Heads I Win Tails You Lose. Lynne Fox
think I’ll take this one home and a couple more and give it some thought. Enrolment’s Tuesday, isn’t it?’
‘Yeah, so you’ve got time to decide.’
I notice Lily puts the art leaflet into her handbag.
‘Bye.’
‘Bye and thanks for helping me pick up.’
‘No sweat.’ and she was gone.
As I make my way home I play the encounter over in my mind. It’s the first time I’ve actually spoken with Lily. She strikes me as a naturally kind and helpful person, a little guileless perhaps but that should make her easier to manipulate. She’s definitely attractive; I can only hope that Barry will feel the same.
Tuesday evening comes round surprisingly soon and at six o’clock I’m standing in the college foyer, keeping watch for Lily. Fortunately, the foyer is crammed with posters and leaflets so I’m able to look busy rather than just aimlessly loitering.
It’s 6.45 before Lily arrives. She’s wearing a bright red tailored coat, the collar turned up against the chill wind, making a striking backdrop to her hair, strands of which lay coiled like copper wires across her shoulders, having escaped from where they had been tucked inside. She strides purposefully across the foyer and into the enrolment hall, her head held high, an unaffected elegance in her movement accentuated by her tall, slim build. Envy almost undoes me as I follow in her wake. I’ve always yearned to be taller, it’s an asset that seems to exude a commanding authority which is difficult to achieve when you constantly have to look up to people.
I hold back until Lily joins the short queue for enrolling in the art class, letting a couple of people join the line before me. As Lily completes her application form and turns to leave I deliberately catch her eye.
‘Hi. So you did decide on the watercolour course.’
Lily takes a second to register who I am.
‘Oh hi, yeah; my friend almost bullied me into it so it better be as much fun as she reckons or I’ll kill her!’
‘Too right; I’m hoping I haven’t made a mistake but the other things all seemed pretty heavy.’
‘Yeah, that’s what I thought.’
Lily looks at her watch,
‘I must be off. See you at class in January.’
‘Absolutely, see you there. Bye.’ I watch as Lily moves through the glass doors and out into the December night. I realise how much she reminds me of Addie, Matt’s girlfriend. She has the same unguarded openness of the innocent. Not the best asset for survival.
Today at college has been somewhat irksome, my afternoon class more interested in the latest football results than learning about Byzantine art so, despite getting home early, I’m not in the best of moods when there’s a gentle tap at my door. I know who it is; Mrs Lewis, my neighbour from across the hall. Widowed a few years ago, she’s a tiny, fragile sparrow of a woman, constantly in need of reassurance. To take the edge off my annoyance I take a quick swig of the Cabernet Sauvignon I’ve just opened and go to the door, my smile plastered on with such determination it feels more like rigor mortis.
Despite being small myself I’m quite a bit taller than Mrs Lewis who resembles a prematurely aged seven year old, so as I open the door I automatically look down to her level and am startled to see she’s flanked by two broad bodies. Raising my eyes I know immediately that these are police officers even though they’re not in uniform. Something about their demeanour singles them out; that self-assured arrogance of people in authority.
The young one on the left I don’t know but the other is as familiar as my own reflection.
‘Hello my dear, these gentlemen are police officers, I was just coming in the front door myself when they arrived so I said I’d show them to your apartment. One always likes to help the police when one can.’ She beams up at both men in turn.
The one on her left coughs quietly, ‘Thank you for your assistance, Mrs Lewis; we can take it from here. Miss Thompson, may we come in?’
I really don’t want them in my apartment, invading my privacy and contaminating my personal space.
‘What’s this about officer?’
‘Perhaps we could just come in for a moment?’ the other one interrupts, pushes at the door and whispers ‘We don’t want to give the neighbours a floor show, do we?’ He smiles slightly and glances towards Mrs Lewis.
‘Very well.’ I reluctantly stand back and hold open the door.
‘Thank you again, Mrs Lewis.’ The young one, as he enters, gently closes the door in Mrs Lewis’ disappointed face.
I lead the way into my lounge and deliberately stand with my back to the window through which the bright afternoon winter sun is shining, making it difficult for the officers to see my face clearly.
‘Is it bad news?’ I conjure a slight, tearful tremble in my voice.
‘No, nothing like that, we just need to ask you a few questions. Please don’t be alarmed.’
I walk slowly from the back of the sofa and sit facing the officers, making a small gesture with my hand, indicating for them to sit on the seats opposite. ‘I’m sorry,’ I manage to produce a weak smile, ‘it’s just I haven’t had any dealings with the police before so I just assumed…’
‘Perfectly understandable.’ The young officer leans forward in a friendly manner, his forearms resting on his knees.
The older man is still standing. He has an air of bored efficiency as though he has done this sort of thing so many times before, which I suppose he probably has.
‘Miss Thompson, I’m Detective Chief Inspector Munroe and this is Detective Constable Wilson. We’re hoping you can help us with our enquiries.’
‘Enquiries? Into what?’
DC Wilson holds out a small plastic bag. He’s tall, clean-shaven with highly polished shoes and an air of newness about him, like he’d just been taken down from a shelf in Harrods. ‘Is this your pen, Miss?’
I take the bag and turn it over in my hands. ‘Yes, it is or rather it’s my propelling pencil. I didn’t know I’d lost it. Where did you find it?’
‘Would you tell us where you were Tuesday lunch-time last week, around one o’clock?’
‘Why?’
‘Please, just answer the question, Miss, it will be quicker for all of us.’ The Chief Inspector, still standing, saunters by where I’m sitting on the sofa, so close that his coat brushes my arm and I can smell a faint whiff of pipe tobacco. The image it recalls is so vivid, for a second it takes my breath away. Oblivious to my discomfort, he continues past me to stand looking out of the window.
‘Such a long time ago but … lunchtime … I would probably have been in the park. I am most lunch times.’
Chief Inspector Munroe continues. ‘Did you see anything unusual when you were there?’
‘What do you mean by unusual?’
‘Anyone loitering about or acting suspiciously?’
‘No, I don’t think so; it was very quiet. Why do you ask?’
DC Wilson answers.
‘A man was found dead in the park last week.’
‘Really? How dreadful. I didn’t know.’
DCI Munroe turns from the window toward me, a look of scepticism on his face.
‘I’m