Love. Lies. Dying.

by Carla Blake

  “Then go.” Katherine tells her for the third time. “Christ Alex, it’s three in the morning. Get some sleep.”

  “Yes, good idea,” Alex slurs, loosing her tentative grip on the door jamb, “I’ll do that. I’ll go to bed. You’re great, you know that? Great.”

  Getting up, Katherine steers Alex out of her room and into her own where she deposits her, fully clothed, on the bed. Her shoes are already off, God knows where they are, and she leaves her to sleep it off.

  Back in her own room, she flops down on the bed and switches on the TV, keeping the volume low. What’s the point in having it any louder when she cannot understand the language? A thriller is showing, and she stares at it with little interest, her eyes beginning to close. The last thing she sees is a woman in a red dress undressing in front of a mirror.

  Chapter Twelve

  “I am not going to argue with you. I need to see Katherine Johnson right now! Not in a minute. Or an hour, or at some other ridiculous time your electronic diary specifies I can. I want to see her now! And please convey to Miss. Johnson that if she does not agree to see me, I will have her arrested.”

  Alex’s smile is tight and if she had her way, it would also be venomous enough to kill Detective Marsh in a suffocating, tongue hanging out kind of fashion. Instead, though, despite her best efforts it seems the Detective is immune to her particular form of poison and getting up from her desk, she crosses the small foyer and pushes her way through the frosted glass doors to Katherine’s inner sanctum.

  Katherine, busy on the telephone, is not best pleased at the interruption and waves Alex away irritably. She is even less pleased when Alex ignores her and announces who is waiting outside.

  “I suppose you better let them in then,” she says, ending the phone call and fighting against the bead of cold sweat that threatens to swell on her upper lip. “You say there’s two of them?”

  “Yes. Detective Marsh and some lanky git called Clifford. Shall I offer them coffee?”

  “Absolutely not! Just show them in and then hold all my calls. And be prepared to cancel my next appointment.”

  Katherine does not like the way Detective Clifford keeps looking at her and he is hardly one to stare, dressed as he is in his mismatched jacket and trousers. But stare he does and it’s like he’s already made up his mind about her. She’s guilty of killing Amy and is now only waiting for the formalities to be over before he can grab her by the collar and cart her off to the cells. It makes her want to squirm.

  In contrast, Detective Marsh, dressed in a proper suit and with the ends of her curly hair still damp from the shower looks very professional, well aside from the hair, and her expression is giving nothing away as she makes herself comfortable, before Katherine has the chance to invite her or the thuggish Clifford to sit, and then tells Katherine there have been some ‘interesting developments’ and that she is very sorry -like hell- but she needs Katherine to accompany her to the station.

  “Would you remind me again how well you knew Amy Aster?”

  Katherine is sitting in a police interview room with Detectives Marsh and Clifford.

  The walls are painted off white with plenty of scuff marks around the skirting and she is sitting on the other side of a bare wooden table to the Detectives. The expected tape machine is whirling softly at one end. The chair she is sitting in is hard, grey plastic and she wonders how many guilty bums have sat in it before hers. Not that she’s told them she’s guilty and they haven’t accused her of anything yet, its just a thought.

  She is still wearing the dark grey suit she put on this morning. Her hair is tied back. She taps newly painted fingernails on the table and knows they can both smell the perfume she sprayed on before she left her office. She hopes one of them might realise how bloody expensive it was.

  Detective Marsh is waiting for her answer.

  Katherine raises an eyebrow. “Was that her surname?” She enquires. “Aster? I never realised. Any relation?”

  The question does not flummox Marsh as Katherine hoped it might. She’s clearly not that ignorant then.

  “Not that I know of.” Marsh says, a trifle smugly. “So, how well did you know her?”

  “I knew her as well as any of the other models I’ve worked with. Maybe a little better. Amy did a fair amount of photo shoots for the magazine.”

  “And did you ever visit her apartment?”

  “No. I have no idea where she lives. Lived.”

  “I see. In that case, I think you should know, Miss. Johnson, that we have recovered quite a few items of clothing from Amy’s apartment with your fingerprints on them. Can you explain that?”

  Katherine blinks in surprise. She hopes the action conveys to the Detectives how ridiculous she finds the question. “I’m a fashion magazine editor,” she says slowly as if talking to dim children. “I work with clothes. Of course my fingerprints are on some of them. I don’t just look at clothes you know. I have to touch them, feel the material, gauge the cut. I must have handled thousands of dresses over the years.”

  Marsh scribbles something down. Clifford reaches under the desk and pulls out a dark blue dress squashed inside a clear, plastic bag. It makes Katherine cringe to see such a lovely garment treated in such an appalling way.

  She shakes her head and Marsh catches it. Why did she do that?

  “Do you know how much that dress is worth?” Katherine says, reaching out to smooth out the creases as Clifford tells her not to touch. “Thousands. And you’ve stuffed it inside a plastic bag. It’s criminal.”

  “It’s evidence. This is the dress Amy was wearing at the restaurant.”

  “Then she had exquisite taste.”

  “She also had some nasty injuries.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Can you tell us where you went after leaving the restaurant Miss. Johnson?”

  “Yes, I went for a drive. I hadn’t had too much to drink, before you ask, but I fancied some air. To be honest, I didn’t feel too good.”

  “We know. The waitress told us you left early.”

  Katherine’s heart does a little flip. Shit! They’ve been checking up on her! And if they know that, they might know other stuff. Do they know Amy left before her? Do they know she followed her to her Docklands apartment? Have they watched them walk in together on the CCTV? Fuck! If they have...

  Panic grips her and she feels her pulse suddenly goes through the roof. The impulse to wipe her mouth or reach for her hair is overwhelming, but she’s not going to. Body language is everything. Her hands, resting on the table, are as steady as rock.

  “You should have walked.” Clifford is saying now. “Might have made you feel better.”

  “What?” She is not concentrating. His comment seems too banal for the situation.

  “You should have gone for a walk. Always clears my head when I don’t feel great.”

  “It was cold.” Katherine says, recovering herself. Her hands slip beneath the table where she runs them over her lap. “It was also quite late.”

  “Where did you drive to?” Marsh says.

  “Nowhere in particular.”

  “You must have gone somewhere.”

  Katherine’s mind is racing now. Assuming the worst. She decides to take a risk. If they already know everything then she will have lost nothing, but if they don’t, it might shield her from worse things to come.

  “I went straight home,” she says now, leaning back in her chair and staring at the ceiling as if really concentrating on getting it right, “I didn’t particularly want to. I knew Megan, that’s my housekeeper, would still be up and probably have a load of questions if I got in before she went to bed and I couldn’t be bothered with answering them.”

  “What sort of questions?”

  “Oh, you know, where I went, who I saw, what
I had to eat, that sort of thing. The poor girl is obsessed with what I do. Anyway, that’s what I did, I drove home.”

  Marsh scribbles something else down. “Have you had any physical contact with Amy Aster? Recently I mean.”

  Katherine frowns. Their line of questioning hops from one place to another like a fidgety butterfly. “I was often in the same room as her if that’s what you mean.”

  “No, I mean did you ever touch her?”

  “Well, yes, of course I did.”

  “Where?”

  “At fashion shoots?”

  “No Katherine. Where on her body did you touch her?”

  Katherine’s pulse thrums through her body like its comprised of electricity. Her mind, meanwhile, rudely reminds her that she should have worn fucking gloves!

  Inwardly, she takes a deep breath and reminds herself she has to be clever now. Think before you speak, she lectures herself. Don’t make things complicated.

  “The last time I saw her,” she begins. “was at a show about two, three weeks ago? Not long before I left for Nice. Alex, my assistant can specify dates if you need them. Amy was at the after show party. We all were. It was lovely and I particularly remember Amy because she had worn a specific dress I have championed and I was pleased with how good she had made it look. I probably hugged her then.”

  “And that was it? Just a congratulatory hug?”

  “As far as I remember. Look, I’m really sorry, but is this going to take much longer? I have an appointment in an hours time and it’s not one I care to miss.”

  “Give me a minute.” Marsh says and switching off the tape machine she removes the tapes and gestures for Clifford to join her before leaving the room.

  Left to her own devises, Katherine looks for the two way mirror, but there isn’t one. Just scruffy walls, two recently vacated chairs and the table. They haven’t even offered her a cup of tea. Not that she wants one. She just wants to get out. Away from this depressing little room with it’s air of disastrous inevitability.

  Five minutes later they return and Katherine instantly stiffens in her seat.

  Marsh nods at her. “You can go.” She says. “But don’t go too far okay? No jetting off to Hong Kong or somewhere without telling us first.”

  She says other stuff but Katherine doesn’t really listen. In her mind Hong Kong isn’t nearly far enough. She’s got her bum on a first class seat to Australia.

  God, the fresh air feels good!

  Climbing into her car and rolling down the window, Katherine calls Alex and gets her to cancel everything for the rest of the day.

  Alex, naturally, is burning with questions but Katherine cuts her off short, telling her that if she wishes to stay in employment to shut up right now and do what she says!

  Alex shuts up and Katherine heaves a sigh of relief.

  That’s one down.

  Now she needs to shut up Megan.

  Intimidation should do it.

  Megan is visibly shaking.

  Something she hasn’t stopped doing since Katherine roared up to the house, stomped over to the annex and bashed on her door until she opened it.

  Now they are in the lounge and Megan is sitting nervously on the sofa with Katherine towering over her. And she is towering. She is wearing the four inch heels she keeps in the car for just such occasions and they not only make her appear mega tall but very intimidating. They are amazing and she drags them out whenever she knows she is due to meet someone she needs to get one over on. They work too.

  There are certainly working with Megan. The girl hasn’t dared look at her for the last ten minutes and she is nodding vigorously to everything Katherine says.

  “So, to recap.” Katherine says, pacing the floor and leaving holes in Megan’s carpet. “If those bloody detectives ask, I came straight home and went to bed. You tried to ask if I was okay, but I wasn’t having any of it and ignored you. Got that?”

  Megan nods.

  “Good. You will not mention my split lip or the grazes on my hand or the bloody bonfire. Got that?”

  Again the nod.

  “Excellent. Then I imagine you and I are going to continue to get on famously. Stand up Megan.”

  Megan stands. Her head is tilted towards the floor, her hands clasped together in front of her. She looks like she might be praying.

  Taking hold of her hands, Katherine lifts them to her lips. Now she has got what she wants its time to seal the deal, and kissing her fingers, she tells her she is very grateful.

  “Let’s go to bed.” She says.

  As usual Megan is the perfect fucking partner. She is up for anything Katherine wishes to do to her and Katherine wants to do it all. She hasn’t forgotten her disappointment over the French girl in Nice and she uses Megan to cleanse herself of her frustration, taking her in every position she can think of.

  And when Megan produces a dildo she has just bought, a bright pink, ridged vibrator with three different settings, Katherine grabs it with relish and inserts it deep into Megan’s sopping wet cunt, fucking her so hard Megan gasps at her to stop.

  “Christ!” Megan cries, wiping a tear from her eyes, “That thing’s fucking intense! It’s like having your insides whisked. Wanna try it?”

  “Sure.” Katherine replies and lying on the bed, hands it over and spreads her legs, waiting for Megan to feed the lurid pink toy into her cunt.

  It slides in easily and without any overt sensation seeing as how Megan hasn’t turned it on yet. But then she slides the button to the first position and Katherine braces herself.

  At first she doesn’t think its too bad, the buzzing isn’t too harsh and with Megan feeding it in and out of her cunt in a nice rhythmic action, she is getting nicely turned on. The second setting is a little more challenging though and Katherine starts to see what Megan meant. The vibration is quite vigorous and not entirely unpleasant, but she feels like she is being hurried to orgasm. The third setting though, makes Katherine think it should have come with some sort of health warning, because within seconds of Megan activating it, she is coming so hard she feels like she might be loosing her womb!

  “Fucking hell!” She cries, when Megan finally switches it off. “What is that thing fuelled by? Titanium batteries?”

  “Duracell. I’m glad it’s not just me that thinks it’s a bit much though. I thought I was being a wimp. I might take it back.”

  “You won’t! It’s bloody marvelous! Let me try it again on you.”

  The phone wakes her.

  Katherine is in her own bed, having left Megan to sleep off their sexual encounter alone. She could have stayed the night with her, in fact, it would have been ridiculously easy just to snuggle under the duvet and go to sleep, but she didn’t want Megan getting the idea that somehow they were starting to become a couple and so she had left. Creeping out and startling the foxes as she crosses the night shrouded drive into the bigger house where she has taken a quick shower before crawling beneath her own chilly duvet.

  Now the phone is shattering her peaceful slumber.

  Reaching out, she pulls it to her ear and mumbles hello.

  “Katherine? It’s Alex.. Where are you?”

  “Well obviously I’m at home.” Katherine sighs. What a ridiculous question but Alex sounds panicked. The kind of tone she uses when something terrible has happened at the office. Like someone forgetting the Danish pastries with the coffee.

  “Katherine, I’m sorry if I woke you but the police have been round looking for you. They’re on their way to your house now!”

  Katherine shoots up in bed and stares at the clock. It’s gone nine and ordinarily she would have been in the office by now, which kinda explains why Alex asked where she was?

  “How long ago did they leave?”

  “Bout five minutes. I hit the p
hone soon as they’d gone. Katherine, they looked fucking grim! What do you want me to do?”

  “Nothing. Wait until I call you before you start canceling things and calm down! They probably just want to ask a few more questions, that’s all. I’ll wait here for them and then I’ll call you later okay?”

  ‘‘ Okay. Katherine. You’re not in any trouble are you?”

  Katherine laughs. Alex has no idea how much will power it takes her to do that.

  “No, of course not! Maybe they want me to formally ID her body or something. Does she have any family around here do you know? Anyway, I’ll be in touch. I’d better go now and put some clothes on.”

  Katherine dresses in double quick time, not bothering to shower. She has to leave! To get out of the house before the police arrive. She knows why they are coming here, it’s obvious. They have found the proof they needed that she killed Amy Aster and they are coming to arrest her.

  Frantic, she throws clothes into a holdall and follows them with make up and shoes and a couple of jackets. She packs only causal stuff leaving her suits and business dresses hanging in the wardrobe. At the bottom of the wardrobe, she pulls aside a couple of old briefcases and exposes a small safe she’s had screwed into the floor. Punching in the combination she empties it of several thousand pounds she’s kept there for an emergency, although this surely wasn’t the kind she’d envisaged, and stuffs the money into the bottom of the holdall. Snatching up her car keys, her sunglasses and her mobile she dashes out to the car, thanking God and Alex that she has at least a forty minute head start on the police.

  She doesn’t look back as she drives away from the house.

  Megan gets up five minutes later, showers, dresses and wanders over to the main house to put the coffee on before beginning her daily chores. Katherine’s car has gone so she assumes she has left for the office. Coffee bubbling, she goes upstairs, sees the state of Katherine’s upended bedroom, figures she must have woken up late and left in a panic, smiles to herself because she knows the reason why, and starts to tidy up.