Lost Days

"You have evidence that his car was driven from his house, but no evidence to prove that he was the driver, at that time of night it would have been impossible for a witness to identify the driver. You found the car at the airport but no evidence that he boarded a flight that night or the next day. What you have is some circumstantial evidence but nothing to link that evidence with Mr. Pollard. I request, your Honour, that Mr. Pollard be allowed to remain in Sydney while we carry out our own investigations into what appears to be an attempt to implicate him in a crime that he had no motive, method or opportunity to commit."

"And you can prove this Detective Sergeant?"

"Yes your Honour, we have evidence that he had been staying at the Hyatt hotel from the time that he arrived in Sydney until he called for a cab to take him to Central Railway and that he would be out of town for at least three days. We also have evidence that he was in a room at the Sebel hotel from 10:00pm on Wednesday the 11th of February until we found him following a tip-off at 10:00am on Friday the 13th. This brings me to an interesting point; word that we had found him didn't go out until 10:15am and it is now 12:15pm, just two hours later, tell me Detective, how is it that you were able to obtain the permission to apply for extradition, drive from Melbourne to Tullamarine, get on a flight to Sydney, drive from the airport to here in just on two hours, or did you find a convenient phone booth and change into your Superman suit?"

"It would appear as if we have a problem here. If I were to allow this application and the Sydney investigation was abandoned, justice might be in danger. If however I were to disallow this application, the Melbourne investigators could reasonably claim that they were being frustrated. I will, having given consideration to the merits of both, rule that Mr. Pollard will remain in Sydney while this investigation is carried out, and at the same time he will make himself available to the Detectives from Melbourne. I will leave the details up to you." He banged the gavel to signify that he was finished with them. They left.

Outside in the corridor Roxburgh turned on Madeline. "We have proof that this man murdered his wife in cold blood and fled the scene."

"What possible motive could he have had that would have led him to commit such an act?"

"He had just found out that his wife had been having an affair."

"Really, and you have evidence of this affair?"

"Yes. She was pregnant and his medical records show that he was unlikely to have been the father of the child."

Madeline looked at me. She didn't need to ask the question. "Have you ever heard of the IVF programme? We'd been on that programme for five years and had several unsuccessful attempts. This one was successful and we couldn't have been happier, you have just to ask our family and friends."

"Well, so much for your motive, how about opportunity?"

"We know that he was there because he was seen to drive away from the scene by a neighbour shortly after the time at which our Medical Examiner set as the time of death."

"Your witness saw his car drive off but there is no way that the driver could be identified because of the time and the fact that his car has tinted windows making it impossible to see the driver through the glass. What about the murder weapon, presuming that a weapon was involved?"

"She was shot at close range by a large calibre hand gun, possibly a 9mm. We know that he has access to such a weapon, we just haven't found it yet."

"If I had what you had I'd be still looking, you have nowhere near enough evidence to go to trial, let alone hope for a conviction. You are wasting your time and mine by pursuing this line of enquiry. When you have something of consequence to ask Mr. Pollard I will see that he is available and will even provide the facilities. We will go now and continue our investigations." We left.

"Wow, you really got stuck into him, thank you."

"Don't get too carried away, I'm just doing my job." I was a little deflated by her answer, here I was thinking that there was some sort of connection between us. We left the courtroom and headed for the police station and that interview room. Madeline didn't switch on the recorder. "This is off the record. We have obtained the unedited footage from the cricket match and there's a segment that I want you to look closely at." She switched on a TV that was showing the cricket match. As the camera panned across the front of the members stand she paused it. "Who is that person seated next to you?"

"That was the person who invited me to the game, his name is Pete Hardcastle."

"And the woman who is sitting next to you, on the other side, who is she?"

"Her name is Julie or Juliet, something like that, I've never seen her before or since that night."

"You seem to be friendly enough with her."

"I don't know about that, I couldn't shut her up, she just kept talking the whole time. I wasn't interested in what she had to say so I just made appropriate sounding noises from time to time and tried to ignore her."

"She didn't come with your friend?"

"Not that I'm aware of. He didn't seem interested in her either."

"The reason that I'm asking about her is that she appears to have been the person who escorted you to the room at the Sebel. She also visited you on a number of occasions at the Hyatt. The first time she asked for you at the desk, but was seen going through the foyer at other times. That is why I'm interested in her, we need to find her, she's now a person of interest in our investigations."

"What happens now?"

"We are taking you back to the Hyatt and you are going to help us by looking through your things to see if something jumps out at you."

"We?" I looked around for Benson.

"Well, when I say we I mean the police 'we', but it will only be me."

Memories began to return as soon as I walked into my room at the Hyatt. My wheelie bag was where I left it, but it wasn't as I'd left it, someone had tampered with the locks. I opened the pocket at the front. "Oh look."

"Your car keys are missing."

"Are you surprised at that?"

"Not in the slightest. Now we know how they managed to drive your car to the airport."

It was around that time that it hit me, I was on my own, no more Jenny in my life, no possibility of a family." I sat on the bed with my head in my hands, staring at without seeing, the floor, tears welling up in my eyes.

I felt a hand around my shoulder pulling me to her. "Don't be ashamed to cry if you need to."

I cried for a while, silently weeping, my body shaking, sagging forward to be held up by Madeline's strong arms. I stopped crying and looked at her concerned face. "Now I know what it feels like to have the rug pulled out from under you and wondering how far it is to the floor. I don't much like the feeling."

"If I was a Psychologist instead of a cop I'd probably say something like; 'I know where you're coming from.' To show my empathy, but that's a programmed response that does the opposite for me. What I can say is; 'been there, done that.' There used to be a Mr. Allison but he isn't there any more."

"What happened?"

"He was a Psychologist, you would think that he would be able to cope with the pressures of being married to a cop, but no. I came home from work one night looking for sympathy after attending a very serious car accident only to find my husband hanging from a beam in the garage."

"I'm sorry I asked."

"No, it's okay, I'm over it, I don't understand any of it, but I've moved on. My work keeps my mind off it, and keeping Constable Benson at arm's length helps me to believe that I'm still attractive to some men."

"I think that you should remember that, given a different time and different circumstances I would probably be fighting him for your attentions. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

"Don't be sorry, if the circumstances were different I'd think about it. Look at us, here we are in the middle of a murder investigation comparing suffering. We should be getting back to it."

"How about I make us a cup of coffee before we start?"

"I wouldn't say no to one, thanks."

I found the jug and filled it while I rustled up a couple of cups and some powdered travesty, a couple of those little containers of long-life milk and cello wrapped biscuits. It wasn't much but it almost filled the gap that came from no lunch.

I took the opportunity before we made a start to change from the clothes that I'd been wearing I don't know how long, into something a little more comfortable, in this case trackies and sneakers. "Okay, where do we start?"

"I want you to go through your bag and tell me if there is anything unusual, you know, anything missing or not where you'd left it."

"For a start, there's a shirt missing, and a pair of trousers."

"That's a start, possibly took those so that anyone that knew you would think, from a casual glance, that it was you."

"And my body spray is missing."

"What spray was it?"

"Obsession, for men that is."

"I wouldn't think it would be the one for women."

I found my mobile phone but when I turned it on nothing happened. At first I thought that it was the battery but when I put it on the charger it was still dead. I slipped the back cover off to find that the SIM card had been removed. "It looks as if at least one call was made from my mobile, probably to Jenny, and the card was taken out so we wouldn't find a record of it."

"I'll contact the Vic's and see if they can check on your home phone and Jenny's mobile to see if there is a record of the call." She made a note.

A thought came to me. "That Sergeant Roxburgh, why would he suggest that Jenny had been having an affair, there was absolutely no evidence of anything of the kind?"

"He probably did it so that he could judge your reaction. An obvious over-reaction can be an indicator of guilt."

"How did I do?"

"Actually you reacted just as I thought that you would. There was a reaction which is better than no reaction or an over-reaction."

"This interrogation stuff is complex isn't it?"

"You'd better believe it, it's often not what is said but what remains unsaid. I've often thought that good poker players would make good cops, they learn how to recognise a person's 'tell', that almost imperceptible reaction that gives away a good hand. It's similar to a lie detector, a couple of questions to establish reactions, to find the 'tell' and then follow the line that gets the right reaction."

"Is that what you've been doing to me?"

"At first yes, but then I came to the conclusion that you are innocent and decided to help you as much as I can officially."

"Thank you for that, I appreciate all the help that you've given already."

"I think we're just about finished here, I'd better get back to the station before they send out a search party. I'll speak to Roxburgh about the phone records. Don't leave town."

"I won't, there's no point in going home, there's nothing there for me. Would you like to have dinner with me tonight? Sorry, forget I asked."

"No, don't be sorry, I'd love to, off the record of course."

"Great, you choose the time and place and I'll be there."

"Why don't I just call for you here, it'll save me having to explain how to get there."

"Okay, I'll be ready when you get here, should I go formal or casual?"

"Casual, but not what you have on. I'll pick you up at seven."

Seven eventually arrived, I'd been ready for some time, I'd showered, shaved sprayed the pits and climbed into my best casual gear, and sat on the end of the bed and waited. At seven there was a knock on the door and I opened it to an apparition. I had become somewhat used to the tailored skirt, white blouse and jacket but now, instead she stood there in a dress that was almost decent. Don't get me wrong it wasn't slutty in any way, it just showed a little more cleavage than would be tolerated on the job and her skirt showed quite a bit of leg when she swirled it.

"Well, are you going to invite me in or do we go straight away, or are you just going to stand there with your mouth open?"

"Come in, please. I'm ready but thought that you might like a drink before we leave."

"I don't think I should drink, it wouldn't look good if I was to be pulled over by an RBT (Random Breath Test) unit and I blew even a little."

"Then we should leave." She was standing close and made no move to leave. I did a quick pat to make sure that I had my wallet and steeped past her, taking her arm in the process.

"You don't have to be so formal, I'll let you take my hand if you want." I took it and shut the door behind us as we headed for the lifts. He stood close to me in the lift so I put my arm lightly around her waist. She stood even closer.

"I'm trying to work out what's happening here."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm having second thoughts about having dinner with you, but then I'm not. I should never have asked you given that you're a cop investigating the death of my wife, but I'm glad I did. I feel a connection with you that I shouldn't. It could be the need to not be alone, the need to be able to talk out my thoughts that has drawn me to you. Whatever it is I've just got to go with it because I don't know what to do."

"Ssh, don't try to rationalise what you're going through, we are going to have dinner and I'm going to let you talk, and you're going to listen while I unburden my soul to you."

Her car surprised me, I'd expected something a little less flamboyant that an EVO 10 (Mitsubishi). I climbed in and she fired it up. "Where are we going?" I asked as we headed out of town.

"Somewhere nice and quiet." She drove for half an hour and succeeded in getting me completely lost before pulling in to the driveway of a house. "Welcome to my humble abode." She led me inside and poured us a drink. "Dinner will be ready in a few minutes." She sat next to me on the sofa and tucked her legs under her. "Cheers." She touched her glass to mine.

"I'm not comfortable with this."

"Why not, what do you think is going to happen?"

"I don't know, but I don't know that I can resist the temptation to do something wrong if it should arise."

"Are you afraid of me and what you think I'm planning?"

"No, I'm sure that you're not planning anything wrong, it's just that the propensity for us to give into our feelings is there." I was saved by the oven timer.

Everything about the meal was good, she was a good cook and a pleasant dinner companion. We talked about a lot of things and never mentioned my problems once. We skirted the issue on a number of occasions but never actually went there. "After my husband died I didn't know what I would do. The department helped by moving me from Traffic Branch to where I am now. You see I blamed the pressures of having to attend fatal accidents for him not coping with me or our marriage. One of his colleagues told me later that he'd been having problems at work, it was his inability to divorce himself from his clients, to externalise their problems so that they didn't become his, that it was possible to empathise without getting personally involved."

We sat at the table talking for over an hour before I needed to use the toilet. When I came back she had moved to the sofa, so I sat next to her. She leaned over and rested her head against my shoulder. "This has been a great evening for me, I've never felt able to talk about myself and my life with anyone before, you're a good listener."

"I feel comfortable talking to you, it's like I've known you for most of my life and that we're friends. Please tell me that you don't do this to all the guys that you're investigating."

"You're not getting jealous on me are you?"

"No, should I be?"

She kissed me on the cheek, looked at me and decided that she wanted more. She turned to me and put her arms around my neck and kissed my lips. I didn't resist even though that mental voice was yelling at me that this was a very bad thing, I just couldn't resist her passion.

But I did, resist that is, eventually, almost before we'd reached the point of no return the inner voices were that loud that I had to yield to them. "Stop! This is all wrong." We were in her bed, naked, and the sight of her standing in front of me before we'd got into the bed was enough to drown out the voices. Her dark hair newly released from the band that held in place, rested softly on her shoulders, framing her strong but sexually attractive face. Her breasts stood proudly from her chest, her nipples like large black eyes staring at me, and the fine bush at the junction of her legs shaved into a neat triangle like an arrow head pointing to the target that were my dreams. One hand snaked around my neck as the other pulled back the bed clothes to reveal satin sheets. "I bought these just for you." We literally slid into bed the sensuous touch of the fabric adding to my already aroused state. So what made me stop? The feeling that this was all wrong, that there must be rules about our association, that she could be in deep trouble if anyone discovered what we were about to do.

"What's the matter Darling?" She was still stroking him, the down there him.

"I'm thinking of you. If anyone ever found out about this it could not only jeopardise your career, but this whole investigation, and I'd find myself in the hands of someone who doesn't believe in my innocence."

"Like Benson for instance."

"Like Benson for sure. I don't trust him and if you've had to fight him off he's likely to do anything to get back at you."

"Fuck, I knew that something would screw this up, especially as I'd gone to a lot of trouble to get it just right." She flopped over beside me and reluctantly let go of him. "So what do we do now, and don't even think about me driving you back to the hotel, do you know how many bottles of wine we got through tonight?"

"I could call for a cab."

"And have a record on the taxi database? No, you're just going to have to stay here with me tonight."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes I'm sure. Look, now that I know that I'll never get you to make love to me, at least not tonight but a girl can dream, I'll be happy with the alternative, as a platonic sleeping arrangement in my bed."

"Do you have a chastity belt?"

"No, but I'll leave the cold shower running and shove you under it if you get frisky."

We almost made it through the night. I was half awake having an interesting dream involving a new and different interrogation method when I felt her lips on mine and her voice, husky with desire. "Do really expect me to lay here looking at your magnificent thing and not do anything about it." Her lips left mine and engulfed my cock. To make matters worse for my conscience she straddled me and pressed her pussy lips against my mouth lips. Oh well, what happens in the privacy of a person's bedroom should stay in the privacy of that bedroom. She came at around the same time that I did, she swallowed my come while I lapped up her juices and then she turned around and lay next to me with that look like the cat that got the canary. She took my hand in her's and led it to her wet pussy. "See what you can do with your finger while I work on him."

I obliged and soon she was losing all control, thrashing about on the bed, hanging on to him for support until he was fully prepared for what was to come. (Sorry) His entry into her pussy was made easy by her wetness and he was soon plunging in and out with more vigour than I had ever experienced, helped along by the urging of her vocal encouragement. "Oh god yes, yes, harder, harder, I'm coming, I'm coming, oh my god!" She grabbed me by the arse cheeks and pulled me into her until she stopped shuddering then it started all over again until I pushed myself into her as far as I could go before coming deep inside her. "I needed that so much, I've been on short rations since Gerry decided he no longer wanted to be here."