Behind Every Cloud

by Lawless, Pauline

  That night, Marcus returned from a blissful two weeks in Ibiza where he’d fallen madly in love. He couldn’t wait to tell Zita all about it. He was hoping he’d find that she’d finally got over this obsession she had with Carl Dunne. He knocked on her door, bottle of Cava in hand. Eventually the door opened.

  “Hello, sweetie! Welcome back,” she drawled, slurring her words. “How was Ibiza?”

  “Ibiza was great,” he replied, realising that she was drunk. He couldn’t believe it! Zita never got drunk. It took the wind out of his sails. There was no point in telling her about his new lover while she was in this state.

  “Come in, come in,” she cried, flinging the door back and practically falling over.

  He grabbed her to stop her falling down.

  “I have the most wonderful . . . bloody great . . . news! Carl has left. . . what’s her name . . . his wife. Amn’t I clever?” She grinned at him.

  “What had you to do with it?” he asked her, lowering her on to the armchair.

  “I did it with my blog!” she giggled.

  “What are you talking about?” he asked puzzled. “What blog?”

  “Trouble in Paradise blog. Don’t tell me you haven’t read it?” Her eyes were wide with disbelief. “Everyone’s read it. I’m famous!”

  She threw the tabloids with her photo splashed all over them at him.

  Reading them, he paled. “Zita, are you crazy?” he shrieked. “You can’t do this! You’ll never get away with it! You could be arrested for this.”

  “I’m much too clever for that,” she laughed. “They’ll never catch me. And he’s left her, hasn’t he?”

  Marcus looked at her and realised that she really believed it. She thought she would get away with it. She was nuts!

  “I’ve got away with much, much worse than this,” she drawled. “You have no idea what I’ve got away with.” She wagged her finger at him. “I have a verrrry dark past. And it’s dangerous to mess with me.”

  Something about the way she said it sent a shiver down his spine. Her eyes glittered with malice. She scared him.

  He quickly said goodnight and hot-tailed it back to his own apartment, locking the door carefully behind him. He Googled her blog. God, she was nuts! She had totally lost her gripand he didn’t like it.

  The only fly in the ointment in Ronan’s life at the moment was Rachel’s unhappiness. Still, she was coping wonderfully, all things considered. He wondered if she might change her mind and give Carl another chance but she was adamant. She was finished with him and was going to seek a divorce. She was proving to be a remarkably strong woman, as was Fiona who kept in touch with him daily and who had been very sympathetic about Rachel’s predicament.

  The deal for the premises in Naas was concluded and Sam was busy getting it up and running.Ronan had always thought Naas was a great town and when Sam had taken him down to see the premises he’d been charmed with both the shop and the cosy, yet spacious apartment above. It was bang in the centre of town and he knew he’d be very happy there.

  He’d received a letter from Louise’s solicitor to say she was filing for divorce. She wanted it as quickly as possible so was going to do it through the English courts. Alan had seemingly found a way to do this. She wanted nothing from Ronan which was a relief. He replied, saying he would not contest it. Yes, indeed life was good. He’d found the silver lining behind his cloud!

  If only this awful thing wasn’t happening to Rachel.

  Zita knew that she would have to close the blog when Carl came back to her. She would miss it. It had given her a sense of power but, let’s face it, when she and Carl became a couple, it would be like cutting her nose to spite her face. No, the blog would have to end.

  She rang Carl that afternoon. “Hi, it’s me.” When he didn’t respond she said, “Zita.”

  “Zita? What the hell do you want? Haven’t you done enough damage?”

  She was taken aback. She’d thought he’d be pleased to hear from her.

  “What do you mean?” she snivelled. “It’s not my fault that somebody is out to get you.”

  “If I’d never met you none of this would have happened. You obviously blabbed about our relationship to people. Have you any idea who might be writing this rubbish?”

  She was shocked. This wasn’t what she had expected. “I’ve no idea who it could be,” she protested. “I’ve been wronged here too, Carl, but we can cope with it as long as we’re together.”

  “Zita, get real, there’s no ‘together’ for us,” he snapped, his voice bitter.

  “But now that you’ve left Rachel, I thought that we –”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You were never more than a diversion to me.” He heard Zita gasp. “And I didn’t leave Rachel, she threw me out, and I plan to do everything in my power to get her back. Now don’t contact me again. We’re through!” He slammed the phone shut.

  Zita was in shock. This wasn’t panning out the way she’d planned it at all. What had he called her – ‘a diversion’? She seethed with anger. He’d been using her, the prick! And to think of all the trouble she’d taken to destroy his marriage. He had no intention of coming back to her, ever. He’d made that clear. She closed her eyes and heard again the way he’d spat out “We’re through.”

  The bastard! She’d get him for this. She recalled the saying from the film The First Wives Club: Don’t get mad – get even. She’d get even alright!She’d planned to close the blog but now she decided to redouble her efforts.

  Sam, Ellie and Ronan headed out to Rachel’s house that evening. She hugged them all and was very happy to see them. Ellie was shocked at how much weight she’d lost and, although she’d made up her face very carefully, the strain was showing on it.

  Sam had brought wine, Ellie chocolates and Ronan flowers. “Oh, you’re so kind, all of you,” she cried, tears coming to her eyes.

  She’d prepared a Thai curry for them and as they sat around the table eating it Rachel felt some form of normality return. By the end of the evening she was laughing again, something she hadn’t done for what seemed like ages.

  Ronan was happy to see that although she had a couple of glasses of wine she wasn’t throwing it back like she used to. She was really quite a remarkable woman.

  “Well, your exam results are due in early next week,” Sam announced, “so I suggest we all go out for a slap-up meal next Friday, what do you say?”

  “Oh yes, that would be fabulous,” Rachel cried, her eyes shining.

  “Cool,” Ellie remarked.

  “I’ll contact the four young ones and let them know,” Sam said. “I take it we’re all in agreement that Zita is not to be invited?”

  Rachel grimaced. “I couldn’t come if she were there. Maybe I shouldn’t?” A shadow crossed her face as she spoke.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Ellie warned. “She can’t come. I would possibly throttle her.”

  “No, you wouldn’t because I’d get to her before you,” announced Ronan.

  Rachel smiled at them gratefully. They were great friends to have. “I hope we have all passed,” she said tremulously to Sam.

  “You’d better have,” he pronounced, “or I’m in trouble.”

  69

  Zita was drunk again. Very drunk! She’d arrived home that evening, planning her revenge, and opened a bottle of wine as she thought about it. When that one was finished she’d opened a second one.

  When she heard Marcus coming in she waylaid him in the hall, waving the bottle of wine. Hesaw that she was in a bad way. He had been avoiding her since the previous evening.

  “Christ, Zita! What are you doing?”

  “My life is over,” she blubbered. “Carl says we’re through.”

  “For God’s sake, woman, get a grip! You knew it wasn’t going to come to anything,” he commented irritably, still standing in the hallway. He didn’t want to invite her into his apartment.

  “I thought if I ruined his marriage he’d come back to me,” she
whimpered.

  Marcus shook his head. How could she be so naïve? He didn’t understand her.

  Suddenly, she changed tack. “I’ll get my own back,” she hinted slyly. “He won’t know what’s hit him. I have plans – big plans.” She laughed gleefully.

  Marcus didn’t know whether he preferred her maudlin or hostile. She was an enigma. She could change like quicksilver.

  “I think you should quit this wine-drinking and go to bed,” he told her gently.

  “You don’t believe me?” she said sharply. “I can tell you things I’ve done to people who’ve wronged me that would make your toes curl.”

  He believed her. He’d believed her the other night too. She’d obviously done something really bad in her past and he didn’t want to know about it. He was anxious to escape her presence.

  “Aren’t you going to invite me in?” she asked, lounging against his doorframe.

  “Zita, I’m really exhausted. Let’s do it another night.” He quickly said goodnight and slipped into his flat.God, she really was a psycho!He’d seen what she was capable of with that blog she’d written which had destroyed Carl’s marriage. How much further had she gone or would she go to destroy him? Marcus shivered, glad he wasn’t the one in her sights.

  Zita went into her own apartment, put out that he hadn’t invited her in. Angry, she switched on her laptop and started her blog: NEP not satisfied with a womanly woman. No, he’s into little children too!She pressed send and laughed wickedly at the thought of what Carl would think of this latest ploy of hers.

  He’d learn that he’d trifled with the wrong woman!

  The following morning, Carl read the blog and a terrible fear clutched him. This was slander of the worst kind. Although it was blatantly untrue, mud sticks, and unless he could take this evil writer to task and prove himself innocent, people would remember this and probably believe it.

  His phone rang and he saw with relief that it was Rachel.

  “Oh, Rach,” he cried, tears coming to his eyes. “I’m so happy you’ve called.”

  “Carl, I’m just calling to say that I read the blog this morning and whatever else you’ve done I know that this is not true.”

  “Oh Rach, please come back. I love you and miss –”

  “No, Carl. We’re through. I’ve applied for a separation. I just wanted to tell you that I know you’re not a paedophile. Goodbye, Carl.”

  Click. She hung up.

  Carl let the tears flow. She’d sounded so cool yet he’d loved the sound of her voice. It was so noble of her to ring to tell him that. He was grateful for that at least.

  His phone rang again. He answered, hoping it was Rachel and that she’d changed her mind. It was Stan and he sounded excited.

  “We’ve got her, Carl, we’ve found the blogger. She made a big mistake last night, blogging from her own computer. Up to now she’s used internet cafés but she slipped up last night.” He couldn’t conceal his exhilaration.

  “Who is it?” Carl asked hoarsely.

  “Zita Williams – your mystery lady.”

  Carl felt his legs go weak. “I don’t believe it. What can I do?”

  “I suggest you get your lawyer to deal with it. He will report it to the Computer Crime Investigation Unit and they’ll take it from there. They’re very efficient.”

  Carl felt relieved. “What I want to do is go round and throttle her,” he said.

  “That’s the worst thing you could do. You mustn’t let her know you’ve found out it’s her. You can’t give her the chance to destroy the evidence. Trust me, they’ll catch her.”

  “Whew! I can’t believe she could be so evil.”

  “Well, she’ll pay for it, never you fear.”

  The results of the wine exam were on Sam’s desk. He read them with a smile. He could almost have predicted them. The only surprises were that Hayley had done so well and that Zita had done so badly. He supposed he’d better call her.

  “Hello, Zita, Sam here, from the wine course.”

  “Oh hello, Sam.” She held her head which was throbbing unmercifully with her hangover.

  “The results of the exam are in and I thought I’d let you know that unfortunately you didn’t pass.” His voice was cold.

  “Oh!” She wasn’t terribly surprised and right now she didn’t care. She didn’t give a shit about anything! “Oh, I see. Well, thanks, Sam,” she said, thinking ‘Fuck you, I bet you enjoyed that!’ in her own mind.

  She had stayed home that morning as her hangover was the worst she’d ever had so she was surprised when she heard a knock on the door. Bloody Marcus, she thought, opening it angrily. Two plainclothes detectives stood there flashing their IDs at her.

  “Miss Zita Williams?”

  “Yes.”

  “We have a warrant to detain you for questioningunder Section Four of the Criminal Justice Act.”

  She tried to close the door but they were too quick for her. She lashed out at the first man but within two seconds his partner had her in handcuffs.

  “Let us warn you that anything you say may be taken down and used against you in evidence.”

  “Fuck off!” she shrieked. “What are you accusing me of?”

  “Incitement to hatred.”

  She struggled with them all the way down the stairs but she was no match for them. They bundled her into the car.

  In the station they fingerprinted her and took her photograph and then she was led to a room to be questioned.

  She quickly realised that they somehow knew that she was behind the blog. She’d slipped up somewhere. She demanded to see her lawyer.

  The police in both Ireland and Australia had moved with great speed and during the twenty-four hours that Zita was being held for questioning, Interpol confirmed that her fingerprints matched those of Dolores Wright, the woman wanted for murder in Australia. An extradition warrant was sought and granted against her. Murder was murder in any country.

  As Donal had read through the file he received from Phil, he recalled the gruesome details of the horrific murder of Lee Simmons. The fact that the victim was a pimp who had mistreated and brutalised his ‘girls’ didn’t make his death any more acceptable.

  He’d been killed in the most horrible manner. His hands and feet had been tied to his bed with four sets of handcuffs. His genitals had been cut off, his body mutilated and his throat slit. It was one of the most horrific murders any of them had seen.

  They’d interviewed numerous prostitutes who admitted that they were happy he was dead but all of them had been ruled out as the killer. The only ‘girl’ in his stable that they couldn’t trace was a woman called Dolores Wright. They’d been given a photo of her from one of the other prostitutes but, try as they might, they couldn’t locate her. They heard from many of the other girls that Dolores had hated Lee with a vengeance and had been heard threatening to kill him. Many of the girls said they’d been afraid of her – that she was a ‘psycho’.

  There was damning evidence that she was the culprit. She was the only person caught on video camera entering his apartment that day. She’d stayed for only halfanhour and it was within the timeframe that the coroner had said was the time of death. They’d taken fresh fingerprints from the handcuffs and from a glass that was found beside his bed. They couldn’t find a match for them anywhere but had retained them on file. They set about searching for her but she seemed to have vanished off the face of the earth. And now Donal had found her. He couldn’t believe his luck.

  Zita was being very uncooperative and hostile but the evidence stacked against her as the blogger was incontrovertible and the following morning she was charged with incitement to hatred and remanded on her own bail. She smirked as she prepared to leave the court, knowing that she would never have to stand trial. She was way cleverer than they were. She would simply disappear again.

  Then, as she was leaving the court, her worst nightmare came true. She heard the Australian accent and knew what was coming.

  “Miss
Zita Williams aka Dolores Wright, we have a warrant for your extradition to Adelaide, Australia, to stand trial for the murder of Lee Simmons.”

  Zita almost fainted. She was thrust back into her nightmares of Lee’s body rising up to stab her and then the awful feeling of not being able to run to get away from him. That’s how she felt now. She couldn’t move.

  It was all over in a flash.

  Because of the extradition warrant, the case against her for incitement to hatred was rushed through the courts. She was found guilty of slandering Carl in the blogs. She was ordered to make an unequivocal apology to him and retract everything she’d said, admitting they were lies. She was also ordered to compensate him to the tune of €30,000. This was the least of her troubles. There were much worse things to come.

  Eight hours later she was on a flight to Australia, wondering where and how it had all gone so terribly wrong.

  Zita’s face flashed out from every TV network that evening. She was big news. The author of the scurrilous blog was also wanted for a gruesome murder back in Australia. Rachel was flabbergasted. How could she have misjudged someone so badly? She felt such a fool. But she didn’t feel half as bad as Carl felt. He realised what an error of judgement he’d made. In fact he was beginning to realise how lightly he’d got off. When he read the awful things she’d done to that poor guy in Australia he broke into a sweat thinking what she could have done to him. She was evil through and through. Thank God she was out of his life forever.

  He hoped Rachel would contact him but she didn’t. The following day he received notice that she was applying for a legal separation. She had allowed him to visit the children but only under the supervision of Paloma. She herself had kept out of sight. He would have to wait for the court to decide on custody but that was a foregone conclusion. Rachel was the injured party in their relationship.