by P. Wish
“There were defensive wounds on Mr. Greene’s arms. These were inflicted during the struggle between him and the other person. As Mr. Greene was about to stab him, his killer acted in self-defense by holding him and strangling him. Mr. Greene tried to fight back but the killer had a stronger build and succeeded in strangling him before shoving his face in to drown out his cries.”
Mrs. Wolverhampton flinched. Jane’s eyes moved towards Oliver. Mrs. Maeda looked at the floor, a blank expression on her face.
“Who could’ve done something so horrible?”
“Somebody who had a lot to lose if the truth ever came out.”
“Truth?”
“What about the pills? You said he was taking pills for depression,” Mr. McEwan said.
“They weren’t his. I admit, they threw me off in the beginning but it was nothing more than a part of the setting.”
“You never said anything about us being suspects,” Mrs. Wolverhampton said.
“In the beginning, I’ll confess, I thought it was you,” Detective Myers said. “You had the diary and you knew about the witness. You also had access to the keys.”
“Are you accusing me—”
“No. Though you have the diary, I don’t think you killed Robert. Whoever Greene’s killer was, he killed Robert. Or, I should say, pushed him into the water so that he drowned.”
Mr. McEwan blinked.
“Robert’s death was an accident. Or so it seems from what the witness said. When Robert’s killer met Robert that night, he was on his way home. He thought it was a quick conversation, but only after he got there did he realize what was happening. Being young and not having expected the situation, when Robert confessed, Oliver either got rattled and pushed him, or he pushed him as a joke. Either way, he didn’t know that Robert couldn’t swim. Very few people do. When he heard a sound, which was the witness running away, Robert’s killer also ran away, startled. He only realized three weeks later that Robert was dead.”
“And what of the diary?”
“The diary wasn’t supposed to be the pivotal thing it became. Robert had written about his planned meeting with Oliver before the spring break. He gave his diary to Mrs. Wolverhampton to read because she was his English teacher. It was meant to be a sign of his coming out of the closet and admitting his feelings publicly. That’s why he wanted her to read it.”
He looked at the clock. Ten more minutes before his colleagues arrived. He needed to buy time. Detective Myers turned to Mrs. Wolverhampton.
“I’m curious about what Robert wrote in the diary,” he said instead. “Would you like to share that information?”
“I…” Mrs. Wolverhampton inhaled.
“How did you feel when you read the diary?” Jane asked.
Mrs. Wolverhampton didn’t say anything.
“Let me make this easier for you,” Detective Myers said. “Upon reading the diary, you realized that the person Robert met that night was one of the students. When you came back, you realized that Robert had drowned that night. Being a teacher, you had a duty to protect the students. So, by choosing to protect one, you had to let go of the other. And, in this case, it was Robert.”
Mrs. Wolverhampton was silent. She took a deep breath before talking.
“Robert was a talented writer, but the diary…it was heartbreaking. I never realized the extent of his suffering until I read his diary. The first time I read it, I couldn’t think straight. I wanted to go out and reveal everything. But I understood why he had kept it a secret. I was also proud of him for having the courage give it to me.”
“What secret?”
“The better question would be, why did Robert go to the lake that night? Who was it that he wanted to meet?” Detective Myers asked. He turned to Mrs. Wolverhampton, who didn’t make eye contact.
“Robert…Robert was in love. He had developed feelings for one of the students.”
“What?” Mr. McEwan was surprised. “I never knew…”
“It was a boy. He liked a boy,” Mrs. Wolverhampton said. Mr. McEwan froze. “I must confess, I was shocked when I first read about it. We’re a Catholic school, I hope you realize that. However, I knew how difficult it had been for Robert to write his entire story so I decided not to judge him. After reading the diary, I realized that was the reason he was depressed. He was fighting his attraction. He didn’t know why he felt that way. He questioned his identity, his sanity and his sexuality. And, he had nobody to talk to. So, he wrote it down.”
“Jesus,” Mr. McEwan said. His hands covered his mouth.
“Robert was gay,” Jane explained. “It’s normal and more acceptable now, but five years ago, things were different. To a fifteen-year-old, the world can seem like a terrifying place. Robert was already bullied for being different and this realization intensified his internal conflict. St. Anne’s is a conservative Catholic school and Robert was raised Catholic. To a fifteen-year-old, those feelings are alien. He was trying to make sense of his feelings while trying to find his identity in this world. He was living in denial. Confusion over sexual identity is unfortunately one of the common reasons for depression in teenagers.”
“But why did he go to the lake?”
“There’s a legend among the students that anybody who confesses at the lake is accepted. According to the girls in my class, if you confess after sunset, it gives you a one hundred percent success rate. It’s another of those silly stories that goes around school but again, you can’t blame students for falling prey to it. To us, it’s just a senseless myth, but to Robert, it was a source of hope. His future was riding on that idea. He hadn’t come out to his parents. He wanted to wait until his feelings were accepted. That’s why Robert chose the lake,” Jane said. “It took a lot of courage for him to get to a point where he could talk about his feelings.”
“Is that…true?” Mrs. Maeda turned to Mrs. Wolverhampton, who nodded weakly. Mrs. Maeda exhaled. “I never expected—”
“The reason Robert was out that night was because he wanted to confess his feelings. Now, that brings us to the next question. Who was it that Robert met?”
Silence prevailed.
“It was somebody Robert admired from a distance. He began to question his sexuality after he started feeling attracted to this person. He must’ve written about it in his diary,” Detective Myers said, turning to Mrs. Wolverhampton. She nodded.
“Every word was written with gut-wrenching honesty,” Mrs. Wolverhampton said. “I…I cried a couple of times. I wish I had known what he was going through. And now, I wish I’d done the right thing and let his story be known.”
“Why did you tear the pages?”
“They contained the name of the student whom Robert met that night. I initially tore the pages thinking that I would destroy them but in the end, I couldn’t bring myself to do that. So, I just kept it around my room, reminding me of my sin every single day.”
“Did you know the diary had disappeared?”
“I realized it after a while. I kept it around my office because it seemed safer that way. My drawers are locked and nobody touches the stuff without my permission. I only realized a year ago that it had disappeared. Once I locked it in there, I never looked at it again. I wanted to forget about it.”
“Did you try to find it?”
“Yes but I didn’t know who could’ve taken it. After two or three months, I gave up.”
“The person he met that night was leaving home for Easter soon after their meeting. He called him to the lake. When he got there, Robert told him about his feelings. Our witness, who was out that night, saw the event. He said there was a moment of silence after Robert stopped speaking. Then, the other person pushed him into the water. It was an instinctive reaction. The other person was flustered. When Robert fell into the lake and caused a loud splash, he panicked and left. The witness also left because he heard footsteps and thought it was one of the teachers. It was actually Mr. McEwan, who had been drinking that night and was on his way to the dorm. When he got t
o the dorm, he said, he saw someone come in. It was the witness.”
“The witness knew Robert was dead?”
“Not at that point. Nobody knew that Robert couldn’t swim. It was an unfortunate event.”
“So, this witness didn’t say anything to the detective?”
“No. He was afraid the killer would find him,” Jane said.
“Who was it? Who pushed Robert?” Mr. McEwan asked. Detective Myers glanced at the clock. The time was right—finally.
“The person who pushed Robert, killed Mr. Greene to cover it up, and hid all of that is among us today.”
At this point, there was only one answer.
“Oliver Sharpe.”
Nobody reacted for a second. Mr. McEwan’s knees buckled and he sank to the floor, his face masked with shock. His fingers grabbed the carpet as his eyes turned misty. Mrs. Wolverhampton gulped and looked away.
“The person who pushed Robert and stabbed Mr. Greene was Oliver Sharpe. Yesterday, the technology team contacted me with the name of the person whom the phone number previously belonged to. It was Oliver. The person Mr. Greene had been sending those messages to was Mr. Sharpe. Mr. Sharpe called him that afternoon, asking to meet.”
Jane’s eyes moved to Oliver. He was silent. She expected him to react first, but he stood next to the wall like a statue. Detective Myers shut up and turned to him.
“Is there anything you’d like to say?” he asked, his raspy voice low.
Oliver was still silent. The clock ticked loudly. Jane waited for him to speak.
“What difference does it make now?” he asked. He sounded fragile and helpless. His eyes wavered and his jaw quivered. His response shocked Jane.
He was handling this exceptionally well. Mrs. Wolverhampton exhaled, each one of those sixty-two years showing on her face. She looked at Oliver.
“You’re right,” he said, his voice low. He lifted his head and his eyes met Jane’s. “It happened just like you described. Five years ago, Robert said he wanted to meet me. I didn’t know him very well but I’d seen him at the library a few times. I thought he wanted to return a book or something so I went to the lake two hours before my train back home was scheduled. What happened next was completely unexpected. I…I couldn’t accept what he said. He crushed my religion, my experience and my perception with his three words. ‘I love you.’ That’s what he said. And he looked into my eyes. And I knew what he meant. Suddenly, the lake and the night made sense.”
“Mr. Sharpe—this could be used—”
“I don’t care,” he said. “It’s over. I was wrong.”
“Oliver…”
“He wasn’t supposed to have these feelings for me. I didn’t know what to do. I’d never thought of him that way. So, I panicked and pushed him into the lake. Then suddenly, I heard a splash. I saw shadows move near the dorm. Somebody was nearby, so I ran away. My heartbeat was violent all the way to the train station. His words rang in my mind again and again. I was trying to deny what happened. I never thought he’d die.
“When I came back, I was still in a state of denial. That’s when I discovered that he had died. They found his body floating in the lake.” Oliver paused to breathe. His eyes turned misty. “I…I had no idea he couldn’t swim. I was mortally scared. I had a bright future ahead of me. I had been accepted into Cambridge and I didn’t want to let the opportunity go. Luckily, his diary was never found and the detective closed the case a week later. I didn’t even know if existed. But my life would never be the same again. I developed PTSD because of what happened that night. I’ve been on medication ever since. It lessened two years ago, but then I began getting the text messages. Somebody knew my secret. And it began all over again. Only this time, I had much more to lose.”
He cleared his throat. His eyes filled up. “I knew I had to kill him. Whoever was threatening me needed to be got rid of. I tried other ways to get him to shut up, but he said he’d send a letter to the school management detailing the events of the past. He had proof. So, after two years of being a victim, I decided to take him down. He had messaged me about meeting on the anniversary of Robert’s death, and I agreed. I was prepared.”
“Prepared?”
“As soon as I saw a shadow near the lake that night, I pushed him into the water. I only saw his back. The only person who’d be at the lake that night was the stalker. I had come mentally prepared. But nothing could’ve prepared me for Mr. Greene. I had no idea that he was Robert’s father. He struggled, but his screams died after a moment. I took the train back home the next morning. It wasn’t until school reopened that I found out who the stalker was.”
“Did you know he was Robert’s father?”
“I figured that out eventually.”
“And?”
“I’ve been living in hell these past few weeks. I’ve killed two innocent people. I can’t sleep. I can’t even look at myself in the mirror anymore.”
Oliver’s knees gave in and he sank to the floor. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I wanted to take this job. I came back here so that I could bury any evidence that pointed to me. I wanted to find the diary but I didn’t know where it was. He had it. And I knew that.”
Oliver calmed down a bit and continued, “My mother…she’s sick. This job is the only way I can help her. I didn’t want to lose it. So I did everything to keep it.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Mrs. Maeda said.
The door burst open. Everyone’s gazes turned to the door. Larry walked in and pulled out a piece of paper.
“That’s the arrest warrant,” he said, handing it to Detective Myers. Detective Myers bent over and began to handcuff Oliver.
“Oliver Sharpe, you’re being arrested on suspicion of murder. You are required to come down to the police station to give your statement. You do not have to say anything but it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand?” Detective Myers asked Oliver. He nodded weakly, with a dazed expression. Oliver began to walk towards the door, Detective Myers behind him. He stopped near Jane and turned to her.
“When did you find out?” he asked. Jane’s eyes widened. A smile crossed Detective Myers’s face.
“Before you,” she whispered.
“I still don’t understand something,” Mr. McEwan said. “If the pages revealing Oliver’s name were missing, how did Mr. Greene find out about the incident?”
“He spoke to the witness that I spoke to.” Detective Myers said.
“But still….”
“I told him.” Mrs. Wolverhampton said.
Jane’s eyes widened.
“Well, not in so many words but….when he joined, I told him about Robert’s diary. I had to tell someone. I had no idea he was Robert’s father. He didn’t put it on his CV. I didn’t mention names. I didn’t have to. I spoke about it when we were putting together the yearbook. Oliver’s photo was right there. I think he understood. Maybe he already had the diary or….he put it all together after he found the diary….I don’t know. But I think he understood what I was saying.”
Mr. McEwan nodded
Detective Myers nodded and moved along. The constable opened the door. Larry was standing outside. His eyes met Jane’s. She nodded. Mrs. Wolverhampton, Mrs. Maeda and Mr. McEwan were stupefied. The door closed. Mrs. Wolverhampton’s knees gave out and she collapsed on the floor. Mr. McEwan’s lifeless eyes gazed at the carpet. Jane inhaled. It was over. Finally.
***
The remnants of the evening sun were sinking into the horizon as Jane walked to the parking lot where Gary Myers stood next to his car, staring into the distance. He turned upon hearing the grass rustle.
“Over. At last,” he said, exhaling a puff of cigarette smoke.
“You’re back?” Jane asked, standing by his side. She folded her arms over her chest and stared at the horizon.
“I had some evidence to take care of.”
“You aren’t feeling nostalgic, are you?” Jane asked, nudging his arm.
“Call me sentimental, but I’ll miss the rustic charms of Tenterden.”
Jane turned to Gary, her face lighting up with a wide grin.
“I never thought I’d hear you say that.”
“This place has changed me.”
“Taken the edge off you?”
“I think I’m a better person for it.”
“I agree.”
He looked at her and smiled. “I never thought I’d say this, but I’ll miss you. When I left five years ago, it was different.” He didn’t make eye contact.
“You’ll miss me, huh?”
He smiled.
“Have you grown attached to this place?” Jane asked.
“In a way,” he said. “And to Tenterden. To the calm and predictability of this place.”
“And the clear air.”
Gary exhaled another puff of smoke.
“When are you leaving?”
“The day after tomorrow.”
“Have you shipped your stuff to Liverpool?”
Detective Myers nodded. He distanced the cigarette from his lips and turned to her. The sunlight highlighted the lines on his face.
“Gary, thank you,” Jane said.
“What for?”
“For everything,” he said. “For being there for me, for taking me around and making me feel better about myself. For being a friend and a listening ear.”
“I believe the last was your therapist’s doing.”
“You knew I was going to see someone?”
“I might have seen you at the hospital once or twice.”
“You weren’t—”
He shrugged. “You look better. I’m glad you’re doing better.”
“I feel better. I’m going to Charlie’s school this weekend.”
“Good luck.”
“Thank you.”
“Thank you for helping me out on this case. I owe you one.”
“Never mind.”
“Any chance you’re thinking of switching professions?”
“No. Not yet, at any rate,” Jane said.
“All the best, then,” Gary said. He threw the cigarette on the ground and crushed it with his shoe. “St. Anne’s is a nice place. I hope you enjoy life in Tenterden. You’ll miss it someday.”