A Life Singular - Part One

Chapter 3 - Gone

Gone

The staff at The Pensione had been looking forward to seeing the famous couple in their hotel again since the booking had been made several weeks ago, but now was not the time for formalities and protocol.  Chris Nichols reached across and put his hand on his guest’s arm.  Jeff was grateful, the simple gesture steadying his nerves.  Even though it had been over a quarter of a century since his last brush with the law, policemen still automatically made him feel guilty and on edge.  With instinctive good grace, he stood up to greet the hotel manager.

However, DS Waters requested that Jeff stay seated, and the two detectives sat together on another couch opposite.  Andy Waters was younger than the victim’s husband, probably by ten years.  Fisher was older, probably by about the same margin.  All four men sat staring at each other, still completely stunned by the morning’s horrific event.

‘Jeff,’ DI Fisher began again, ‘I can see this is extremely difficult for you.’

You don’t say, the bitter man cursed inside his head, instead urging the senior officer to continue.

‘We receive training on how to deal with next of kin in violent crimes.  We’re taught how to counsel the bereaved but in truth we know full well we can’t relate to what you’re going through.  You’re a public figure too.  Everyone knows you and your wife.  I think it’s very important that we try to make things as simple as possible.’

‘Thanks,’ Jeff sighed.  ‘You won’t get any objection from me on that score.’

Fisher was right, he thought.  They had no idea how he felt.  In fact, he was beginning to feel very cold.  He couldn’t remember where he had left his jacket.  Was it still in the little AMG or had he thrown it on top of their suitcases?  Nothing seemed clear any more.  He shivered, taking a packet of cigarettes out of his breast pocket.

‘Do you mind?’ he asked the men.

All three shook their heads, and Chris went to retrieve an ashtray.  A woman dressed in a green paramedic’s uniform knocked on the open door and entered boldly at first, and then upon seeing her idol in person, stopped in her tracks.  Sensing the woman’s hesitation, DI Fisher stood up and walked out of the room with her.  They exchanged a few hushed sentences before the inspector came back, full of purpose.

‘We’re ready to move your wife’s body, Jeff,’ he announced.  ‘The hotel has allocated us a room that we can move her to while the arrangements can be made.  Do we have your permission to move her?’

Removing the unlit cigarette from his mouth and putting it angrily back into the packet, Jeff jumped up, noticing that the noise from the foyer had subsided almost to nothing.  Pretty soon there would be no trace of anything unusual having happened here this morning.  The hotel had a business to run, and the show must go on.  He was instantly furious.  How dare they?  This was his beautiful best friend they were talking about.  How dare they just clear away Lynn Dyson Diamond so they could get on with making money?

‘I’ll do it,’ he answered in a surly tone, shaking the cramp out of his legs.

Before anyone could stop him, the widower strode over to where the love of his life was still sitting, surrounded by evidence labels and little plastic bags.  DS Waters ran after him with a set of overalls and some protective gloves.

‘Please put these on first, sir,’ he asked breathlessly.  ‘They’ll protect your clothing from the blood and prevent contamination.’

The famous man turned around and took the overalls from the detective.  The thought of being covered in his wife’s blood brought another rush of nauseous emotion over him, and he quickly pulled on the dark blue clothing and fastened the zip up to his collar. The latex gloves were so tight that he was sure he would lose all sensation in his hands before he and Lynn reached their next destination.