Sunday 13 March 2011

Caught in a Lie by Peta

"Officer just ask my wife, she can confirm everything I have told you." He said squeezing my hand till it hurt.

She tried not to react to the pain. The policeman’s icy blue eyes held hers.

‘Yes Sergeant, I can verify what Mike has told you. He was at home with me last night, all night.”

“So Mrs Johnson, who do you think might have taken the car, given there are no signs of breaking and entering?”

“I have no idea. I was not aware the car was missing until you knocked on the door.”

There was a stony silence. Sergeant Manning, at least I think that was his name, looked from Mike to me and back. It was impossible to read him. I could feel a hot flush rising, the last thing I needed. The policeman would surely take a reddening of the face as a sign of some sort of guilt. Finally he spoke.

“Very well. I will complete my report. It is highly likely that we will need to speak to you again during the course of the investigation. Please do not touch or use the vehicle until our forensic people give the all clear.”

He turned abruptly and head off down the path to the street frontage.

Mike released the pressure on my hand and retreated to the darkness of the interior. The cool of the house was a welcome relief. It had been sweltering for days and I was over it. This incident was the last thing my frayed nerves needed.

“So Mike, tell me what this is all about.”

“Not now Lydia. I have things to do.” He was heading to his study.

“I think they can wait. I want an explanation and I want it now.”

Mike spun on his heels, turning back to me suddenly.

“It’s pretty obvious what happened isn’t it? I ran over that bastard and left him for dead. Problem is he didn’t die, did he, and now I am for it. This is all your fault you bitch.

The hatred in his eyes was spilling out like a lava flow. I stepped back putting more distance between us.

“Mike, what are you talking about? Who was this guy?”

“Oh come on Lydia. Cut the crap. The game’s up. You’ve been caught out. Why don’t you tell me how long this has been going on?”

Mike grabbed me, holding both my arms firmly with a monster grip. Staring into my eyes, searching for answers.

“For god’s sake let go of me, you’re hurting me. And I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t lie to me woman.” His breath was hot on my cheeks, a mixture of late morning coffee and stale cigarettes. He pushed me back onto the sofa, I landed heavily.

“I swear to you Mike, I don’t know and I’ve never heard of Jason Moore before this morning.”

“How do you explain this then?” Mike reached into his jacket pocket, retrieving a piece of paper. He threw it down on the coffee table. It was a photo of me with a man. I picked it up and looked at Mike.

“So what’s your story now?” he said softly.

“Mike, I have no idea where you got this or what you thought was going on but this is Malcolm Barrow. I told you I was seeing when you were in the US.”

“Malcolm Barrow? Your half brother?” The colour drained completely from Mike’s face. “Malcolm Barrow. So who the hell is Jason Moore?”

4 comments:

Scriveners said...

Peta

A really snappy little story with neat twists and turns. A great sentence: "The hatred in his eyes was spilling out like a lava flow."

A good read with a dynamic flow.

Gordon

Unknown said...

Heather says:

Peta, as always I enjoy the drama of your stories. You should write more and more drama and crime fiction! The plots are interesting and the turn of phrase compelling -what more do you need!?

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