The Tangled Web

by Lacey Dearie

  Adam hobbled into the bathroom and removed his phone. Although he had assured Flic the past didn’t matter, he was still plagued by curiosity. He had to know what he would be compared with – and what had been so great about this Amy to make George leave Flic for her.

  He selected the MaisonNet app, which he hadn’t used in a while and searched for Felixia Goodbody. One result. He clicked the link and saw a smiling red-haired version of Flic looking back at him. Red-haired? Was black not her natural hair colour? He’d soon find out once he was fit enough for some bedroom action, he decided. He raised his eyebrows when he saw the last login date. September 2006. She’d been telling the truth about that.

  A quick search of her friends showed nobody by the name of George or Amy. Well, of course the first thing that would happen is that either she would delete them in anger or they would delete her through guilt.

  He searched their names and found only a few people in America. They didn’t look like they knew each other anyway.

  After a search of a few other sites, showing only private profiles with no pictures to view, he moved on to Tête-a-net. Jackpot!

  Amy Goodbody, a skinny red-head with pale blue eyes was listed as, “from Exeter but living in Torquay, twenty-five years old and married to George Goodbody”. She worked as a paralegal, though the company wasn’t listed on her public information. This was the woman he was looking for.

  Adam spent a couple of minutes looking through some of her profile pictures then got bored. There were two hundred and sixty-eight of them. She must change her picture every other day! Adam supposed she was attractive, if you liked women with no meat on them, modest cleavage and no eyebrows. And her chin appeared to be missing too.

  He shook his head at himself. He was being mean about this woman and he didn’t even know her. He was about to have a quick look through George’s pictures when Flic called from the other side of the door.

  ‘Are you ok?’ she audibly frowned.

  ‘Yeah, I’ve been to the loo, just checking my messages before I start limping out,’ he fibbed.

  ‘Come on, Magnus wants us all briefed on what’s been happening with each client. Such a slave driver!’ she giggled.

  ‘Right, I’ll just be a minute,’ Adam smiled.

  He took one last look at Amy’s picture. He thought about how distant Flic had seemed when she was talking about her divorce and how bitter she was about the men cheating online – the ones she had made it her job to catch and expose. Then he thought about how happy and carefree Amy looked. And how happy Flic had been in her old MaisonNet picture. Before Amy and George had turned off the lights in her eyes. It wasn’t right!

  He saw Amy’s email address displayed on her public information. Silly girl. Anyone could see that. Anyone could send her an email. Anyone. Even someone who doesn’t know her – like him.

  George had cheated on Flic, so he could easily cheat on Amy too. Adam wondered to himself if Amy really trusted her husband. Really. Truly. Wouldn’t there always be that seed of doubt, that he had met her online, so what was stopping him from meeting someone else online?

  Adam’s thoughts were racing. What if someone watered that seed….with a little bit of information about how to check up on her husband. Nobody would even have to say that he was cheating. They would just have to give Amy the opportunity to check if he was or not. Would she really trust him?

  He smiled at the wicked turn his thoughts had taken. A little marketing email from HunE-trap Investigations in her inbox would wipe that smile off her face! Even if it was only for a few minutes. He logged out of the Tête-a-net app and typed a short email to Amy.

  “Is your man an online cheater? Does he close browsers when you enter the room? Does he delete his history? Do you really know what he gets up to online?

  Find out! Visit www.hunetrap.com for more information!”

  He chuckled to himself as he pressed send and hopped back into the dining room. That would sort her out!

  *****

  The evening came and Adam’s thoughts were never far from his conversation with Flic earlier that day. He was still of the opinion that what happened in their past shouldn’t affect their relationship now but it irritated him that he hadn’t known about her marriage.

  It irritated him more that he hadn’t asked in the first place. Since most girls his age were single and he was used to dating people his own age or younger, it had never occurred to him to ask.

  He decided he would have to have a serious think about what else he wanted to know about Flic. Her age, for a start.

  ‘Rubbish weather,’ Vicky nudged him, interrupting his thoughts.

  ‘Are we that hard up for things to talk about?’ he quipped.

  ‘I’m just saying because I doubt if I’ll make it home tonight. The snow’s too heavy to drive through,’ Vicky rammed home.

  ‘You can sleep on the couch if you want. You too Magnus. I’ve got an airbed Sasha could sleep on, as long as we can find a way for her not to wriggle off it,’ Flic offered.

  Adam watched Vicky’s face light up as she accepted eagerly. Magnus contorted his face as he voiced the pros and cons, to himself more than to anyone else, then his eyes darted to Sasha and he refused the offer.

  ‘I’ll just go and get some duvets out of the cupboard,’ Flic announced. ‘I think I’ve got enough…..pillows.’ She was interrupted mid-sentence by a noise like a wave of a fairy’s wand. ‘There’s another HunE-trap Investigations email arriving! Could you get that Vic and I’ll get the bedding?’ she pipped.

  Vicky pounced at Flic’s open laptop on the coffee table. She grinned as she keyed in a reply. ‘Another enquiry outside the Inverness area!’

  ‘Really? Magnus grinned. ‘Let me look!’

  Adam watched as they excitedly scoured the email they had received and proof-read Vicky’s response.

  ‘This is great! We’ll have to send Peter a bottle of whatever he drinks and a thank you card for the article. This enquiry is from England!’ Vicky chortled.

  ‘We’ll have to check the website stats later too. We might have people viewing it and thinking about contacting us, even if they haven’t done so yet,’ Magnus grinned.

  ‘Is it a definite client or just an enquiry?’ Adam asked.

  ‘Just an enquiry at this stage. She wants more information. I just love her surname, I wish I had one like that!’ Vicky exclaimed. ‘There, I sent her one of our forms and a copy of our terms and conditions for her to agree to and post or fax back. This is so exciting!’

  ‘What’s her name? I’ll write her in the red folder as a potential client to follow up if she doesn’t get back to us,’ Adam said.

  ‘Goodbody,’ Vicky responded.

  Adam’s face flushed and his heart raced faster. What had he done? ‘Goodbody?’ he repeated.

  ‘Yeah, straight out of a Carry On film, isn’t it? Amy Goodbody.’

  11

  11th February

  ‘Bank statement, bills…depressing shit...’ Flic trailed off.

  ‘I’ll need to start re-directing my mail here,’ Adam mused as he chewed on a croissant.

  ‘You sure you don’t want some hot chocolate with that?’ Flic asked, draining her own mug of steaming Nesquik.

  ‘Nah, maybe later,’ he replied.

  ‘Ah, here’s something for HunE-trap Investigations!’ Flic brightened. She grabbed her sterling silver letter opener from a drawer in the desk she’d recently been given by Magnus for her living-room-cum-office and slid the blade along the sealed envelope.

  ‘What is it?’ Adam queried.

  ‘New client information sheet. “Dear Madam,” blah blah blah…oooh, “My husband and I met while he was still married to his previous wife and we began our relationship after meeting online.” I already hate this woman,’ Flic snarled.

  ‘Sounds like a nasty piece of work. What else does it say?’ Adam asked in a muffled tone while gnawing on his breakfast.

  ‘She’s going on about having ema
iled us at the weekend…thanks us for our prompt response. I don’t remember seeing a new client name in the folder,’ Flic furrowed her brow.

  Adam stiffened, and stopped chewing for a second. ‘I didn’t write any new names in. Maybe Vicky handled it and forgot to make a note of it,’ he covered.

  ‘Maybe. She’s signed the terms and conditions and sent her information sheet back to us...she could just have scanned it and emailed it, silly bugger…hang on…’ she trailed off.

  ‘What is it?’ Adam wheedled.

  ‘Um…’ Flic couldn’t find the connection from her brain to her mouth to explain what she saw to Adam.

  The handwriting in front of her was familiar. Very familiar! She’d seen it and taken the piss out of it umpteen times in another life.

  “Looks like an old woman’s scrawl,” was what she had said so often in the past.

  She scoured the information sheet for a name and in a fluster couldn’t find one, even though she had designed the sheet herself. She checked the letter for a signature.

  And there it was. Amy Goodbody.

  ‘Flic?’ Adam pressed.

  ‘I’ll look at it later,’ she grimaced, stuffing the documents back into the envelope ferociously.

  She could feel her pulse roaring through her ears and became disorientated. She put her hand back to her croissant, but her co-ordination failed her and her hand missed the pastry by a couple of inches.

  She had to get out of here.

  ‘I might go and get dressed and then go for a walk,’ she announced.

  ‘Alright,’ Adam nodded. He carried on munching.

  Flic was grateful that he wasn’t pushing this and trying to get more information. Her breathing was becoming ragged and she knew she had to leave the room or Adam would suspect something was very wrong. And he would be right.

  *****

  ‘I need a word,’ Flic panted, striding towards the desk where Vicky sat.

  Vicky was ready to attend a funeral. She was smartly dressed in a modest black pencil skirt, crisp white shirt and black tie. Flic could see that Vicky had traded the jeans and boots she wore when she was off duty for a pair of ten denier American tan tights and plain black court shoes. A black top hat was sitting on her lap. She usually admired how Vicky didn’t bother too much with her appearance. What was it like to leave the house without make-up and not care? It was her second shock of the day to see a very inconspicuous woman looking so smart and striking for a change. She made a mental note to advise Vicky at another time that androgynous dressing really suited her.

  ‘Now? Seriously?’ Vicky used her hand to gesture towards her clothing and silently make her plan for the morning known. Flic nodded her response.

  ‘I need to leave in five minutes,’ Vicky asserted. Her voice was hushed and Flic realised Vicky had switched into work mode.

  Vicky steered Flic towards the waiting room at the front of the building.

  ‘I’m so sorry madam, but clients aren’t allowed in the office. If you’ll just come out to the waiting room I’ll get you a tea or a coffee and a member of our staff will have a chat with you in just a few minutes,’ Vicky purred in a soothing tone, attempting to put her colleagues off any suspicions they had regarding Flic’s visit.

  She closed the door gently then placed her hands on her hips. ‘What’s so important?’

  ‘I’m sorry I’m going to get you in trouble, but I didn’t know what to do,’ Flic groaned.

  ‘What is it?’ Vicky hissed.

  Flic inhaled slowly and deeply to steady her voice. ‘Someone I know has contacted HunE-trap Investigations.’

  Vicky shook her head. ‘We knew this would happen occasionally. Inverness isn’t that big a town, and since Peter wrote that article, it was more of a possibility.’

  ‘No, no, you don’t understand. Someone I know from when I lived in Devon has got in touch with us.’

  ‘I thought you were from Bristol,’ Vicky cut her off.

  ‘I am. I moved to Devon after I got married to start a business.’

  ‘You’re married?’ Vicky exclaimed.

  ‘I was. I’m divorced. It’s my ex-husband’s new wife who’s been in touch,’ Flic quavered.

  ‘Shut up!’ Vicky scoffed.

  Flic pursed her lips together and looked Vicky straight in the eye. Didn’t she realise what a problem this was?

  ‘Oh my God, you’re serious,’ Vicky gasped. ‘This is too much of a coincidence. Someone must have told her about us.’

  ‘Well it wasn’t me. I’m not in touch with anyone from Devon any more. Only my immediate family know I’m living here and they don’t know about HunE-trap Investigations. The only person from my family I’m really in touch with regularly is my Gran because she lives up here. It’s just bad luck,’ Flic decided.

  ‘No. Isn’t there something like sixty million people in this country? And of all of them, the one who gets in touch is your ex’s new wife? Something’s not right about this,’ Vicky determined.

  ‘Well, it’s not MY doing. I’m not in touch with anyone who knows her. I’m telling you Vicky, the Internet is a very small place.’

  ‘Can I help you with anything?’ Scarlett asked brightly, peeking her head around the door.

  ‘No!’ they halted in unison.

  ‘Well,’ she began, twisting her whole body through the barely opened door. ‘I couldn’t help overhearing…’

  ‘You sneaky bitch! You were listening in! This is a private conversation!’ Flic snarled. She did a double take on seeing Scarlett standing in front of her. The last time she saw her, Scarlett was a waif. She had been pale and willowy and looked like a poor soul. Something was obviously making her much happier because she was glowing and had definitely bulked up.

  Scarlett wrinkled her nose disdainfully. ‘As I was saying, I overheard what you were saying and I don’t see this new wife contacting you as being a bad thing.’

  ‘Explain,’ Vicky demanded, clearly losing patience with her two less than helpful colleagues.

  ‘Isn’t this why you got into this business? For revenge?’ Scarlett checked.

  ‘To give people the chance to make an informed decision about their future,’ Vicky corrected.

  ‘And to bring arseholes to justice,’ Flic added.

  ‘Now’s your chance,’ Scarlett shrugged.

  A moment of silence followed while Scarlett’s words penetrated. Flic could see her reasoning. Did it matter who the arsehole in question was? She could be professional about this, she assured herself. She could do the job and not think about who she was trapping. She didn’t have to let anything that had happened in her personal life affect what she did in her career. If anything, her inside knowledge of the person to be investigated in this case might actually help her cause. She knew what made him tick. She knew what kind of woman he was likely to fall for. She knew everything that turned him on…

  No. She couldn’t even consider it. She had come too far. She had worked too hard at forgetting him. And forgetting what he did.

  ‘Did Peter have anything to do with this?’ Vicky asked.

  Flic hadn’t even considered that. Peter was the one responsible for the publicity they had gained in the first place, she reminded herself. He had smelled a story as soon as he realised he was being investigated. Perhaps he smelled a story again – maybe he was trying to find out the reasons why they were doing the job at all. He’d found out about her divorce and the reason her marriage had broken up. Perhaps he’d smelled another story.

  ‘I can’t say yes or no, but I would doubt it strongly. He’s been investigating one of Wales’s most infamous gangsters in the last couple of weeks, so I don’t think he’ll have time to carry on with anything HunE-trap Investigations related,’ Scarlett whispered with a smile. The drama of Peter’s new investigation was clearly satisfying her.

  ‘This can’t be a coincidence,’ Vicky surmised. ‘But that’s irrelevant because we’re not taking this case on. It’s not worth the risk. Are we a
greed?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Flic nodded.

  ‘I think you should go home now and email what’s-her-name. Tell her something she can’t argue with – something like one of our team is related to her husband, so there’s a conflict of interest. And then recommend someone in her area. Just Google private investigators in Devon and give her a couple of phone numbers,’ Vicky instructed.

  ‘Right. I can do that,’ Flic assured herself. She turned to walk out of the building, feeling slightly dazed and overwhelmed by the morning’s events.

  As she reached the door, Vicky called out to her. ‘Flic! Are you ok?’

  Flic nodded and forced a smile.

  Vicky moved towards her and pulled her into a hug. ‘Just send the email and forget about it,’ she advised.

  Flic pulled her chin up, lengthened her neck and pushed her shoulders back. She had to keep pretending she was a carefree bitch, even if it wasn’t how she felt.

  ‘I will. And then we’ll put it behind us and get on with all the other investigations,’ she affirmed.

  As she put her hand on the door handle, she considered asking Vicky if there would be any advantages to taking the case on – other than revenge. She opened her mouth to speak then caught sight of Scarlett, still hanging around waiting for juicy titbits to feed her inner drama queen. The sight of her reminded Flic of all the trouble they could have been in because of her. If it hadn’t been for Magnus and Peter striking a deal, Peter could have written something very different in his article.

  Vicky and Scarlett looked back at her, waiting to hear what she had to say. She couldn’t bring herself to suggest what she was thinking – to voice her temptations. So she turned it back around.

  ‘By the way Scarlett, you’re looking fabulous today. How are things with you and Peter now?’ she asked.

  ‘We’re doing ok. We’re going to get some professional help to try and salvage our relationship,’ Scarlett panted.

  ‘Oh, couples’ counselling?’ Flic wheedled.

  ‘No. We’ve applied to go on the Jeremy Kyle Show.’