still don’t believe that you knew nothing about Stacy’s case beforehand. There’s no way you could have guessed about any link to her break-up with Nick. No one is that intuitive.’
A smile broadened Imogen’s face. She did not look at him, but marched inside, heading towards the lifts, and pressed the button for the third floor.
‘Come on … spill.’
‘There’s nothing to spill.’
Luke frowned.
‘I hope you’re looking forward to slaving for me,’ she said, passing him a sideways glimpse.’
‘I can’t wait. Did you speak to her on the phone?’
A glint formed in her eye. ‘No.’
‘And she didn’t call in?’
‘No.’
Dismayed, he entered the lift. As they ascended, Imogen passed him a smug glance, increasing his determination to learn the truth. She wasn’t going to make it easy, nor was she going to lose her advantage. If he was going to find out, he was going to have to give something in return.
They exited the lift.
A thought struck him. ‘You know one of her friends.’
‘No.’ Imogen grinned. ‘This really bothers you, doesn’t it?’
He did not respond.
‘Do you hate the thought of slaving for me that much?’
‘It’s not about that. I’ll do it regardless.’ He was just about to say it would be a pleasure but stopped just in time. She didn’t need to know the depth of his feelings. It would ruin their relationship. ‘It’s just bugging me, that’s all. And I don’t like you having one over on me.’
‘Aw, poor Luke. So you’ll promise if I tell you, you won’t bre
ak our deal.’
‘I promise.’
‘It was partly intuitive, but I confess, I had seen the abusive messages going around Facebook. It was only when you started to talk about her that I made the connection.’
‘You knew all along!’
Imogen chuckled. ‘I didn’t know she was our client. That bit was a guess.’
He started along the corridor, heading to Nick’s ward.
‘Happy now?’
‘I suppose.’
‘And you’ll still slave for me.’
‘If that’s what you want.’
She regarded him with amusement. ‘Oh it is, but don’t expect it to happen quickly. I need to make plans.’
Doubt and anxiety formed in his gut. What had he done? With Imogen, anything was possible. However, now was not the time for worrying contemplations. Nick’s ward was ahead, and they had business to do.
He stopped outside the doorway, drawing Imogen’s attention. ‘Do we know exactly what we want to learn?’
She lifted the clipboard. ‘It’s all here.’
‘I’ve made notes too. Butt in if there’s something I’ve missed.’
‘Of course.’
Luke pushed open the swing door and gazed over the beds on either side of the ward. Some of the men were laid down, although the majority were sat up and either gazing around the room, sharing conversations with their neighbours, or reading books, magazines, or newspapers. Nick James wasn’t obvious.
A nurse sauntered towards them.
‘Luke Adams.’ He offered his hand. ‘Private Investigator. I spoke to someone earlier on the phone about questioning Nick James in relation to a case. I was told it would be all right to come in and speak with him.’
‘It is. Before I introduce you, I would like to warn you to go easy on him. Mentally, he’s not in a good position. I take it you know of his accident.’
‘Yes. Does he have many visitors?’
‘His parents are in every afternoon. A woman has been in a few times too. She’s a charity worker and has been offering him help and support with the mental side of his injuries. It’s a bit early for that in my opinion, but hey, who am I to disagree?’