Authors: Elle Wynne
My thoughts are interrupted by his voice announcing the introductions to the interview, stating the circumstances for the benefit of the tape. He reads me the formal police caution, pauses, then takes a seat opposite me. He is much closer to me than last time and I try to remain focused.
“So Miss Chase, you have decided to pay me a visit in connection with the matter you are on police bail for?”
“Yes,” I say. There is an awkward silence. I clear my throat and continue. “Having had some time to consider the matter, I can now say who set me up.”
Clearly, he wasn’t expecting this. His expression starts with shock then switches to amusement. He is trying to suppress a smile and his voice changes to a sing-song intonation.
“Really? Ok, I’ll bite. Who set you up?” He leans back in his chair, making it plain to me that he considers this a massive waste of his time. I take long breath of air then decide to say my piece before I change my mind.
“Well, I believe there were five people in total. Ryan Hobbs, Stephen Walker, Peter Quinn, Andrew Rivers and Serena Taylor. In order to ensure Hobbs walked free, they had to stop the trial and ensure that he wasn’t tried again. The evidence against him was overwhelming, it was the only way to guarantee his acquittal.”
To my horror, DC Connelly gives a whoop of laughter.
“That’s good, really, very good Miss Chase. If you weren’t already a lawyer I’d suggest that you’d been watching too many crime dramas. Naming a high profile silk? Genius”
I wait for him to finish chuckling and leave a good five seconds before speaking.
“Exactly Officer. I’m a lawyer. I wouldn’t just come here to throw around wild conspiracy theories. I can prove it.”
I start at the very beginning and tell him all about how Serena and I met, how she was always slightly behind me in terms of work and how she was upset about how my career had progressed above hers. I explain to him how the Hobbs trial went, about the site visit, about the wine and how Serena and Rivers had become close. I talk for what seems like hours; Connelly listens, asks the occasional question and changes the tapes when the buzzer reminds him that they are almost at the end. I give him the cheque book, the photos of Serena’s phone, the print out of Walker’s Facebook and finally, the response to the message I sent pretending to be Serena.
I received the response last night. I must admit when I messaged him I had hoped that something would come of it, but never really believed that anything of help would. When I received an email saying that I’d had a message my heart literally missed a beat. I grabbed Sebastian and together we went to see what had been said.
“Darling, please don’t get your hopes up,” he had warned. I knew he was right, I mean you’d have to be pretty dim to fall for this. The site seemed to take forever to load and I thought I was going to pass out from the anticipation of it all. Finally, we were able to see his response:
‘Hi Babe, living the high life, sure you are too! Hobbs made sure of that. Cracking bloke. Off to the Grand Prix now with the wife. Paddock passes. Make sure you spend yours on the good stuff.’
We both stared at in in silence for what seemed like an eternity. Sebastian starting frantically pressing buttons on the keyboard and for a terrible moment I thought he might have deleted it.
“What are you doing?” I’d exclaimed.
“Taking screenshots and printing it out,” he replied. “We need to make sure this is watertight.”
I watch DC Connelly read the message over and over. He looks up at me. “Fuck,” he states in a low voice, before coughing to try and disguise what he said.
“Indeed,” I reply.
“Ok, ok, so if we work on the basis that this actually came from Walker, Serena must have been involved.”
I try not to throw something at him.
“Of course it came from Walker. Go and arrest him. Ask him about it!”
DC Connelly nods slowly. “And the cheque book. How can I be sure that you didn’t have it all along?”
I reach into my bag and hand him a DVD. “Watch this, it shows when and where I found it.”
When I called Dream Brides and told the owner I was thinking of suing Serena for emotional distress she was more than happy to assist in giving me the footage from our time at the salon. I’m no police officer but even I can see that the look on my face when I found my cheque book is something that even the most experienced actor would have trouble perfecting.
I stand up. “I think I’ve given you more than enough to be getting on with. I understand that I’ll have to wait for you to make your enquiries before you believe me, but when the time comes I will make a statement to support any prosecutions you wish to pursue. Just one thing though. I presume you already knew all of this?”
DC Connelly looks flummoxed.
“What? No! Of course not!”
“So, despite bailing me for goodness knows how many weeks, you didn’t think to conduct any further enquiries at all?”
To his credit, the officer looks slightly embarrassed.
“No. It seemed watertight.”
“Well things aren’t always as they seem.” I turn to leave and feel a hand on my shoulder.
“Keep acting like you were. Try not to let on you know. It shouldn’t take us long, but we don’t want to risk Hobbs leaving the country or anything.”
I sigh. I had really hoped that this would be the end of all the pretence. I nod at him and walk out, head held high. Sebastian gets to his feet on seeing me. I give him a wry smile and we walk out together, conscious of DC Connelly watching us leave.
Chapter Twenty Two
Nothing has happened. Nothing has changed. There hasn’t been any ‘breaking news’ to reveal the plot to frame me, no-one has been arrested, no apologies have been made. It’s been eight days since I gave all of the evidence to DC Connelly and there has been nothing. I must have tried to call him at least a hundred times now, but he is unreachable. Personally, I think he is avoiding me.
I push the button on the treadmill and feel my legs burn as I sprint through the last kilometer of my run, using my anger to push me through the pain.
I’m so frustrated. I’m not naive, but I had expected something to happen quicker than this. I’ve been avoiding Serena, dodging her phone calls and making excuses as to why I can’t see her. I don’t think she has any idea whatsoever as to why I’ve been acting as I have, but from the amount of abusive voice and text messages she is sending me, she is clearly not happy.
Today is Friday and the wedding is tomorrow. Today we are going to the venue to do a final walkthrough and check that Serena is happy with the layout of the rooms. I have tried everything I can think of to get out of this, but according to Sebastian, she has made it clear that she will be seeing me this afternoon and will not be attending without me. I can see why I’m expected to be there, but I’m just so tired of all the facade that nothing is wrong.
I’ve gone from shock, to being upset about her betrayal, but now I’m just plain furious. How dare she? The rest of them didn’t know me, they were just acting to further their best interests, be it professional or personal. This is much, much worse. I don’t know how I’m going to be able to look at her without spilling what I know she’s done.
I finish my workout and head to the changing rooms. I’m not going to have time to get ready at home, so I’ve bought my outfit here. My hard work and discipline regarding my diet has paid off and I think I’m probably just back to my pre-disaster size. Whilst I have woken up many times and thought that the best way forwards would have been something fat and calorie laden, I know that it only makes me more unhappy. I slip into a pair of beige wide-legged trousers and a floaty blue and green top and risk a smile at my reflection in the large mirror.
A woman wearing what would normally be sold as a flannel saunters past, seemingly oblivious that she is baring her nether regions to the occupants of the changing room. As I do a double take at her confidence, I realise that this is someone I know. Someone I could really do with speaking to. Someone I’d much rather speak to when they were dressed, but needs must.
“Lucinda!” I exclaim, trying to sound upbeat and perky.
She stops, and turns to face me. I try to keep my gaze focused firmly on her face. “Oh, hi Lauren. I heard that you were practically a recluse now,” she says, her voice thick with fake concern.
I force myself to laugh. “Oh, you know how it is! Anyway, enough about me, how are you?” I learned a long time ago that the quickest way to distract Lucinda is to get her onto her favourite subject, herself.
“Oh, fabulous as always,” she pouts, entirely focused on her reflection. “Just getting in a few pre-wedding workouts. Not that I need them, but they can’t hurt.” She flexes her arm experimentally and the small scrap of cloth standing between her and complete nudity slips slightly. I take a step backwards.
“Wedding?” I venture. She looks at me as if I have just grown a second head. “God Lauren, I heard you’d lost the plot, but I didn’t think it’d be this bad. My. Wedding. To. Andrew. I know I haven’t invited you, but we thought, in the circumstances, that you would totally ruin things.”
I decide to ignore this.
“So you are still getting married then?” I blurt out, before I can help it. With some considerable effort she pulls her gaze from the mirror and looks at me.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she snaps. She is looking at me with a guarded expression and I sense that she thinks I know something I’m not supposed to. I decide to gamble and go for broke. I place a hand on her bare shoulder and try to look sympathetic.
“Well, you know, after what happened with Andrew and Serena I did wonder...” I venture. For a terrible moment, she looks like she is going to cry. God, I hope she knows. I wait for her to speak.
“That whore,” she finally spits. “Andrew told me how she came on to him when he was drunk. He felt sorry for her, so kissed her. Then, she had the gall to practically stalk him! I saw the vile messages she sent him!”
I exhale. “So that’s how you found out then? The texts?”
“He would have told me!” she defensively replies.
“Of course! Of course,” I reassure her. “Have they seen each other since?”
“As if!” she scoffs. “I forgave him but he’d already made it perfectly clear to me that he wanted nothing more to do with that tramp.”
I’m struggling with an internal dilemma. On one hand, I owe Lucinda no favours. She has been nothing but a complete bitch to me. On the other, does she really deserve to be planning a wedding to a complete shit? She’s going to find out soon anyway. Hopefully. I can’t tell her the truth, but maybe there is something I can do to soften the blow.
“Lucinda, this may not make sense now, but remember when we were at Bar School we were always told to have confidence in our intelligence?”
She’s looking at me like her earlier suspicions about me being certifiable were correct.
“Well” I continue “I’ve always interpreted that as go with your gut feeling. If something seems wrong, it normally is.”
I pick up my bag and walk out of the changing room, resisting the temptation to look behind me. She may not want to see what is right in front of her, but she’ll have to soon.
Chapter Twenty Three
It doesn’t take me long to drive to Westhulste House. I make my way up the long, sweeping gravel entrance drive and take in the grandeur of the majestic building. I can see why Serena chose this venue for her big day; it looks like something regularly frequented by D-list celebrities who pull up in horse-drawn Cinderella carriages.
I find a parking space and take a moment to compose myself. Serena wants me to stay here overnight with her and help her to get ready in the morning and as yet, I’ve been unable to think of a reason to get out of it. With a heavy heart and a feeling of foreboding I clamber out of the Audi and make my way to the entrance.
I’m met with scenes of chaos. Some people are rushing about carrying large floral arrangements, others are shuttling large suitcases into rooms off the large, opulently decorated hallway. I stand in the doorway, fascinated by the activity before me.
My reverie is rudely interrupted by a screeching noise that I immediately recognise to be made by Serena. No-one apart from me seems to bat an eyelid at this audible abomination, so I suspect that this isn’t the first time it has been heard today. I resign myself to my fate and head towards a room at the end of the corridor.
Sure enough, as the heavy door swings open I spy the bride-to-be pointing at a small well-dressed cowering man who is desperately clutching at a wad of paper. I step inside, trying to remain undetected.
“This is not what I paid for, how dare you try and rip me off!” Serena is shrieking like a pre-menstrual banshee.
“I haff not!” he desperately replies in an accent that could be French.
“You bloody have!” she continues. “I told you that the paper for the menus had to be specially sourced from Japan! This looks like it has come from a bloody photocopier!”
The man looks as though he is praying for a miracle as his protests fall on very deaf ears. Luckily for him, someone is listening. Mid rant, Serena turns and spots me.
“You!” she screams.
I run through my mental inventory of ways to deal with this. I know that I’m supposed to still be the dutiful bridesmaid, but I’m not sure I can take much more of her crap.
“Yes?” I venture.
“Where the fuck have you been?” she yells. “You are the world’s worst friend ever!”
I remain silent as she comes striding towards me. Up close, she looks even angrier. It’s killing me that she can take this sanctimonious line with me and I can’t tell her that I know about her betrayal. I remind myself that this is only for a little while; the police have to do something soon. Don’t they?
Sebastian and I had a long talk last night about what to do about Ewan. I agree with Sebastian that we can’t let him walk into this wedding with no idea at all about his fiancée’s infidelity, let alone her criminal behaviour. Although we both shared that view, neither of us had a clue on how to break it to him without letting on about her involvement with the juror bribing. As it stands, Sebastian is going to try and think of a solution. My instructions sadly remain the same, pretend I know nothing and try to carry on as normal.