“Hi, sweetie,” Lindsey said, wrapping her arms around me.
I hugged her tightly and realised how terribly I’d missed her lately. I was relieved that we’d buried the hatchet.
She crouched down next to Tim and placed her hands on his cheeks. “Hello munchkin.” Her eyes sparkled as she looked up at me. “Tim is starting to look more and more like his father.”
I looked at my son and felt a warm feeling growing inside. “I know, he’s almost the spitting image of him, right? It feels ever so good to keep a little piece of Oliver with me this way. Tim, will you give Lindsey a hug?” I asked him, and he flung himself into her arms.
She rose and squeezed my arm. “You look good, Jen.”
“Thanks,” I responded, feeling grateful we were starting with a clean slate.
Tim was pulling at my sleeve. “Yes darling. We’re going to the playground.”
Lindsay tucked her arm through mine as we wound our way towards the playground in the middle of the Vondelpark, surrounded by the excited chatter from birds roosting in the flowering trees, while Tim sped ahead of us on his push-bike. I made sure to keep him within my sight at all times. Ever since Dan had called me saying that he also suspected something illicit was going on at Mason & McGant, I’d been on guard. Upon arrival at the sandpit, Tim jumped off his vehicle, flung it aside and immediately picked up one of the spades. “Gentle with that bike, Tim,” I said admonishingly. “We don’t want to break it now do we?”
Lindsey and I sat down on the stone verge enclosing the sandpit, which was filled with young children messing about. She yawned loudly.
“Late one last night?” I asked kindly as I draped Tim’s and my summer coat over a railing.
“Not exactly,” Lindsey answered. “Some idiot in my street felt the need to start drilling through the walls at ten in the morning on a Saturday,” she said with an utterly serious face.
I flashed her a scornful look.
She got the message. “Oh, right. I forgot. You think ten o’clock is late,” she said and started laughing.
I laughed too and then changed the subject. “I truly appreciate you wanting to meet up with us in a playground.” I rolled my eyes. “These weekends with Tim by myself are loooong.”
“I’m sure they are,” she said, her eyes fixed on something in the distance and for a moment I thought I saw a sad look flash across her face. I realised I’d been preoccupied with myself for the last few weeks. “So how have you been doing? Have you had any interesting dates lately?” I asked, clasping my hands in excitement.
Lindsey’s eyes strayed to the sandpit, where Tim had started building a sandcastle with another child. A cool breeze blew in, pushing a string of clouds across the sun and it suddenly felt five degrees cooler.
“I’m back with Paul again.”
It took me moment to process the information. “But, er …” I struggled for words. “Wasn’t Paul the guy who turned out to be married?” I blurted out with a snort, but instantly regretted it. “Sorry, that was inconsiderate of me,” I backpedalled. But I was naturally wondering what had made Lindsey decide to get back involved with him.
“He’s left his wife. So now we’re seeing each other again,” she said curtly and shrugged, avoiding my gaze.
Surely Lindsey didn’t fall for this nonsense? They all left their wives, only to fall back into their warm, forgiving arms again after a few weeks. This was completely out of character – Lindsey was the impersonation of a self-confident not-to-be-messed-with woman. “Is he really going to divorce his wife?” I asked, with a hint of misgivings in my voice.
Lindsey shrugged. “They’re on a break,” she said, sidestepping the question. “He needs time to figure out what he wants.” She loosened her hair and her long tresses fell in a wave, over her shoulder.
“I see,” I said. As an awkward silence fell I closed my eyes, practising self-restraint and biting my tongue. I was grappling with a feeling of ambivalence – to support my friend on the one hand whilst knowing exactly how it feels to be ‘that other person’, the betrayed wife.
“Do you really think it’s a good idea?” I asked, breaking the silence with trepidation.
She shrugged again. “A good idea, a good idea,” she repeated crabbily. “I don’t know. Maybe I just don’t want to think about it that much. Being with him feels good for now and that suffices.” She smoothed her hair over her shoulder with one hand.
“But, sweetie,” I said, turning to her and laying a hand on her thigh. “You deserve someone who isn’t playing around and messing with your feelings.”
She shook her head and kept her gaze averted. “He’s not playing around.”
“I mean a guy who is really committed to you. Not a guy who cheats on his wife and embarks on an affair while on a break from her. You deserve someone who puts you on a pedestal and wants to be involved in a relationship devoid of mistrust and self-interest, an honest man who is eager to spend his life with you and …” I paused for a moment and then tentatively added, “maybe start a family together.”
“Who says I want all that?” Lindsey said disgruntled, now looking me in the eye. “Are you sure you’re not projecting, Jennifer? And by the way, you just said it’s really tough to take care of a child over the weekend, remember?”
I turned away and drew in a sharp breath.
“You’ve heard about the research that shows people are less satisfied with their lives after having children, right?” Lindsey added with a hint of scorn in her voice.
I ignored her rhetorical question and raised my eyebrows. “Maybe I am projecting.”
Tim brought me a cake made of sand and I took an imaginary bite. “Yummy … Don’t go too far, pumpkin,” I warned as he trotted back.
It remained silent for a moment before Lindsey spoke again. “Not everyone finds a responsible guy like Oliver who wants to settle down and live the quiet life while raising a family. Besides, who knows … maybe I’m not the girl for the whole white-picket-fence life. Perhaps I’m the type longing for a different kind of relationship,” she said, pulling her long, finely woven cardigan tightly around her. “I’m freezing. I’ll go get us something to drink. What can I get you?”
I was trying to make out how to respond to her musings, but decided to let the subject rest. “How about we have glass of wine? I heard the Pinot Grigio is really good here.” Some alcohol might ease the tense atmosphere, I thought to myself. “It’s five o’clock somewhere in the world,” I quipped.
Lindsey frowned. “Not for me, thank you. I just finished breakfast.”
I tried to laugh away her disapproval. “Make it a cappuccino then.”
Lindsey nodded towards the sandpit. “Apple juice for Tim?”
“Thanks,” I replied, watching her as she strolled off towards the entrance of the restaurant, her high heels clattering on the cobblestone path and her long coat billowing in the wind.
While she was gone, I thought about how I could address the delicate matter of her deserving someone better than this Paul guy, but ultimately decided to refrain – I was afraid it would lead to another argument.
Lindsey came back carrying the drinks on a tray and didn’t appear to be sulking anymore. She placed the cappuccino on a little step next to me, took her coat off and walked up to Tim with the apple juice. She let him take a few sips through the straw and then returned to sit with me on the verge of the sand pit.
She linked her arm through mine, pulling me closer. “I’m so happy we’re back in contact again. It was hard on us seeing you in such bad shape,” she said, referring to the other night with Frederique and Karen.
“Was it?” I responded and took a sip of my cappuccino, then stretched my legs in the sand and closed my eyes.
Lindsey pressed on. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you didn’t appear to be thinking straight. You were imagining things that weren’t really there, with that law firm and everything. I’m so relieved you’ve finally managed to let go of this conspiracy theory thing.”
My eyes sprang open. Since that phone call from Dan the day before yesterday, my life had been turned upside down yet again.
Lindsey seemed to have noticed my lack of response and flashed me a look with a mixture of desperation and disapproval. “Argh, please tell me you did let go, Jennifer.” There was a sharpness in her voice. “You do realise Oliver’s death was an accident? I don’t think I can take this nonsense for much longer.”
I turned away. “No. Well, yes, but …” I began but didn’t finish my sentence – I seemed unable to find the right words.
Lindsey frowned. “But what?”
“I received an unexpected phone call from Dan a few days ago,” I said, now looking Lindsey in the eye.
“What?” she asked. “Dan was the guy from that date with the sour ending!”
I nodded weakly, smoothing down the hem of my skirt.
She rolled her eyes. “Okay, so he wanted to see you again?”
I bit my nails, keeping my eyes on Tim. “Do you remember I told you about the DVDs I found on which I saw Oliver with er …?” I halted.
Lindsey took a swig of her cappuccino. “Of course. You were devastated.”
“Well, Dan told me he found the CDs and viewed them too. And it doesn’t stop there – similar recordings were made of all paralegals who started working at the firm over the last couple of years. Nude dancers, prostitutes, alcohol, drugs – the whole shebang.”
Lindsey ran a hand through her long, blond satin hair. Her eyes were fixed on something in the distance. “Jen, I don’t know what to say.” She sounded deflated, as if I was a lost cause.
Tim came scampering up to us. “I want juice,” he declared, extending his sand-covered hands impatiently to the bottle.
I didn’t have the energy to correct him. “Let Mummy help you.” I put the straw in his mouth at a slightly tilted angle and he started sucking vigorously. “We’ll save the rest for later,” I said after a few moments, pulling the straw out of his mouth again. He licked his lips with his tongue, wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his jumper and tottered back to his sandcastle.
I took another sip of my cappuccino, which had cooled off considerably – as had the atmosphere – and launched into my story. I told Lindsey about everything that Dan and I had concluded from the documents. How the suspects in the four cases, which initially appeared to be open-and-shut, were unexpectedly exculpated, and that both Mason & McGant and the DFI appeared to be involved in some form of bribery.
Lindsey had a pensive look as she let it all sink in. “Hun, you need to back out of this,” she whispered. “I have a bad feeling about it.”
“You still don’t believe me?” I asked, slightly affronted. I’d presumed these recent developments would have removed her scepticism.
“I really don’t know who or what to believe anymore,” she responded evasively.
I ignored her comment, but it did hurt. “You don’t actually think Dan would bring all of this up and reach out to me if he wasn’t convinced something was wrong? He’s jeopardising his job, perhaps even his entire career.” I couldn’t quite grasp how she didn’t appreciate the significance of all this new information.
She shrugged her shoulders. “Be that as it may, you barely know the guy – why do you blindly trust him? He’s a lawyer at Mason & McGant – how do you know for sure he’s not involved in this bribery thing? It’s anyone’s guess what secrets he may be harbouring. You need to be careful Jennifer, you could be getting yourself into seriously hot water here.”
Lindsey’s words triggered my doubts in Dan all over again – there was obviously some truth in what she said. Maybe he was trying to frame me and this was all part of a bigger plan to prevent me from going public with incriminating information regarding Mason & McGant. But if that were true, why would he have suggested to comb through those case reports with me? Memories of his soft, inviting lips on mine came flooding back, making me feel sick.
“You really have to abandon this search, Jennifer. To be honest, I’m growing tired of this charade. You must hear how absurd this all sounds?” She stared at me with a mixture of vexation and pity and, although perhaps unbeknown to Lindsey, I felt we were reaching a crossroads – a point in our lives which would either bring us closer or forever force us apart. “An international, renowned law firm maintaining a clandestine relationship with mega crooks, and a government organisation – the DFI – wilfully cooperating. Come on, these things happen in films, not in real life.”
The feathery clouds had lifted, bringing out the sun again and making the air feel pleasantly warm. “I know, it’s inconceivable,” I agreed. “And yet all the evidence is pointing towards this.”
Lindsey folded her arms. “I said it before and I’ll say it again – you need to go to the police with this. It’s the only sensible thing to do.”
Her arguments were undeniably sound and valid. In my mind I went back to the conversation I’d had with Detective Armstrong. With a great deal of pain and effort, he’d been prepared to lend an ear to my argument and had even taken the documents from me. But he’d made no bones about the fact that he’d never reopen the case.
“I recently paid the Amsterdam Investigation Department a visit, but they didn’t believe me.”
Lindsey flashed me a look of scepticism. “Well, Jennifer. Maybe you should have faith in their judgment – assessing whether there is foul play involved in an accident is what these people do on a day-to-day basis. They inspect all the clues, the forensic evidence and then make an informed decision,” she stated as if I was utterly clueless. “If you will, you can compare it to a situation where you as a doctor determine that a little wound I have isn’t inflamed and will heal by itself over time, while I, someone who’s never studied medicine, claim I need antibiotics,” she said with an air of smugness.
“That’s a ridiculous comparison,” I retorted, but to my exasperation the analogy was quite striking.
“Whatever you say, Jennifer,” she said resolutely, and finished her cappuccino with a gulp. “I am so done with this. I’ve said my piece, it’s up to you. If you intend to continue this nonsense, fine by me, but don’t expect me to stick around while you rip your whole life to pieces.” Lindsey leaped up, tying her pink coat tightly round her slim waist.
My mouth slackened. “Where are you going?”
“I’m heading off,” she announced, her jaw set. “I have a raft of things to do over the weekend.” But we both knew it was just an excuse.
I jumped up, a feeling of dread welling up in the pit of my stomach. “Lin, please don’t leave like this,” I pleaded, gently laying my hand on her arm, but I felt deep down that something had changed, the little invisible thread that connected us had snapped.
She brushed my hand away. “I love you, Jennifer – you know that,” she declared, her emerald green eyes gazing at me in an indefinable fashion. “But I’m not going to sit around and watch you putting your life at risk.” She gestured towards Tim who was blithely playing with a digger. “Why can’t you just enjoy your beautiful son, your top job, your gorgeous house – you have the whole world at your feet.” Lindsey narrowed her eyes. “We’re not all as fortunate as you are, you know. And as for the things in life you can’t explain, try to take them on the chin.”
I had to restrain myself from clinging to Lindsey in desperation, seeking her approval. “I have no choice but to do this, Lin, I simply must. Not knowing what happened to Oliver that day is eating me up inside. Can’t you understand that?”
“Oliver had an accident,” she said, mouthing the words slowly and deliberately. “A terrible accident, Jennifer. You need to let it go.”
I grabbed her hand and begged, “Please,” but she was relentless and pulled away.
“Tim!” Lindsey called out and blew him a kiss. “Bye, pumpkin.”
Tim looked up in surprise and then carried on digging unperturbed in the sand.
Lindsey put on her sunglasses. “I’ll see you, okay?” She didn’t wait for an answer, but turned on her heel and strode out of the playground, her stilettos clicking on the cobbles. She didn’t look back.
I tried to stifle the tears that sprung up in my eyes, resulting in a lump in my throat. Suddenly I felt Tim’s warm hand touching my arm. “Mummy, Lindsey gone?”
“Yes, baby,” I replied, quickly wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. “But that’s okay. How about if Mummy helps you with some digging?”
He gave a whoop of delight and started pulling me towards the sandpit by my hand.
When we arrived back home about an hour later, my eyes immediately fell on an item on the doormat.
Every muscle in my body went rigid as I drew in a sharp breath. I heard Tim babbling something to me as he carelessly trod over the note, but my ears were ringing and his words whooshed past me.
The letters dancing over the paper were of such a large font that I was able to read the message without bending down and picking it up.
‘I SAID: Don’t stick your nose into other people’s affairs.’
Every nerve in my body was tingling as I stormed into the living room, jerked open the chest of drawers and starting flinging out all the papers. Seconds later I found the note I’d safely stowed away since it was ‘delivered’ not long ago at the practice. I held it up in the air with trembling hands, angling it so that the light fell on the words. The colourful, decorative font was a dead ringer for the one used in today’s note.
When I’d received the first message at home I’d dismissed it and tried to convince myself it wasn’t intended for me or that it was a stupid prank from some kid in the neighbourhood. As for the shattered window in the practice – that could have been the work of a disgruntled patient.
But this time I knew without a trace of doubt that all these threats had been sent intentionally to me. Someone out there was watching my every move and warned me to stop digging.