Thursday, October 10, 2013
What on earth am I going to tell Paula? The waiter pours my coffee. I thank him and turn back to my notebook.
Today, Stuart´s really driven me nuts with his negativity. What would John Peck do if he were in my shoes? He taught me to be observant and cautious, but not to be patient. That´s something you either have or you don´t.
It´s still half an hour before Paula gets off work and joins me. I question the reasons that led me to accept meeting her. I want to see her, but what I´m doing isn´t right. It isn´t professional. Stuart´s words keep drilling into my brain.
“Nothing! We have nothing! The only woman who could give us any information about Parker is hospitalized, in coma. She may not get through the night, and we still have NOTHING! Not a print, not a clue, not even a suspect.”
Worst of all is that he´s right. We don´t have a thing. Though I want to be positive and remember that when this happens, there is a moment when all comes out into the light. Suddenly and when you least expect it.
On the other hand, I´m thankful we have nothing; it keeps my mind off Ana, it helps to keep me from overthinking an issue that hurts me deeply, deeper than anything has hurt before. It keeps me going.
I go over page by page, reading the key words about each of the people I interviewed at the agency, over and over, starting with Samantha Hemsley. I know that behind her profound sadness caused by Parker´s violent death, there´s a stormy past that´s probably related, in some way, to the girl in the picture on her desk.
Samantha is not a suspect. She appears to be a cold ambitious woman, yet she is the director of the agency, and the way she talked about Josh, there didn´t seem to be any past problems or contentions. I could tell she was terribly upset.
Parker´s assistants, Lisa and Nicole, came across as helpful and seemed grief stricken also. Lisa seemed to be less straightforward and uncooperative, she really didn´t know what to say. She mentioned that Josh was a strict boss, disciplined and a perfectionist. Yet he always tried to make things easier for those who worked with him. Nicole couldn´t stop crying and could barely speak. The only negative thing she mentioned about Parker was that he was a bit of a maniac when it came to order and other things, but that it had been a pleasure to work for him all these years. Neither of them mentioned anything about being harassed, sexually or otherwise, by the famous idea man. Only Paula Hawkins. Paula, of the three, the one I found to be most attractive, was the perfect victim for Josh. I want to know more about the fling they had, years ago, even though it might not be relevant to the investigation.
I scrutinize other names and positions in my notes, but none of them are suspects. They have alibis.
I was careful to observe every man in the office, it wasn´t possible for any of them to have killed Parker; he was bigger and stronger than any of them, and I doubt any of the scrawny guys I saw, could have broken the glass partition. It had to have been someone with great strength. Or maybe two... That was it! Maybe there was more than one.
There´s an item I am missing... a detail... As I sit nervously taping on the table top with my fingers, the phone rings. It´s Ana. I ignore it. I keep staring closely at my notes. The phone rings again. This time Ana´s name doesn´t appear, so I pick up quickly.
“Detective Tischmann.”
“Always so serious, Paul.”
I feel pleased by that familiar voice. I can´t see myself in the mirror, but I bet my face just lit-up.
“Master John Peck! I was thinking about you a couple of seconds ago.”
“To what do I owe the honor?”
“To my assistant, he´s a disaster. And to a case.”
“The Parker case? The idea man?” Asks John at the other end of the line, reading my mind. I´ve always shared a subtle connection with old Peck.
“I´ve been following the case, boy. A bitch of a case. It´s in the news at all hours.”
“There are no clues, not a print... we have nothing John. As if the killer were invisible.” I tell him laughing about how absurd that must have sound.
“The murderer is clever.”
“And very strong. He broke a thick glass partition and slit the guy´s throat with a shard of glass.” I whisper. I don´t want to upset anyone at the café with talk about murder while they take a break.
“Remember something, Tischmann. Many times, things are not what they appear to be. You are looking for a strong looking man, am I right? Of course I´m right!”
“Well, I was just thinking that the murder might have involved two or more people.”
“It´s possible, but I doubt it. Look for one culprit, one alone. And don´t be thrown off by his physical appearance. Don´t let yourself be misguided by what seems obvious.”
“it´s as if you were reading my mind, boss. How have you been?”
“Hanging in there. I must admit I´m bored. I miss the action. It´s not the same, being there, as merely putting things on paper.”
“I´m glad to hear you voice, John”
“Same here, boy. I´ll call again soon and you´ll see, you will have found something. You always find something. Killers are flesh and bone and their minds are not perfect. They are sinister. And sinister always comes to light.”
Sinister always comes to light; I repeat old Peck´s mysterious words under my breath as I hang up.
18:05hrs.
Miss Hawkins walks through the door of the cafeteria, right on time as I expected, looking out for me. I wave my hand at her and as she approaches I signal for her to sit in front of me.
This time she´s not wearing the usual tight pencil skirt, showing off her long slender legs. She`s wearing tight fitting black jeans and a white shirt with a provocative neckline and an elegant sport jacket. She walks elegantly on her stilettos, approaches the counter and orders something from a waiter. She turns to smile at me, approaches and pats me gently on the shoulder. I feel my heartbeat racing. This woman brings something out in me that I didn´t even know existed until now.
“Hello, Paul.”
She looks happy. A marked contrast to the bereaved woman I saw yesterday.
“You are looking well, Paula.”
“I got promoted” she responds coquettishly as she plays with a wisp of hair. She looks out the window, lowers her eyes and looks at me again; “are there any news?”
“I´m afraid not. Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary?”
“Do you want me to look for something? I mean... do you want me to look into things at the office? In case I find something out?”
“Of course, Paula. That could help us a lot with the investigation.”
“I´ll do it.” She answers enthusiastically.
“Tell me about that promotion.”
“I was given Josh´s position. Not that I like it. Actually, it sort of scares me a bit. Nothing is the same without him, you know? I don´t know if I´m up to par.”
“Of course you are!” I try to cheer her.
“Thanks.”
She smiles and that smile lights up the whole place. The waiter approaches with a natural orange juice and is stunned by Paula´s charm.
“Do you know if there´s someone else who might have aspired to Josh´s position at the agency?”
“No. Everyone has their job, or jobs, many more important than his, though not as glamorous, famous or rewarded. You don´t think I´m a suspect, do you?” she asks, amused.
“Meaning no disrespect, but do you think those skinny arms could even break a coffee cup?” I laugh, though I know I shouldn´t.
“The funeral is tomorrow.” She informs me lowering her eyes.
Sadness returns, so does melancholy. This woman loved him. Deep down inside, she still loves him. I find this curious, considering she only had a couple of dates and a one-night-fling with him; or so she said. There is also this thing of the sexual harassment on the night of the murder; it´s odd.
“I know. And Charlotte is still in a coma.” I grumble.
“It´s horrible. A week ago, they were both alive and well... and happy. Their whole life ahead of them... and now...”
“That´s life, I guess. It can fall apart around you in a blink.”
“I know, believe me, I know...” She answers looking at me intently. I want to tell her that I know the feeling well. I want to tell her that on the day I met her I caught my wife in bed with another man.” I have to go.” She says suddenly. Paula Hawkins is unpredictable.
“Would you like another glass of juice?” I don´t want her to go, I`d like to hold her back a while, maybe ask her to dinner.
I look at her delicate, sculptured hands. She´s not wearing any rings, so I infer she´s not married or engaged. I´m glad I noticed. “I guess someone´s expecting you back at home.”
She shakes her head in denial, somewhat sadly. She finishes her juice and shrugs.
At that precise moment, my phone rings, breaking the magic that is building between Paula and me. It´s Stuart.
“What have you got?” I ask impatiently looking out the cafeteria window.
“Charlotte is dead.”
“Shit.”