by Dawson, H A
‘Is that common?’
‘Yes … unfortunately.’
‘And Mr. James is agreeable?’
The nurse hesitated her reply. ‘Let’s just say he hasn’t complained to any of the staff. Shall we go?’
They were guided across the ward. On closer inspection, some of the men appeared to be in a poor state of health, with one having a grey pallor and saliva dripping down his chin. Luke tried not to look; at the same time, he wanted to offer a sympathetic glance.
‘Mr. James,’ the nurse said brightly and drawing Luke’s attention. ‘This is Luke Adams. Remember I told you he was visiting?’ She cast Luke a quick glance, pulled the curtain around his bed, and announced she was leaving them alone.
Despite Nick’s dark, unwelcoming expression, it was evident he was a handsome man and had an even skin tone, vivid brown eyes, and small tight lips. In addition, his physique was muscular and toned, an indication he worked at his fitness. It was a sorrowful realisation that it may be something he would lose if his paralysis proved permanent. Trying not to dwell too much on the matter for Nick’s sake, he offered his sympathy and explained the reason for their appearance, stating as briefly as possible how Stacy had become a target of someone’s anger.
‘Do you know anyone who would want to hurt her?’
Nick stared at the foot of the bed. His face was clouded with pain.
‘I realise this is difficult for you, especially considering your separation. But you must still care about her enough to help her.’
‘Of course, I bloody care! What do you think I am?’
Luke gritted his teeth, urging him to continue.
‘And no, I don’t know anyone who would want to hurt her. Everyone loved her.’ He gazed through the window, apparently lost in his thoughts.
‘So as far as you know, she didn’t have enemies,’ Luke pressed.
‘No, she didn’t.’
‘I’m sorry to have to bring this up, but Stacy mentioned Kirsty, a new friend of yours. Would she-’
‘What has this got to do with her?’
‘Nothing I hope. We just need to rule her out.’
‘Kirsty does not exist.’ He held an assertive gaze. ‘At least not as far as you're concerned. Is this Stacy’s idea? Is she trying to stir things up?’
‘No, she doesn’t-’
‘I should never have mentioned her.’ He shook his head. ‘What a bloody idiot! Do you realise what I’ve done?’
Luke stilled, sensing it was a rhetorical question.
‘Hey, at least I’ve paid the price. Do you have any idea how it feels to have fucked up your life? I’ve got to live like this forever.’ He paused, studying their expressions. ‘Forever! How long is that? And all because of one stupid mistake.’
‘They can do amazing things these days. You mustn’t give up hope.’
‘What do you bloody know? You’re not a doctor.’
Imogen edged forwards. ‘Please try to calm down Mr. James. We understand you’re hurting, and that life has dealt you a rotten blow, but this is not our fault. We’re just here to help Stacy.’
His tension eased, his arms slumping to his side.
‘Now,’ she continued and glanced at Luke. ‘Do you know anyone involved in the sandwich business?’
‘No.’
‘Or anyone involved in setting up businesses or franchise companies?’
He shook his head.
‘Are you certain?’
‘Yes,’ he said slowly. ‘I might be disabled but I’m not stupid.’
Imogen’s expression displayed sympathy. ‘Do you know anyone involved in the Pickard’s marketing company?’
His face softened. ‘Stacy’s mum used to work there.’
‘Anyone else?’
He shook his head.
She glanced at Luke, and having spent a few more minutes failing to get a connection to Stacy’s antagonist, they thanked him for his time and started away.
‘How is Stacy?’ Nick asked.
Imogen spun around. ‘She’s a bit anxious, as you’d expect, and wants this over with as soon as possible. Would you like me to ask her to visit?’
‘No,’ he said quickly. ‘I don’t want to see her.’
They arrived at the car.
‘He’s very cut up,’ Imogen said, fastening her seat belt. ‘Poor man.’
‘If he carries on like that, he’ll push everyone away.’
‘Sensitive, as usual.’
Aware of her sarcasm, he regarded her with irritation. ‘I am sensitive! I’m just saying what everyone else’s thinking. He might be suffering … I understand that … but he doesn’t need to beat the crap out of everyone who is trying to talk to him.’
‘He wasn’t that difficult.’
‘We were there to help Stacy. We weren’t there to give him a hard time, although that’s obviously what he thought.’
‘They’ve just split up. On top of his injury, it’s a lot to handle.’
Luke did not respond, but switched on the engine and stared through the windscreen.
‘I’d bet you’d be far worse in his position.’ She opened her handbag, checked her makeup in a small mirror, and extracted her lipstick. ‘Is this how you’re going to be for the rest of the day?’
‘Meaning?’
‘Mr. Grumpy.’
Her directness irritated. Choosing not to respond, he checked for cars at his rear and reversed out of the parking spot. As they headed away, his tension gradually eased. Perhaps he had overreacted. It was just over a week since Nick’s accident and the situation was a lot for him to grasp. He told Imogen as much and apologised for taking his woes out on her.
‘Don’t worry about it. Although you have just made your slave day that little bit harder.’
He shot her a glance.
‘I’m going to make the most of it. I’m going to suck you dry.’
‘And what do I get out of it?’
‘My company?’
‘Jeez, thanks.’
Continuing along their journey to meet with Christie, he cast her a surreptitious sideways glance, appreciating her good nature. Most women would have ripped into him for his abruptness. But there again, Imogen wasn’t most people.
‘Don’t you find it strange that Stacy didn’t know where Christie or her other friends lived?’ Imogen asked.
‘Not really. I have some friends I’ve known for years, and I don’t know where they live. I’ve had no reason to visit.’
‘I know everything about everyone.’
‘Yes, but you’re interested in people, their problems, and their lives. Not everyone is like you.’
‘Even so … Stacy claimed they were her best friends. You’d have thought at least once over the years they would have had drinks at home, or that she would have collected one of them for a day out.’
‘Obviously, she likes to keep her friends compartmentalised. Some people are like that. Christie, Jenny and Kim are her Thursday night friends. She probably has others for other days of the week.’
‘It’s a strange way of behaving if you ask me. Someone could find it offensive.’ She cast him a quick glance. ‘Obviously, they have. I doubt whoever’s doing this was offended purely about her response to Nick’s accident. This is likely to have been building for years.’
‘It could still be about the meal she had arranged.’
‘It could, although I sense it’s not. What do you think?’
‘Given what happened at school, I would imagine it’s more likely related to the accident,’ he said, and turned off the main highway and headed into Christie’s estate. ‘I also agree that it was the final straw, so to speak. Do you really think Stacy’s been acting that appallingly?’
‘Not really. My friendships tend to be more open, in all departments. If I feel someone is not giving as much to the relationship as I am, I wouldn’t react negatively, I would just avoid having anything to do with them.’
‘Some people like to keep their distanc
e.’
‘You’re right, they do. And so long as they all feel the same, it works. So in answer to your question, Stacy is not acting appallingly, so long as you’re not the kind of person who expects more than she’s willing to give.’
The conversation drifted from his thoughts as he weaved through the estate, following the direction of the satellite navigator before arriving at a short row of terraced houses. Given the design and the open plan front gardens, Luke believed they had been built within the last ten years. When he scanned the numbers set upon the wall by the doors, he determined Christie’s house was the one at the end.
They exited the car, strode through the garden containing a tightly manicured lawn surrounded by a small flower border, and arrived at the door at the front of the house.
He pressed the bell. Christie was quick to appear and guided them indoors.
She was a personable woman, and got along easily with Imogen and immediately complimented her choice of outfit. As he listened to their amiable exchange, his attention drifted, his gaze wandering around the living room.
The furniture was sparse and limited to a three-piece suite and a glass cabinet with a set of drawers. There was a flat screen television on a stand near the window, a photo of her hugging a young black man, presumably her partner, and black and white pictures on the walls. One was particularly appealing, of a wrinkled woman in a happy pose. It drew a smile.
Once the pleasantries were over, he started the interview, expanding what had been a brief conversation on the phone, and mentioned the marketing fraud to which Stacy was suffering.
Christie’s body stiffened. ‘It’s unfortunate she’s suffered, but it’s nothing to do with me.’
‘We’re not accusing you,’ he said quickly, ‘we’re just trying to establish facts.’
She held a stiff expression.
‘Stacy told us about your argument.’
‘Really? Did she say I was being needy? Because that’s how she made me feel.’
‘No, she was sorry.’
‘Sorry, she hurt me, or sorry for what she did?’
Luke shuffled. It was going to be another difficult interview. Christie was obviously carrying a lot of hurt. Could it have led her to do something she wouldn’t normally have considered?
‘I wouldn’t care,’ she continued, ‘but I’d been around to her house on Sunday morning to ask about Nick. She had every opportunity to say something.’
‘You know where she lives,’ Imogen stated.
She shot her a glance. ‘Of course, I do. We’re friends.’
‘How close would you say you were?’
‘I thought we were good friends. Evidently, it’s more one-sided than I thought.’
‘Have you considered, when she arranged the meal, she might have been under stress from the accident and the break up with Nick?’
‘Of course, I have,’ Christie said. ‘But it’s still no excuse. She should never have arranged the meal without speaking to me first. I’m not suggesting I have priority over her or anything like that. It’s common courtesy, that’s all. If she had spoken to me first, I would have been right behind her, but she disregarded me entirely. That hurt. And she refused to see any wrong in what she had done.’ She shook her head, her eyes drifting. ‘Friends don’t do that to each other. She was acting selfishly. Would you behave like that?’
Imogen passed Luke a quick glimpse. ‘No, but some people act first and think later. She is sorry.’
‘In her own misguided way, she probably is.’ Christie’s gaze flitted to Luke. ‘I’m sorry. You didn’t come here to listen to me moan.’
‘It’s fine. Don’t worry.’
‘I am not responsible for what’s happening to her, but I can’t say for a second that it bothers me. The fact she’s left Nick proves the type of person she is, given his injuries and all.’
Luke was pensive. It was interesting she didn’t seem to know their separation had been Nick’s decision. Did that mean she was unaware of his affair too?
‘Christie,’ he said, drawing her attention from Imogen, ‘what exactly did she tell you about the accident?’
‘She said he was driving too quickly. That’s about it.’
‘And what about their break up?’
‘They were having problems beforehand, and said his accident would add too much stress.’
‘Did she say it was her decision?’
‘Yes.’ Christie hesitated. ‘If she didn’t, it was something she implied. I tried to persuade her to go back to him and told him he was in a rotten place. She wouldn’t listen. She’d made her mind up.’
‘Have you heard anything different elsewhere?’
‘No. I was talking to Kim about it. We were both stunned by her decision. In fact, she was thinking of popping in to see Nick during one of her regular visits to the hospital to see if she could help. I don’t think she has been there yet. She’d have told me.’
He made a quick note of her comment, and progressed the interview, asking about sandwich franchise companies, and trying to ascertain a connection. She was adamant she knew nothing, and after asking multiple questions moved on to her partner’s connection to Pickard’s, the marketing company.
‘Yes,’ she said hesitantly, ‘he works there.’
‘Was he working at the weekend?’
‘I …’ her nervous gaze shot between them. ‘I think so.’
‘Does he work in the printing department?’
‘No. Graphics. What are you implying?’
‘Nothing.’
Deciding they were not going to learn anymore, Luke made a quick decision to leave, ended the interview and thanked her for her time. Back at the car, having exchanged brief comments relating to the interview and in particular to Christie’s anger towards Stacy, they started away. Their last stop was Pickard’s marketing company.
It was a huge commercial complex on the outskirts of town. However, the printing department was easy to locate, since there were signposts outside the buildings and in the large car park. They started across, arriving moments later at a reception desk.
Luke introduced them both and asked if underhand print runs were ever carried out.
The receptionist, a young, inexperienced looking woman, cast an older man across the reception area a nervous glance. Noticing her anxiety, the man wandered across and asked them the problem. Luke reiterated his question and was told immediately and convincingly, that such things never happened.
‘Then can you tell me if there was any leaflet print off carried out just over a week ago, probably on Sunday? They relate to a sandwich franchise business. Here’s a copy.’
The man stared at the leaflet, doing his best to shroud his anxiety, and ordered his assistant away. ‘I’ve never seen this before. It’s not one of ours.’
‘Are you certain?’
Before the man had a chance to reply, the door through to the printing room opened, and someone appeared, demanding his attention. Evidently distressed, the man told them to leave, guiding them to the outer door, and then disappeared from the reception area.
Luke and Imogen remained outside the glass door.
‘What do you think?’ he asked.
Imogen reached to the handle. ‘I’m going to go back in. Wait here.’
Luke did as instructed and watched as Imogen spoke to the young receptionist, who was growing increasingly hot and flustered with each passing comment. After a few moments, Imogen headed towards him, grinning from ear to ear, and they started away.
‘She said there was an unrecorded run on Sunday. She didn’t know who it was, but said a black man.’
‘Josh Dimka?’
‘The description fits.’
Chapter 7
Relief swept through Stacy as she exited the police station having been hauled over the coals, a real grilling. Whilst they made it clear she was reporting a crime, she still felt like the accused and grew increasing tight and sweaty as the questions progressed. Mentioning Luk
e seemed to have had no impact either. In fact, she feared it had made it worse, as throughout, they continued to regard her with a suspicious eye.
She told herself to be grateful it was over and strode in the direction of her car which was parked a ten-minute walk from the city centre station. Weaving past groups of students with books bursting from bags, she replayed the interview in her mind. She needed to talk it through with someone and wondered if she should call her mother. However, deciding she had burdened her enough over the last week and a half, she sought another solution.
Calling her friends was not an option she could consider, not with this furtive hostility. Anyhow, calling them on an ad-hoc basis to pour out her troubles wasn’t something she normally did, and it made her uneasy, her stomach churned. It was curious that they had become solely her yoga friends. It hadn’t been what was originally intended, but the longer it had gone on, the harder it had been to break the hidden rules. In the past there was always Nick to share her problems. Perhaps that was the true reason for her behaviour; until now, she had needed no one else.
Arriving at the car, her sorrow swelled. Without Nick, she was nothing. She needed him in her life, and wondered, as she drove home if she should try again to amend their shattered relationship. However, when she reminded herself of their conversation, the most prominent recollection was his cheerfulness and certainty. There had been no doubt at all in his expression. He had wanted her gone.
Her heart ached, with the tension building in her gut and swelling her chest. Once upon a time, she meant everything to him; once upon a time, he would never have looked at another woman, let alone had an affair.
How could he have done something so callous? However, as she considered his motives, she was forced to consider that she may have played a part in his decision to look for love and happiness elsewhere. She had nagged him to stop throwing his clothes across the bedroom floor, and to put away his belongings that he had so frequently scattered throughout the rest of the house. She had also criticised his endlessly time-consuming hobbies and moaned about the little time the spent together, none of which were conducive to a happy relationship.