Rough Cut

by Owen Carey Jones

  “So two murders in a week is a bit unusual?”

  “I don’t know what you’re getting at but yes, yes it is.”

  “Well, what I’m wondering, is whether these two deaths could be linked? What do you think?”

  “At this stage, I really have no idea.”

  Carter thought that there was a strong possibility that the two murders were connected; it was too much of a coincidence that two people should be killed so close together in terms of both geography and time. Maybe in some localities that wouldn’t be particularly unusual but in a country backwater like Welburn in North Yorkshire, it was. Whether or not the two deaths had anything to do with his case was yet to be determined but he thought it entirely possible that Rob Darrington’s murder had something to do with it, and if it did, then the second one, the execution, might also have some bearing on it.

  As they continued on their way, Harris looked across at Carter. “Do you think these killings might have something to do with your case?”

  “Yeah, I think maybe they do,” answered Carter carefully. “It’s too soon to say for sure but I’m meeting with someone later today who might be able to throw some light on what’s going on here.”

  “I don’t suppose you’d care to tell me who?”

  “I’d rather not. For now, anyway. It’s someone I was up at Oxford with.”

  “You went to Oxford University?” The Inspector cast a glance at Carter, an expression of disbelief on his face.

  “Sure I did. Why so surprised, Inspector? Don’t you think a black man from Belize should be allowed to attend one of your oldest and best seats of learning?”

  “No, no, I didn’t mean anything like that,” protested Harris; he was not easily embarrassed but Carter’s directness had caught him by surprise. “But if you don’t mind me saying so, you don’t sound very Belizean.”

  “That’s because I lived in New York for fifteen years before moving back to Belize.” Carter was enjoying Harris’s discomfort but thought it was time he returned to the matter in hand. “About my meeting,” he said, “As soon as it looks like there might be a connection, you’ll be the first to hear about it. OK?”

  “Yes, that would be very helpful,” said Harris, “I’d like to be kept up to date with your progress. You certainly seem to have a very unusual and challenging case to crack. To be honest, if Scotland Yard hadn’t briefed us, if Chief Superintendent Lamont who, incidentally, I was at Hendon with, if he hadn’t personally vouched for you, I would have found it all just a little bit difficult to believe.”

  “Then I’m glad he did,” said Carter, “Because it’s all true and I’ll most likely need your help before it’s over.”

  “Do you get as much co-operation from the police in other countries as you do here?” asked Harris, changing the subject.

  “Oh, yeah, sure we do. Couldn’t do the job without it. Most of our cases spread across several countries. If national police forces weren’t willing to help us, we wouldn’t stand a chance.”

  When they arrived back at police headquarters, Harris parked the car and the two men got out and approached each other.

  “Thanks for your time, Inspector,” said Carter.

  “No problem,” responded Harris, “Please keep me posted and if I can be of any further help, let me know.”

  The two men shook hands before Harris gave Carter a friendly wave as he turned and walked off towards the entrance to the building. Carter waved back, pleased to have made contact with Harris; the man seemed personable and more than usually helpful.

  _________________________

  As he drove back to his hotel, Carter wondered how this, his latest case, was going to turn out. He enjoyed working on complex problems, probably a spin-off of his time at Oxford, and although he had been keen to carry on working on his latest book, once he had discovered the connection to Nicole, someone who he hadn’t seen for more than twenty-five years, someone who at one time he had thought might be his life-long companion, there was never the slightest chance of him refusing the case. Now that he was finally about to meet her again, he was excited but he was also apprehensive, even a little bit scared of how it would go. He had no idea what to expect after so many years and his thoughts took him back to his time in Oxford.

  When he had met Nicole, she had been in the final year of her French Literature degree and he had been studying for a Masters in Geology. He had been older than her but only by a couple of years. They had met at an Oxford Union party and he smiled as he recalled that night. She had been impressed by his natural rhythm as he danced to the music and had told him so from the security of a group of girls with whom she was dancing.

  “It comes with being from the Caribbean,” he had said donning his best smile as she split off from dancing with her friends to dance with him.

  “Where in the Caribbean?” she had asked as she gyrated to the music, clearly interested in him.

  “Belize.”

  “Belize! Where the hell is Belize?”

  “Just below Mexico.”

  They danced on for a couple of songs before Carter concluded that he was making progress with this girl and wanted to know more about her.

  “What’s your name,” he asked.

  “Nicole. Nikki to my friends.”

  “So, can I call you Nikki?”

  “What? Are you asking for my phone number already?”

  They both laughed at Nicole’s joke and continued dancing until the music stopped as the DJ changed.

  “Can I get you a drink?” asked Carter.

  “Sure, I’ll come to the bar with you.”

  “I was thinking we could maybe go somewhere a bit quieter?” he ventured and waited for Nicole to respond. She just smiled shyly so he pressed on. “I’d like to get to know you a bit better.” Nicole nodded her agreement to the change of venue and, emboldened by this, Carter took her hand and led her out of the room as the music started up again.

  They went to a nearby pub and talked. They talked and talked and talked, until the barman called time and they had to leave. When they did, Carter insisted on walking Nicole back to her college. At the gate he kissed her gently and then they exchanged phone numbers and agreed to call each other the next day.

  Carter smiled as he recalled his walk home that night. There had been a spring in his step like never before and on a couple of occasions, he had jumped in the air and let out a loud “YES!” as he punched the air.

  And then, after seven months and four days, it had ended. He had become aware that Nicole’s father was not happy about their relationship. On the one brief occasion when he had met him, Philippe had made it quite clear what he thought of Carter’s suitability as a potential son-in-law and Carter knew that he had given Nicole a lot of grief about it, to the point of threatening to pull her out of Oxford and take her back to the South of France where he could keep an eye on her. But Carter had not expected what happened that day.

  Nicole had telephoned him and asked him to meet her by the river in the gardens of Christ Church College. When he had arrived, she had been standing looking across the river, clearly deep in thought. She turned to face him as he walked up beside her and put his arm round her waist, and he saw a tear trickle down her cheek.

  “What is it?” he asked, concerned that she was upset about something, “What’s wrong?”

  Nicole looked down at her feet for a few moments before speaking. When she did speak, all she said was, “I’m sorry, Carter,” and shook her head sadly unable to look at him.

  He took her in his arms. She didn’t need to say more. Carter knew what had happened. She rested her head on his chest for a few moments and then pulled away a little from him.

  “It’s OK,” he said, “I understand.”

  Nicole burst into tears at this, her face contorting as she did and she looked up at him.

  “It is NOT OK!” she shouted angrily. “Who the fuck does he think he is?”

  “He thinks he’s your father, Nikki. And
he thinks he’s looking out for your interests.”

  ”Oh, no, no, no, it’s not that! No way! The only person he is thinking about is himself. He wants me to go home and marry some nice little Frenchman that he approves of, that’s what he wants.”

  She turned away and Carter sighed. “Yeah, maybe. Either way, I guess it’s over between us?”

  Nicole turned back to look at him, her agony written all over her face. “For now, Carter. Just for now. I want to finish my course and graduate. But I love you and I’m not going to let him beat me on this. Once I’ve graduated, he won’t be able to dictate to me who I can and can’t see.”

  “You serious?” asked Carter, his spirits lifting a little.

  Nicole nodded emphatically, her lips set in grim determination. “ It’s only a few months. Will you wait for me?”

  “Why can’t we carry on seeing each other and just keep it to ourselves?”

  “Because he’d find out about it, he’s good at that, and I’d be back in Sainte Maxime before I knew it.” Nicole looked at Carter, wishing there was some other way. “And he’s my father. I don’t want to have to lie to him about it.” She looked at him appealingly and asked the question again. “Will you wait for me?”

  Carter smiled. “You need to ask?”

  But it had been the end of their relationship. A couple months had passed with Carter getting updates from mutual friends to the effect that Nicole wasn’t seeing anyone and then, three months after they had broken up, she had met Andrew, and that had been that.

  Now, twenty-five years later, as Carter was driving the last few yards to his hotel and parking his car in the car park, Nicole was sitting in the hotel lounge, nervously wrapping a paper napkin round her fingers as she waited for him to arrive. She wondered if she had made the right decision about seeing him but Nicole’s hesitance owed more to shock than any reluctance to meet Carter. More than a quarter of a century earlier, she had been in love with him, passionately so. But did she want to see him again now? After all the time that had passed, and after all that had gone on between them? She wasn’t sure. And his timing was awful. Coming so soon after Rob’s death, she was struggling to come to terms with the memories she and Carter shared, memories which were flooding back as she waited for him to arrive. They had been so close, so very much in love and then, because of her father’s strong opposition to the relationship, because Carter was not French and, worse still, he was black, they had broken up.

  Despite the passage of the years, Nicole was still a good looking woman, she knew that, but she was over forty years old now and she also knew that time was always kinder to men than to women. He would be older too but with him it would probably mean that he had become more attractive, not less. He would probably look very distinguished, with some grey hair and the lines which the years had drawn on his face would give it character and depth. She had a picture in her mind’s eye of how he would look but she couldn’t help wondering if he would live up to it. When he had telephoned her from Belize, he hadn’t sounded so very different, even though his Caribbean accent had been largely superseded by an American one. When he had asked her if she wanted to meet, it could have been the Carter of long ago speaking to her.

  Nicole’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Carter’s voice at the bar. Her heart missed a beat and she got up from her chair.

  “I’m supposed to be meeting someone here at twelve o’clock,” he said to the barman, “Her name is Nicole Darrington.”

  By this time, Nicole had reached the bar.

  “Would this be the lady?” asked the barman, indicating to Carter that there was someone standing behind him.

  Carter swung round to face Nicole and his lined face broke into a wide smile, his white teeth gleaming the welcome she had hoped for.

  “Nikki!” He just said her name, the shortened version he had always used when they had been together, and wrapped her in his long arms. Her knees buckled and she hung there. After a few moments, she regained her feet and Carter let go of her. He stood back a pace, the better to look at her, before speaking.

  “Sorry!” he said. “It’s just so good to see you.”

  “You too,” said Nicole, and she meant it. Seeing him, holding him, hearing him were everything she had expected, and more. She was beaming too and just a little flushed.

  “Have you got a drink?” asked Carter.

  “Yes, it’s over there.”

  “Then let’s sit down. We’ve got a lot to catch up on.” Carter asked the barman to bring him a Budweiser and followed Nicole to the table where she had been waiting for him.

  “It’s been a long time, Nikki, too long.”

  “I know. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

  The silence was tangible as they both looked at each other. Awkwardly, Carter broke the silence.

  “I was sorry to hear about Andrew, even if he did steal you away from me all those years ago.” Carter smiled briefly and then looked at Nicole, pity in his eyes, as he continued, “But the news about Rob… well…”

  Nicole’s face darkened and she looked down at her hands which were resting in her lap. Carter looked at her and his heart went out to her.

  “What can I say,” he said, “You must be devastated?” Nicole nodded and looked away, tears in her eyes. Then, after a few moments, she looked back at Carter. She managed a smile but it was a thin smile.

  The barman brought Carter’s drink to the table and disappeared quickly. As Carter lifted his glass and drank from it, Nicole took a deep breath and looked at him, the smile was gone and there were tears in her eyes as she spoke.

  “He was a wonderful boy, you know.”

  “How could he have been anything else. He had a wonderful mother.”

  Nicole pulled a photograph of her children from her handbag and passed it to Carter. “That’s a picture of him, with Eloise, his sister.”

  “She takes after her mother, too. She’s beautiful.”

  Carter handed back the picture and Nicole replaced it carefully in her handbag. Then she took out a handkerchief and wiped her eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head sadly.

  “It’s OK, don’t worry,” soothed Carter as Nicole dabbed at her eyes again with the handkerchief.

  She sniffed and smiled as she looked at him. “So what brings you to England, then?” she asked, changing the subject.

  “Two things. One reason I’m here is to promote my book…” Nicole’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open as she interrupted him.

  “Your book!” she said, “Since when did you become a writer? I always had to help you with your essays. Your English was appalling! Even worse than mine!”

  “I know,” smiled Carter recalling the days when his command of English had lacked the sophistication demanded by Oxford professors, “It started after I quit track.”

  “I always followed your running career, you know. Right up until you announced your retirement. I was so proud of you when you won the gold in Barcelona. But I didn’t know you’d taken to writing books.” Nicole lifted her glass to her mouth and waited for Carter to respond.

  “No reason why you should,” he said, “Apart from a couple of academic tomes of interest only to hardened geologists, the only thing I’ve written before this, my first novel, is my autobiography.”

  Nicole spluttered into her drink and an involuntary laugh escaped from her mouth. “You’re kidding!” she exclaimed.

  “Hey! They made me do it! OK,” protested Carter, “But it didn’t sell too well, not here or in the States.”

  Nicole looked at Carter, who smiled at her. She thought for a moment and then picked up her glass. As she drank from the glass, she looked at Carter over the top of it. Then she put the glass down and dropped her eyes as she spoke.

  “Am I in it?” she asked, her voice now quiet, almost casual in tone.

  “Should you be?” responded Carter non-committally, playing along.

  Nicole shrugged a
nd picked up her glass again. She was trying hard not to appear too interested, one way or the other, and Carter grinned.

  “Well, you can find out for yourself,” he said. “I brought you a copy.”

  Carter reached into his bag and pulled out a hard backed book with a picture of him running on the dust cover. He handed the book to Nicole. She took it from him and lovingly passed her hand over the picture of Carter.

  “Look inside, I’ve signed it for you,” he said.

  Nicole opened the book and turned to the first page. Her eyes filled with tears as she read what was there. She looked up at him and shook her head slowly.

  “Oh, Carter,” she said as the tears ran freely down her cheeks.

  Inside the book, Carter had signed ‘With all my love for ever, Carter’ but it wasn’t this inscription which had caught her so off guard, it was the printed dedication which simply read:

  for nikki

  the only girl i ever loved

  “What does your wife think of that?” she asked when she had regained her composure, “Must have shaken her a bit.”

  “I’m not married, Nikki,” he said, “Never have been. How could I be? The only girl I ever wanted to marry went and married someone else.” Nicole looked away as the tears returned. She wiped her eyes quickly with her hand and turned back to Carter.

  “Carter, I can’t have lunch with you now, not after this,” she said, looking at him and shaking her head gently. “It would be too… difficult.”

  Nicole got up from her chair to leave but Carter reached out and gripped her hand.

  “I understand,” he said. “Truly, I do! But please, you must stay. There’s more.”

  Nicole resisted for a moment and then sat down again. “What? What more can there be?”

  “Nikki,” Carter looked at her uneasily. “You remember I said I had two reasons for being here?”

  “Yes,” replied Nicole as Carter looked at her, wondering how to bring up the second reason for his trip without destroying her. He would have preferred not to talk about it but he didn’t see how he could avoid it. He decided to press on.

  “Well,” he said, ”I think the second reason may have something to do with Rob’s death.”