by Olivia White
Dear Dennis
We met in a bar in Kuta, Bali. We drank, danced, talked over the music. You took me for a midnight stroll, the sky was beautiful. There was chemistry, electricity. You took my hand and kissed me. You were the perfect gentleman. I gave you my number, but I wrote it down wrong. I never got yours. I want to get back in touch. Dennis, if you're reading this, send me an email.
If anyone else can help locate Dennis, then send an email to desperatefordennis@_____.com. Dennis is tall, muscular, short brown hair, wears glasses, has a small scar under one of his beautiful brown eyes. He would have been in Bali in July 2012. Please get in touch.
"It comes across as too needy, doesn't it?" Laurie said.
"Yup, totally. You sound like a psycho stalker bitch from hell," Tamsin replied. "But what can you do?"
Laurie laughed. "I just wanna get the word out, Tam," she said. "I know he couldn't deny the energy between us."
Tamsin put her hand on Laurie's shoulder and pulled her closer, conspiratorially. The coffee shop was abuzz with noise. "You know this could backfire majorly?"
"I know."
"It could come back to bite you in the ass. You could end up looking very silly indeed."
"I know."
"Worth the risk?"
"Worth it."
Laurie watched, and waited. A couple of cranks to start with. Then Tamsin put it in her column and it went viral, of course, and the inbox exploded. Tamsin was good at things like this. She knew how to work the reporter angle, how to work the PR angle. She knew social media, she knew Twitter and Facebook and YouTube and god knows what else. Laurie wasn't into things like that. Her personal email address was used so irregularly that she usually had to reset the password just to log in. She had a MySpace, but it was old and she'd never used it. Nikki had set it up, she seemed to recall. She wondered if people were viewing it now she had her fifteen minutes of fame. They probably were. She contemplated changing the photo to something more recent, then decided against it.
The inbox had exploded, and Laurie read each one, a wry smile on her face. She pored over them all, marveling at the fervor she'd drummed up. They were all dead ends, of course. None of them led to Dennis, or anywhere. Poorly written, hastily thought up nonsense designed to wind up a desperate, silly girl. Or the few that genuinely thought they were helping, sending her after some hapless Dennis who'd probably never even been to Bali. More than a few emails simply contained pictures of cocks. One of them had the subject line 'Forget Dennis, I can give ya this'. Laurie forwarded this one onto Tam. Tam's reply, 'meh, I've had bigger', made Laurie wince, then giggle.
And then it arrived. The one email that made Laurie sit up and take notice.
"Hello Laurie. I think you're describing my husband. His name is Matthew Dennis Porter. He was in Bali in July on business. He goes there every year. I have not seen my husband since he went away. He never came back. If you have any information on his whereabouts then please, please contact the Cambridge police on [number]. Myself and Matthew's family are very worried about him."
"And you're sure, you're absolutely sure, that this was him?" the sergeant asked. Laurie nodded. He'd asked her before, and once before that. Of course she was sure. She swallowed hard, looked the officer in the eyes.
"That's him. That's Dennis."
"And you met him, when, on the twenty fifth, correct?"
Laurie shook her head. "No, the twenty third. The twenty fifth was when we hooked up."
"Ah yes," the sergeant said. He was in his fifties, a country type. He flicked open the magazine Laurie had brought with her. "This. This article. So, is this the full story?"
"Yeah, pretty much," Laurie said. The sergeant frowned.
"Listen, miss, I need to know," he said. "At this stage, you may be offering the last confirmed sighting of Matt Porter."
Laurie sighed. "It's like it says. We hooked up in the club, then later we went for a walk. We stood there, looking over the beach, looking up at the stars, and he kissed me. It was magical." She sniffed, wiped her eyes. "Is he really married?"
"I'm afraid so, ma'am," the sergeant said. He didn't seem sympathetic. Looking at her like she was a stupid little girl, Laurie thought. "His wife is very worried about him. Did Matt - Mr. Porter, tell you about his plans for the rest of the trip?"
"He said he was coming back to England on the twenty seventh," Laurie said. "I flew home on the twenty sixth. He said he'd call me when he was back."
"Well that certainly fits with the itinerary we've been given," the sergeant said, almost to himself.
Laurie fiddled with her hair. "Officer? Can you call him Dennis? Matt sounds so wrong."
The sergeant snorted. "Maybe you should think about telling me exactly what happened that night."
Laurie sighed. "Okay. We were at the club, then we went back to the hotel. Yes, we fucked, that's what you're asking isn't it?"
The sergeant went a bit red, then nodded. "Then what?"
"Listen," Laurie said. "I wouldn't try and track a guy down just cos of a kiss. It was good... no, it was great sex. It was phenomenal, life-changing sex. You know what I mean? The kind where you're both so emotionally drained afterwards that you can't even speak."
The sergeant's stony face suggested he had no idea. "And then he left?" he asked.
"No!" Laurie retorted. "Look, he wasn't wearing a wedding ring. I had no idea. But, look, then we went for a walk, and he kissed me, and I went back to the hotel, and I got my flight the next day, and the love rat never called me."
"Where was Mr. Porter when you left him?"
"Walking back to his hotel. We weren't in the same hotel. They were just nearby."
"And this was on the beach, correct?"
Laurie shook her head. "No, there's some cliffs, they overlook the beach. We walked around them. He was... oh fuck."
The sergeant was nodding. "Quite," he said. "Well it's the best lead we've got right now. I'll get someone to call the Bali police. Anything to stop Mrs. Porter from turning up here all hours of the day and night, anyway."
Laurie didn't think the sergeant should've said this out loud, but she kept quiet and played with her hair.
They found the body of Matthew Dennis Porter, broken and partially eaten, hidden in a crevice in a lagoon you could only reach by swimming to. He'd been washed there by the tide, the papers said. And what's more, he was Desperately Seeking Dennis. Word of this had leaked.
"But you wouldn't know anything about that, would you Tam?" Laurie asked.
"No, of course not," Tam said, sipping her coffee. She smiled brightly. "Sorry Dennis turned out to be a cheat and dead and stuff. I'm sure it must've been a shock."
"Oh, it's quite alright," Laurie told her. An elderly couple were staring at them suspiciously. "There's plenty more fish in the sea."
"Nice wording, Laurie," Tamsin said. Laurie coughed.
She had to go back to the police station, of course, and answer a few more questions. How many times did they have intercourse? Was there anybody suspicious around when she left Matthew? Did he seem suicidal? Just the once. Not that she could remember. No, definitely not.
Outside, there was a bit of a scene. Matthew Porter's widow, Victoria Porter, was heading into the police station just as Laurie exited.
"You!" Victoria screamed out, after a moment's pause. "I recognize you from the paper! You're the slut who killed my husband!"
"Mrs. Porter," one of the officers said, gently restraining the woman. "Please."
"I didn't kill your husband, Mrs. Porter," Laurie said softly. Her eyes shimmered.
"You as good as did!' Victoria Porter yelled. Her voice was shrill, harsh. "If he hadn't have been there, with you..."
"Mrs. Porter, please. Let's go inside," the officer said. Mrs. Porter pointed at Laurie and shrieked something. Nearby, a paparazzi's camera went off. It was on the front page the next day, of course, Laurie desperately covering her face, Mrs. Porter's rage framed central.
"People are going to think you
're fucking nuts," Tamsin said. "His funeral? Really?"
"Yes," Laurie replied quietly. She was getting sick of the same coffee shop. It felt like time for a change.
"Why?"
"I want to go."
"You're just asking for trouble," Tamsin told her.
"I'm not. It's the right thing to do."
"What about Victoria? How's that going to look?"
Laurie pushed that day's paper towards her. "Don't you remember this?" The headline read 'United In Grief' above a large picture of Victoria Porter stiffly hugging Laurie.
"Yeah, but even so," Tamsin replied. "You're pushing it. Can't you just walk away?"
"After this one thing," Laurie said. "Trust me."
The funeral was held in a church, even though neither of the Porters were religious. It felt right. Matthew's coffin sat at the front, while colleagues and friends eulogized him. Victoria Porter said her bit. Laurie thought Victoria was beginning to show, now. She wondered if other people knew yet. Victoria's hand occasionally strayed to her belly as she spoke, guarding the life growing inside her. Laurie half-listened to the service from the back. She saw the accusing, curious eyes on her. When it came to be time for the graveside committal, she slipped away.
She was back for the wake, though. In the Porters' house. Surrounded by loved ones. Whispering, gossiping, staring at her. Looking at her daggers, looking at Victoria with sympathy. Such a terrible tragedy. Always knew he hadn't just upped and left. Always feared the worst, did Victoria. Said his credit card hadn't been used. Always a bad sign.
Whispers, blame, grief. The mourners began to thin out, half-eaten cucumber sandwiches discarded on paper plates. Outside, the rain beat rhythm on the window panes. Not warm, now. Not like Bali. Every so often, Victoria glanced over at Laurie with an expression of angry tolerance. What a trooper, people said. What a saint. Laurie sat, in the window seat, drinking tea and observing.
Someone at the living room door spoke. "I'm off now, Victoria. Thank you for the lovely spread. Matt would've been proud. So proud. It was a great service. Call me if you need anything, Victoria."
Victoria thanked the person, and the door closed. They were alone. Wife and mistress. Alone, in silence. They sat there, drinking tea. The clock ticked. Five minutes passed, then ten, twenty, thirty. A full hour.
Victoria let out a sigh. Laurie coughed. Victoria looked up.
"You should've seen his face," Laurie said. She smiled slightly. "When I pushed him off the cliff, I mean."
Victoria sat bolt upright and stared at Laurie. "Good lord," she said.
"Oh, sorry," Laurie replied. "Too soon?"
Victoria snorted with laughter. "No, of course not. I'm just imagining it. That stupid, shocked, 'why me' expression, right? Oh, believe me, I saw it plenty of times during our marriage."
"I still can't believe it took them this long to find the pissing body," Laurie said. "All this press shit, all the paps. Imagine actually being famous. It must be hell."
"No doubt," Victoria said, stirring her tea. "Still, at least they did. I was worried for a while that I wouldn't be able to pay you. Would you have had to kill me too?"
Laurie laughed and shook her head. "No, of course not."
"Sorry. No offense meant. I just don't really know how a profession like yours works."
"I'm sure Tamsin would've covered the cost," Laurie said.
"Has she already paid her half?"
"Not yet. I'll be collecting tomorrow. You two really wanted him dead, didn't you? First time I've ever had a cheating spouse contract."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Normally these things have a bit more, er, gravity to them. No pun intended, no offense meant."
"None taken," Victoria said. She took a sip of tea. "It's nice to finally have a conversation with you. Sorry about all the screaming."
"It's fine," Laurie said. "Sorry I had to say I slept with him."
"Oh, you didn't then?"
Laurie was momentarily offended. "God no. Why would I? That was just bullshit. The sergeant seemed to want me to say it, so I did. He wasn't my type, I'm afraid."
"Good," Victoria said. "I'm glad. Not for my sake, yours. He wasn't a nice man."
"There are plenty of not nice men in the world," Laurie said. "One less now."
"Tamsin seemed to think you two were becoming friends," Victoria said. "Will you stay in touch?"
Laurie frowned, confused. "What? No, of course not. It was just business."
"She didn't know he was married, you know," Victoria said. "That's why she hated him as much as I did. She was just as much a victim of Matt as I was."
Laurie stood up. "With all due respect, Victoria," she said. "I don't actually care who knew what."
She walked over to the woman and the pair shook hands. "You're a funny one, Laurie," Victoria said. "I don't imagine I'll see you again, will I?"
"You should hope not to," Laurie said, not unkindly. "Have a nice life, Victoria."
Victoria went as if to say "you too" but instead replied with "Take care, Laurie."
Laurie left Victoria Porter in the living room, and exited the house. The second half of her fee would be coming through soon, but she knew she'd be long gone by then. It had been her first time in the media spotlight. She didn't like it. She always intended this to be her last job. She stopped, looked at her reflection in a car window. It was time to retire, perhaps. Meet someone, settle down, raise a family, get fat, get old, feel the knot of suspicion ball up in her chest when he got home late, smell the perfume on his collar, listen in on the secret phone calls. The suspicion, the lies, the unhappiness. Laurie laughed. Change her hair, her face a bit, nobody would recognize her. Nobody would remember her fifteen minutes of fame. Nothing would change. Nothing ever did.
IX - Blind Right