If Harry's father
hadn't been a large enough handful to contend with, it must have been his
afternoon for problematical people. After
Harry's father had left, he actually escorted him to the door to make sure he
left; Harry had sat back down and put his feet on the desk.
Angela was next, and
Harry suspected she had waited outside until his father had left.
She sensibly knocked on
the door and let herself in. Harry had
considered getting up but the knock on the door told him it was someone he
knew. If it was not, they would be
crashing through the door at full tilt, and in his condition, there was
probably nothing he could do about it.
She put her head in the
door and leaned against the door jamb.
Maybe his assessment of her had fallen short of the mark, that she might
not be complicit...
Except, she was in his
office, talking to him, after undoubtedly realising she had made a mistake when
they had spoken that morning.
“How’s the case coming
along?”
And there it was. Not directly asked this morning, but now it
was out there.
“Sadly I’m greatly behind
on the paperwork.” He held up the thin file that Corinne had put
together. “Pages missing, details omitted, work to be done.”
She came in and shut
the door behind her. “Do you think it’s
a good idea getting back to work so soon?
I mean, last night you looked pretty beat up.”
She had injected just
enough concern in her tone to catch Harry’s attention.
“The villains don't
take time off to be sick, and I’ve been missing for so long, I’m not sure where
I’m at. To what do I owe the honour of his visit?”
“I was hoping you could
give me an update. I’ve seen both your
sister, and some other woman in here and they had a few interesting ideas.”
“You know I’m not in a
position to yet, so what's the real reason you’re here.”
A frown, as if she had
been found out. “I wanted to see if you were alright. It seemed a
bit silly to ask you over the phone so I called in. I was on this side of town.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Were you on this side
of town? It’s hardly your stomping
ground, is it?”
She gave him a peculiar
look, this one bordering on annoyance. “Did
you go bonkers when you were in that coma?”
“No, it just heightened
my curiosity factor. You don’t have to
tell me, I don’t really want to know, but it amuses me that you are so touchy
on the subject.”
She took a deep
breath. “I am not being touchy about
anything. I came here to see you. It looks like I was wasting my time, you’re
fine enough to be throwing accusations around like confetti.”
She is upset, he
thought. He’d touched a nerve. And a point just remembered then from a
previous experience with her, she could handle random questions being tossed at
her unannounced. “Come into the office
and sit.”
She did. “Are you going to interrogate me?”
“That would require
instruments of torture. No, I’m just
going to ask a few simple questions.”
She relaxed in the
chair, leaning back, arms folded. “Fire
away.”
“Can dead bodies get up
and walk away?”
“Not that I’m aware
of.”
“Yet, Al and I were in
that room, you were in that room, we both saw a body, and then minutes later,
after you left, I went back to the room and it was gone. No body, no blood, nothing."
A momentary change in
her expression, confirming what he already had surmised about her, that she was
not telling the truth. Her eyes were
avoiding his,
“There must have been
someone else in the building,” she offered by way of explanation.
“Possibly. But they had to drag the body past me to get
it outside. There was no one dragging a
body, nor were there any signs of a body being dragged, as eerie as that might
sound.” Which it was, making him shiver. “And you didn't see anyone when you were
leaving?”
“No.”
“Which means the dead body got up and walked out of its own accord, or you’re lying to me.”
Hooded eyes and a flash
of anger. If she could blink and make
herself disappear, Harry believed right then she would.
Crossed arms, uncrossed
arms, crossed arms, the signs of nervousness brought on by a guilty conscience.
Now for the whammy.
“Is Al still alive?”
© Charles Heath 2016-2019
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