‘Of course you’ll tell me that. Look at it from my point of view, though. A guy I don’t even know – in terms of his life and background anyway – seduces me and then convinces me that the dead body in his hotel room has nothing to do with him. Dan, I don’t even know that there was a dead body. I’ve only got your word for that.’
‘This is stupid,’ I say.
‘I almost hope there wasn’t. Lies, I can deal with. I’ve dealt with plenty. But assuming there was a dead body in your bathtub and assuming it was your wife, I’ve only got your word and my judgement that it wasn’t you. And my judgement’s been wrong before.’
‘Jess, I don’t know how else I can—’
‘I mean, no-one even knows we’re here. We don’t have contact numbers for anyone. What if I were to die? What if you were to do the same to me? No-one would ever know.’
‘I didn’t do it, Jess.’
She nods slowly. ‘I know. I believe that. For now.’
‘For now?’
‘What more do you want?’ she replies, turning to unpack her bag. ‘I’m just a child, remember.’
23
There’s paper everywhere. This was meant to help me organise my thoughts and try to work out what had gone on, but it’s just making things worse. It’s clutter, and I can’t deal with clutter.
Jess is furiously scribbling away on another piece of paper, which she then puts on the table, moving two other pieces slightly further away from each other to make room for the new one.
I’ve been trying to tell her everything I can – everything I want to, at least. It feels utterly bizarre giving my life story and intimate details to someone I barely know – and someone who less than an hour ago accused me of murdering my wife and wanting to kill her. But if I’m not able to get my head around what’s happened, I need to give the facts to someone who could.
As far as I’m concerned, Jess has now become the police detective who should’ve been helping me, were it not for the fact that I’d be arrested on the spot and likely charged with my wife’s murder.
‘I still don’t get the whole thing with the phone,’ Jess says, as we reach that point.
‘Me neither. The weird thing is, the message wasn’t appearing on my phone as being sent from it. I guess the police would just say I deleted it, though.’
‘Does anyone know the passcode for your phone?’
‘No,’ I say, having not even considered that up until now. My phone needs a four-digit code to unlock it before use – and that’s if I don’t use my fingerprint to unlock it.
‘What I really don’t get, though, is why that’d prove to the police that you did it. Surely the phone could’ve been hacked or something? They can prove these things.’
‘I dunno,’ I say. I’ve already told her more than enough. She wanted to know all about my relationship with Lisa, for starters. I told her it was a marriage like any other – we’d had our ups and downs, occasionally argued but nothing serious. Before I knew it, she’d had me opening up about my own feelings on the marriage. The problem is I’ve always been a lone wolf. I’ve never been the sort of person who’s felt comfortable being tied down to one particular person or place. I think that’s part of why escaping to Switzerland has allowed me to start to gather my thoughts again.
I made the mistake of telling Jess I’ve never really believed in love. She gave me an odd look that I couldn’t quite decipher, and I had to try and explain to her that it didn’t mean I never loved Lisa, but that I have a different concept of what love is. I know my own personal concept of love is there for a reason: it allows me to get away with whatever I want to get away with. After all, it’s my life, isn’t it? I’ve never hurt Lisa.
Jess wanted to know about affairs. I couldn’t help but laugh. I’ve not been the best-behaved bloke in the world, but who has? As for Lisa, I truthfully don’t know. I’d always worked off the assumption that she’d been faithful, and whether she had or not I failed to see what bearing that would’ve had on someone wanting to murder her. Would a psychotic ex-lover or his wife do this? It seems doubtful. If Lisa didn’t know I was staying at this hotel, how is some mythical lover meant to know? The only thing I could think of was that if she’d been having an affair it would be yet another sign that pointed to me being her murderer.
We go through everything. I tell her about people I’ve fallen out with at work, neighbours we don’t particularly like and long-forgotten family feuds. I know why she’s doing it, but I really don’t see the point. How many people murder a bloke’s wife because he forgot to put sugar in their tea, or because he cuts his privet hedge a bit too short? True, there are some seriously unhinged and deranged people out there, but I think I’d know if I’d come across one of them. Sure enough, I have, but I’ve always kept a wide-enough berth not to get involved.
The harder I try to think, the more clouded and confused my brain becomes and the more I have to try and calm myself down. Thankfully for me, Jess is a pretty calming presence in herself.
I tell her I can’t think straight; my head is buzzing.
‘I didn’t want this to be the first resort, but this is serious now. We really have to get your head straight,’ she says, rummaging in the inside of her jacket pocket and pulling out two sizeable roll-ups. I’ve never taken illegal drugs, but I recognise this straight away.
‘The fuck?’ I squeak, unable to come up with anything wittier.
‘To clear your mind. It’ll loosen you up and let you think better.’
I can’t even think of a response. ‘You tried to cross two national borders with a coat full of weed?’ I say, trying to get my head around the way this girl’s brain works.
‘Tried and succeeded, I think you’ll find,’ she says, lighting one roll-up and handing the other to me, with the lighter, at least giving me the choice of whether to spark up or not. She waits a few seconds before speaking again. ‘Go on. It’ll help.’
‘From what I’ve heard, it’ll make me paranoid, too, and that’s something I can do without right now. I’ve got plenty of paranoia to keep me going for about a decade.’
‘Suit yourself,’ she says, taking a huge drag and leaning back on the chair. The sweet smell of the smoke is familiar, and takes me back to my college days. I never indulged myself, but I knew plenty of people who did.
Jess is the dictionary definition of contradiction. To look at, she’s a slim, petite and incredibly attractive young woman. She’s got a face like butter wouldn’t melt, and seems like the perfect church-going daughter. Close your eyes, though, and you’ve got the devil incarnate. A temptress. A sex goddess. A girl who thinks nothing of smuggling a coatful of drugs across two national borders whilst escaping a murder scene with the prime suspect. A girl who knows people, who can summon up a getaway car and a bagful of euros at a moment’s notice.
This is a girl in control.
And all I can do is sit and watch.
24