Chapter 18 #2
My self-righteous fury lasted a few streets.
If you were imagining Riz lived in some lovely red-brick mansion block or converted Victorian townhouse, then I direct you to my previous comments about Salisbury being overrated in terms of aesthetics.
No, Riz lived on a new-build estate with all the charm of a tractor reversing down a motorway.
Winding cul-de-sacs paved in a yellow stone, with faux-Victorian three-storey houses jostling for space on sections that surrounded us.
Anaemic trees attempted to grow on the verges, and the lawns were too small.
Like most new-build estates, it struck me as off somehow, the ratio of street to house to green and the depth of the buildings back from the road didn’t work.
Simon walked a few steps behind me. I could feel the aggravation emanating from him. “The back door, we should go through there,” he whispered. I was too annoyed to even make a joke about gay men and the rear option.
I grunted in response. We slipped through the gate at the side of the house and into the small back garden. Riz’s place was a semi-detached red-brick two-storey property. The house that it joined onto had another floor on top, giving Riz’s the look of being a wing to this grander home.
There was a plain white door at the back, which Simon opened with the key. We at least had both remembered to wear gloves, though I was tempted to ask why Simon was bothering, as his prints would already be all over the place.
We slipped into Riz’s surprisingly spacious kitchen. The various lights around the neighbourhood cast a slight glow into the room, so you could pick out details among the shadows if you tried.
“You turned off your phone, right?” Simon said, conscious of the location data.
I nodded. “Back in Lilbury.”
He pulled out a small torch from his pocket and held it in the air. He waved it across the room, with the beam pointing towards the floor. In one corner were a pile of boxes and assorted household items all piled high.
“His parents have started cleaning the place out then,” said Simon.
“Where does he keep his paperwork?”
“There is an office upstairs.”
Great. Offices. I had history with those.
We made our way to the front of the house and up the stairs.
Riz’s home had white walls and laminate floorings.
His choice in décor was too plain for my taste.
Maybe he’d been too busy to decorate. At the top of the stairs, the door to the master bedroom was open.
Simon paused for a second and looked in.
The king-sized bed had been stripped and the bedding piled in boxes next to it.
Whatever Simon was thinking about, I didn’t want to interrupt. The passionate nights with Riz in that bed? Waking up in each other’s arms? My judgemental side instantly thought of all the other men Riz had probably had in there as well.
I opened the door to the right of us and could just about make out that I had found the office. I felt for a desk of some sort in the tiny bit of light from the windows. “Simon,” I hissed after a minute. “A little help, please?”
The beam from his torch was over my shoulder a few seconds later. He cleared his throat. It seemed to be a tic he did to calm himself down when he was upset.
“This is stupid, we don’t even know what we’re looking for.”
“Yeah, yeah, you’ve made that quite known, thank you,” I said, trying to ignore him.
I opened the bottom drawer. You’d think people would put their most important things in the top drawer.
But that’s where nosey buggers would look first. That drawer revealed several piles of papers and various keys, old SIM cards, a few photos, and the ephemera one would expect in a home office.
I handed Simon the papers. “Shuffle through.”
“What am I looking for?”
I gave him a look. “You can stop playing dumb now. You’re a spy, you figure it out.”
The glare he gave me was something I felt more than saw. What? We both knew I was right.
He did as he was asked. “There’s some paperwork from the hospital. Various forms about taking a leave of absence for the election campaign,” he said. “His old hospital in Edinburgh. The Royal Lothian.” He scanned the paper for details.
I opened another drawer. And that’s when everything fell apart.
Every bit of distance I’d tried to keep from this predicament that I’d found myself in.
The story I’d told myself was that I was doing this to help Simon.
To help Nigella. Because Simon wasn’t really my friend, but he was friends with other people in the village, and that’s why I needed to do this.
Because the people in Lilbury had stood by me when my life fell apart after Tarquin.
They’d accepted my pleas that I knew nothing about what he’d done without so much as a second thought.
So, my reticence about Simon, about any feelings that might linger, about how we constantly rubbed each other up the wrong way, was put on the backburner.
But now, I was involved. There was almost irrefutable evidence that someone, somewhere, had me in their plans. Just as much as Riz, Guy, and whoever else was involved – and it was staring at me from a piece of paper.
I grabbed it and stuffed it into the pocket of my jacket.
“You found something?” Simon asked.
“Let’s go,” I said tersely.
“But we’ve only just started—”
“I said, let’s go,” I snapped and left the room.
Downstairs, I waited for Simon in the kitchen.
As soon as I saw him coming, still confused, I left the house and walked back across the garden towards my car.
Simon took a few seconds to lock the back door and then joined me as I walked through the streets.
My head was buzzing. How? How did I know these people? How did this involve anyone from my old life? There was no connection. I knew no one from Simon’s life, or Guy’s, but there had to be a connection. A … connection.
I spun around as we reached my car.
“What is this connection? The one Jed mentioned.”
Simon shook his head. “It’s nothing.”
“For fuck’s sake, Simon, enough! Don’t make me go back to Jed and shake him until he tells me. I will. I’ve had enough. You asked me for my help, and you’ve been hiding things the entire time.”
Simon looked heavenwards.
“It’s private, okay? It’s nothing to do with this.”
My turn to call bullshit. “Fine, I’m going to talk to Jed first thing tomorrow. Maybe you should stay home.” I opened the door to the car, climbed in, and started the engine.
“Wait, Arden, no.” Simon got in beside me. “Okay.” He took a deep breath. “There is something. But it’s … it’s between me, Jed, and someone else.”
“Who?” But I knew the answer. I’d known it since the day in the hospital. Maybe before. Maybe when Simon had shaken his head at me when I’d first moved to Lilbury and told me there was more to certain people than meets the eye.
Simon gulped loudly. “Guy.”