02 Heller's Revenge - Heller

by JD Nixon

  I turned my attention back to him and smiled. “Of course I remember! We were both waiting to order a drink. I was with Dixie. I remember thinking how cute you were and then you smiled at me. Well, I was hooked after that.”

  “But you didn’t ring me for ages,” he complained. “I was so disappointed. Every day I’d wake up and think maybe she will today. I would have rung you the next day, but you didn’t give me your number.”

  “Things kept happening. I’d get to the end of the day and think I didn’t ring Will. But it doesn’t matter because I did ring you in the end.”

  “One of the happiest days of my life. I hope I’m going to have another one very soon.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Tilly, after our talk the other week about our relationship, I realised just how much I love you. Now that we’re exclusive, I want to be with you all of the time. For the rest of my life. I know we haven’t been together for even a year yet, but I’ve thought about this a lot and it feels like the right thing to do now. I’ve never hidden the fact that I want to settle down and start a –”

  He halted suddenly, flushing. I pretended I hadn’t heard his faux pas, not exactly sure where he was going with the conversation.

  “Would you . . .” He swallowed and took a deep breath. “Tilly, would you marry me?”

  ~~~~~~

  Weeks later, Will and I stood hand-in-hand in front of the city’s marriage registry office. He squeezed my hand tightly and gave me an encouraging smile as we walked up the steps towards the glass doors of the entry. He opened the door and ushered me in ahead of him. I was pleasantly surprised to discover a modern, tastefully decorated reception area, a beautiful fresh arrangement of pristine white lilies gracing a side table. For some reason I’d imagined the registry office would be bureaucratically bland and formal, like a courtroom.

  There were two ceremony rooms, and we headed for the smallest one. To be honest, I was quite nervous about the wedding, even though I was well aware it was going to be a small ceremony, only a few close friends and family invited to witness the nuptials. The ceremony would be followed by a swanky lunch at one of the city’s top restaurants. I was looking forward to letting my hair down then, relaxing and savouring a few glasses of champagne after the formalities were done.

  Before we entered the ceremony room, Will stopped and looked at me, his soft brown eyes serious. He had tried valiantly that morning to tame his hair, but the irrepressible curls were beginning to poke up again.

  “I love you, Tilly. You look so beautiful today. Just perfect,” he said, leaning forward to kiss me on the lips. It was a warm day for winter, and I wore a gossamer sleeveless summer dress that floated delicately around my hips and legs. I accessorised with a small, matching hat to add a slightly formal note to my outfit. I put my hand up to his cheek and kissed him back.

  “I love you too, Will.” He squeezed my hand again, and we opened the door to the ceremony room.

  The groom was already present, pacing up and down anxiously. He noticed our arrival, and I was astonished by the welcoming look of delight that suffused his face. We hadn’t exactly parted on the best of terms, and I was surprised to say the least by his warm greeting. But not as surprised as I’d been to receive the wedding invitation in the first place.

  “Tilly!” he exclaimed, rushing forward to grasp my hand, kissing me on both cheeks.

  “Clarrie,” I replied with far less enthusiasm, looking down at him, trying to ignore the furtive glance he shot my boobs. God, even on his wedding day he was still a little creep! He was dressed formally in a three-piece suit, and his floppy blond hair had grown a little longer since I’d last seen him about six months ago, but other than that he still looked the same. Same wispy goatee and moustache, same round wide blue eyes, same short-arse stature, and still looking as though he wasn’t old enough to shave, let alone ruin a woman’s life by marrying her.

  “And the blushing bride is on her way?” I enquired politely.

  “Yes, Kitty rang this morning. She’s very excited and will be here in a few minutes, I hope.”

  “Clarrie, let me introduce my boyfriend, Will Armstrong. Will, this is Clarrie Cockburn.”

  They shook hands. Clarrie leaned towards me, and while stealing a look down my cleavage (which wasn’t easy for him to do as I was taller than him), whispered in an indiscreet voice that I’m sure the whole room could hear, “I thought Heller was your boyfriend.”

  I stared at him in disbelief. “No, Clarrie. As I’m sure I told you a thousand times, Heller is just my boss. Will is my boyfriend.”

  I could have kicked Clarrie for bringing Heller up right then, knowing how sensitive Will was about the whole matter of my undefinable relationship with him. Luckily for me, another man approaching us distracted everyone from that taboo topic.

  “Tilly, how wonderful to see you again! I’ve really been looking forward to it. Just ask Clarrie.” He tried to kiss me on the mouth in an over-enthusiastic manner, but I turned my head rapidly at the last second as he bore down on me. “Gee, you look good.”

  “Lovely to see you again too, Milt,” I lied. “And can I say how nice it is to see you here at Clarrie’s wedding. Let me introduce my boyfriend, Will.” And I made the introductions.

  Milt’s face drooped with disappointment on meeting Will and he shook hands half-heartedly. Again, I was surprised by his eagerness to see me, considering last time I saw him I almost ruined his chances of ever having children. I still had those photos of Clarrie and him tied to chairs and I liked to look at them now and then just for a laugh.

  “Of course I’m at the wedding! I’m Clarrie’s best man,” he informed me proudly and despite despising both of them, I found that quite touching.

  Frankly, I was stunned to find how the passage of time had softened their mutual loathing of me. Heller had predicted that would happen and that the men would begin to reminisce fondly of our time together, but I hadn’t believed him. Looks like he was right. Yet again. I firmly pushed all thoughts of Heller from my brain. I had promised myself that today I would concentrate solely on Will. God knows, we barely saw each other as it was, even though I had promised to see him more often, so I didn’t want to waste a second of his company thinking about Heller. We shook hands with the celebrant and sat down in the guest area, smiled at the few elderly people in attendance, obviously Clarrie’s and Kitty’s relatives, and held hands tightly, waiting for the ceremony to begin.

  “Hopefully it will be us here one day,” Will whispered in my ear. I gave him a non-committed but guilt-ridden smile.

  When he had asked me to marry him, I hadn’t known what to say. I had just stared at him, speechless, until the whole situation grew very awkward and he realised I wasn’t going to say yes. I think I broke his heart that day, although I didn’t mean to. He had really taken me by surprise. Who expects someone to propose to them when you haven’t even been together for a year?

  It had been the most perfect proposal too – everything I had ever dreamed about. In another life, I wouldn’t have hesitated and would have snapped him up like the catch that he was. But in my life, my reality, it was impossible for me to marry Will. I had responsibilities and a life apart from him that I wasn’t willing to relinquish, no matter my feelings for him. To cover the uncomfortable and tense situation created my failure to accept his proposal, I’d suggested that he ask me again once Niq turned eighteen. And being an optimistic person in general, he clung to the hope that we could be permanently together in a few years time. But I had my own doubts that he would be willing to wait that long for me, especially knowing now that he’d already been screwing around. But I also doubted that I would be ready to leave my life for him at that point anyway.

  There was a small commotion at the door and we all stood up, turning our heads in that direction. Kitty’s little daughter was supposed to act as the flower girl, but shyly and hesitantly poked her head through the door before sprinting down the aisle and hiding behind Cl
arrie’s legs. We all tittered with laughter. Kitty then arrived on the arm of her father. Or to be more precise, Kitty’s distended and obviously knocked-up stomach arrived before the both of them. I had mixed emotions at the sight. I was flabbergasted that Clarrie had been able to muster up enough sperm to impregnate a woman, and I was also frankly appalled at the thought of Clarrie spawning. God help the world!

  Kitty was beautiful in white and cried copiously throughout the brief ceremony. Clarrie screwed up his vows, at one point promising to love and honour himself.

  “Is that what they call it these days?” I whispered to Will, who snorted with smothered laughter that drew disapproving glances from the oldies.

  And then it was all over and there was a flurry of paper signing, backslapping, hand shaking and air kissing. I gave Kitty a genuine, and careful, hug of congratulations. She was radiant, and I had absolutely no idea what she saw in Clarrie, but on behalf of all of the single women in the world, I blessed her for taking him out of the dating pool.

  Lunch at the top-notch restaurant was delicious and I made sure I drank more than my fair share of champagne. I stared at Will lustfully, rubbing his thigh under the table and anticipating our afternoon together, when the speeches commenced. We both turned towards the speaker to listen politely, but under the table I tiptoed my fingers up Will’s thigh. He shot me an amused warning glance and shook his head at me. I smiled evilly and confined myself again to rubbing his thigh, higher and higher, until he started squirming in his seat with pleasurable discomfort. He grabbed my hand and held it tightly. I pouted briefly, but behaved myself for the rest of the speeches.

  Clarrie gave a good speech, heartfelt and reasonably amusing. He had a confident and pleasant public persona. He was clearly just a tosser in private. Surprisingly he gave warm thanks to me for being the person responsible for Kitty and him meeting in the first place. But for obvious reasons, he totally glossed over the fact that she had been a hooker. Pretty Woman, eat your heart out! I’d always secretly suspected that Kitty was the first woman Clarrie had ever shagged and probably would be the only woman, considering his personality and table manners. Like I said before, God bless Kitty for taking one for the team.

  We eventually farewelled the happy couple, who were due to fly home to California the next day, and made our way back to Will’s house. He had barely shut the front door before I jumped him, and we didn’t even make it into his bedroom, but ended up on his lounge, frantically coupling, lips, tongues and hands everywhere, our clothing discarded with abandon, my dress hanging from the ceiling fan, his shirt flung over the TV. When it was over, we lay on the sofa facing each other, bodies entwined.

  “We never get to spend enough time together,” he complained. “All we get time for is sex.”

  “I’ve never heard of a man complaining about that before,” I replied lightly. I wasn’t in the mood for rehashing that old argument yet again. He was right though. All we ever seemed to have time for was some quick shagging before I had to go to work or get home. And I know I’d promised to spend more time with him, but it didn’t seem to be working out. The nature of my work and my life just meant that I couldn’t, and more importantly, didn’t want to change anything about either.

  I faintly heard the beeping warning of an incoming text message on my phone. I padded over to my handbag, once I had found it where it had been kicked under a chair, and read the message.

  “Party’s over, lover boy. Gotta go.”

  I kissed Will and dressed quickly, pulling on my shoes when a car horn tooted from outside. I gave him a wave, ignoring his disappointed face and left, climbing into Heller’s vehicle waiting out the front of the house.

  Chapter 28

  Months later, I looked at myself in the mirror, adjusting my sombre charcoal skirt suit and rose-coloured button-up shirt. I had my hair up, wearing low sensible heels and discreet makeup and jewellery. It was time for me to testify in court against Meili’s murderer and I was as nervous as hell, never having appeared in court before. I was the prosecution’s star witness and had been warned by the Crown prosecution team that I might be on the stand for more than one day giving my testimony and facing any cross-examination by the defence.

  Heller waited patiently for me to finish my last minute tweaks to my appearance and held my hand down the stairs to his vehicle where Daniel joined us. I appreciated them accompanying me to court and Daniel’s promise to stay with me the entire time. Heller had been called up as a witness himself, but wasn’t expecting to be on the stand for a few days. He would conduct some business in the CBD during the day, not allowed into the courtroom until it was his turn to testify.

  I’d been extensively coached by a number of people about what to expect on the stand, including the Crown prosecution staff, Brian, and Heller’s own lawyer, Corby. So at least I didn’t feel completely unprepared for my forthcoming ordeal. I’d made sure that I had an adequate supply of tissues in my handbag for any unexpected waterworks while on the stand. Daniel solemnly showed me that he had thoughtfully placed a hankie in each pocket of his trousers and one in his jacket as well, which made me giggle despite my nerves.

  There had been much surprise and pointed comment about the defence team employed by the defendant. They were one of the city’s more expensive law firms and clearly out of the financial reach of the accused murderer, whose occupation was listed as unemployed. Dark mutterings were heard about the deep pockets of those who were silently supporting him, probably the same bastards who had hired him to murder Meili in the first place. But nobody knew who ‘they’ were for certain, although most suspicion fell on an international mining company that wished to commence coal mining in a heritage-listed rainforest area. Meili had been influential in forcing the government to hold an environmental enquiry into the proposal before it was approved. He’d been concerned about the fate of an endangered species of frog, which inhabited a swamp that would be subsumed by the open cut mine. The company had already invested millions in the project, assuming it was a done deal as promises had been extracted from politicians and money had exchanged hands. Without Meili around to keep pressuring the government through publicity, the enquiry was quietly shelved and the proposal had turned into reality. Quite the motive for murder, when you thought about it. Billions of dollars would be earned by that particular company over the life of that mine. And that was the price of Meili’s life, I thought sadly to myself, not to mention the fate of the endangered frog species that was predictably wiped out because of the mine.

  I took to the stand, ignoring the cold, hard face of the accused. Instead I peered up into the public gallery, finding Daniel and taking comfort from his supportive smile and presence. I let my eyes roam over the rest of the gallery, arrested when I noticed a group of people sitting at the front – three men and a woman. They had to be Meili’s family, the resemblance to him was so strong and I assumed I was looking at his mother, father and two brothers. Four pairs of lovely light gray eyes regarded me with curiosity. I would introduce myself to them after I was finished testifying, to give them my personal condolences for their great loss.

  I was sworn in and managed to survive a long day of testimony, being gently questioned over my reason for being with Meili and taken through the events leading up to his murder. The prosecutor spent quite a lot of time going over the boat explosion. I was emotionally exhausted by the end of the day and very glad when the judge adjourned the court and ordered everyone to return the following morning at ten.

  Heller met us outside the courthouse. He insisted on taking me to his flat and made me dinner that night. Daniel and Niq joined us and they did their best to cheer me up and help me forget what was in store for me the following day. I stayed that night with Heller in his bed, dropping off to sleep immediately, drained with fatigue.

  Back in court the next day, I was led through the morning of Meili’s murder, those few awful minutes and the aftermath. The jury was shown the photos I’d taken of Meili that day, and I
explained why I had been taking so many photos of him. I smiled sadly to see him hugging the tree again because it was such a joyous photo. His family, and more than a few of the jury, smiled as well when I told them why he was embarrassing himself in such a way. Then the series of photos I’d taken of him doing up his shoelace were shown and you’d have to be blind or bribed not to notice that the ‘jogger’ holding a gun approaching Meili in the photos was the same man that was sitting in the courtroom, pretending to be innocent. I was proud that I only went through a few tissues as I gave my testimony that day.

  The prosecution team led me through my chase of the murderer and my harvesting of his DNA, promising the jury that there would be scientific evidence about that later. The prosecution finally finished with me and after a short lunch break, it was time for the cross-examination. I received a quick pep-talk from the prosecutor before I was back on the stand again. The defence team’s whole argument seemed to be that, yes, their client was the man I had chased and captured the DNA from, because there was no arguing with science. But they stated that he was merely an opportunistic bag snatcher and not the man who had murdered Meili – a victim of mistaken identity by an understandably distraught woman who had just seen a friend being murdered. It was a clever defence because it didn’t try to paint their client as an angel, just a lesser kind of criminal.

  It may have even worked if it hadn’t been for those photographs I’d taken and the testimony of two other reliable witnesses, who backed up my version of events. I had been expecting to be grilled and tortured on the stand by the defence, but it was a fairly half-hearted attempt at cross-examination. I’d steeled myself for some character assassination, secretly terrified that they would find out and expose what Meili and I had been up to, or even that I had been staying with him, but they didn’t. I got off very lightly I thought, and then my time on the stand was over.