‘So what have you learned?’
‘Little more than you. To sum it up, I’d say I’ve learned Kira was playing those guys she was seeing. That she was obsessed with me. I also found out my mother knows more about guns than I do.’
‘What?’
I give him a condensed version of the visit I’d had with Mother. I can tell from his face he doesn’t know whether to laugh at me or share her concerns.
‘So what did you do with the gun?’
‘I left it in my car. Which is where it’s going to stay.’
He nods his approval.
What I don’t say is the gun will never be more than a hundred yards from me. At the same time, it won’t be at my side, inviting me to use it for all the wrong reasons.
‘So where do we go from here?’
I can’t give him a ready answer as I’m not sure myself. Everything we’ve learned has led us into an end so dead there isn’t enough room to turn around and come back.
His look at the digital lives of Chalmers, Upson and Lester has turned up nothing at all.
He’d called Emily to establish Kira’s time of death. She’d told him a time which was four hours after Upson had flown out of SLC airport. Even if Emily was out by a couple of hours there was no way he could have murdered Kira and still made his flight after a two-hour drive. And he did make his flight.
Like the detective he is, Alfonse had checked this fact as soon as he’d learned of its existence. He’d called Upson’s cell and had put to him much the same questions I’d asked Lester and Chalmers. Alfonse got the same answers I did. This is a shame as far as the investigation goes. Upson is an easy fit as the murderer. Him working as a butcher would give him access to many sharp knives and the knowledge of how to use them.
However, if there’s one thing I’ve learned assisting Alfonse, it’s that the simple option is almost never the real solution. Anything that involves human beings will always turn out to be messier and way more complicated than it ever needs to be.
Nothing in the digital records for the three men has shown up anything untoward. None of them is sitting on a pile of money. There are no convictions for assault. No grievances raised against them in the local courts. In essence they are a bunch of guys who’d happened to date the same girl.
What makes everything more interesting is the girl’s behaviour with each of them and with me.
I got that she was playing it cool with me. What I don’t get is why she bothered seeing those guys at all.
The hooking would satisfy any sexual needs she had and even if it didn’t, there are more than enough sex toys in her basement to make up for the lack of a man in her life. Companionship is out, as she kept her dates at arm’s length. They weren’t invited back to her house, asked to meet her parents or any of the usual stuff that happens in a relationship.
Instead they were picked up and discarded at will with the casual indifference a child has for a less than favourite toy.
None of the three had stood a chance of ever getting close to her, of forming a bond that would last through the decades. Even the priggish Chalmers had recognised his relationship with Kira for what it was.
Try as I might, I just can’t figure out why Kira was seeing them. At least not until I pull out Alfonse’s folder and go through the pages copied from her journal.
No wonder he is laying off with the wisecracks. There is some whacked out stuff on these pages.
Tough as they are to read, I go through them a second time.
Some part of my subconscious is aware of Alfonse moving around trying not to disturb me. I also know he’s keeping an eye on me as I read.
When I am finished my second pass, I get up and pace around the room. My boots sending out a metronomic beat on the laminate flooring as the movement helps me digest what I’ve just read.
Alfonse hands me another soda and takes the crushed remains of the first can from my hand.
‘Well?’
I shrug. I’m not yet able to organise my thoughts into a coherent sentence. It’s not every day you get to read the obsession-fuelled notes of your stalker.
The overriding element I’ve got is that Kira’s obsession with me appeared to be a case of undeclared love with psychotic overtones.
Upson, Lester and Chalmers had been selected as boyfriends so she could parade herself past me with them at her side. Every detail of her frustrations at the ploy not working has been recorded with intimate accuracy. The fact she’d repeated her actions a second and third time after the initial failure is described in self-critical terms where she’d railed at her own stupidity for not being able to make it work.
All blame is laid at her own door while I escape without criticism. The journal’s pages detail every occasion in the last two years when she’d seen me. Whether it is one of her nocturnal visits, seeing me at the Tree or just a chance meeting somewhere in town.
Times and dates are recorded, along with the clothes I wore, the people I was with and how I looked. Comments about any girls in my company are three points north of swivel-eyed jealousy.
Kira had vented against these unknowing innocents. She’d oscillated between describing them in every defamatory term ever uttered about a woman and comparing herself against them.
Every time I turn a new page I see further levels of obsession, self-flagellation at not being able to snare my attention and a further elevation of my appeal to her. It is as though all the setbacks, real as well as perceived, increased her affection for me.
Struggle as I might to get my head round the situation, I know Dr Edwards would find enough material in these pages to write several important papers.
The underlying theme is that I could do no wrong in her eyes and she was prepared to play the long game in her quest to snare me. There are screeds of pages where she is preaching patience to herself, stating I would tire of my single life and turn to her.
She’s even gone so far as to describe her hooking as a means to finance a decent lifestyle for the two of us should her father cut her free for not marrying someone he deemed suitable.
Reading this particular revelation twists a knot of responsibility in my gut. She’s written of her loathing for her clients and the depravities they paid her for. Yet she also rationalises the encounters as a necessary evil to provide a comfortable life for the two of us.
I feel shame that a friend, a sometime girlfriend who booty called me, should go to such lengths to create an imagined future. The fact I hadn’t had the slightest inkling of the depth of her feelings mocks me.
The logical part of my brain is trying to say otherwise, but the MacDonald blood in me is too proud to accept innocence. It wants action. Justice. A resolution for a young life ended many years too soon.
It doesn’t matter which part of my brain or nature I listen to. I know her killer has to be caught and brought to justice. This is no longer a case. It is personal.
‘You ready to talk about it?’ Concern laces Alfonse’s face and voice.
Am I showing my feelings that much?
I dismiss the thought as soon as it registers. He’s been my best friend for twenty-something years. If he can’t tell when I’m upset by now, he isn’t deserving of the title.
‘I guess.’
‘Tell me, what are you thinking?’ The phrase is unlike him. He’s never shy in sharing his opinions and then asking for my thoughts on what he’s said. I can only guess he’s jumped to some of the same conclusions I have and is afraid of putting ideas in my head. Either that or he’s thought of something I haven’t. After all, he’s had longer to digest the content of Kira’s journal than I have.
‘I think I’ve been stupid not to pick up on her infatuation with me.’ I throw a barb at him to keep him on his toes. ‘But then you never spotted it either.’
I get a scowl and a continue gesture from him.
‘For whatever reason, Kira fell hard for me. Yet she didn’t push the issue, preferring to bide her time and wait until I was ready for a proper relationship. She was using the guys she saw while I was dating someone. They meant nothing to her and they were mostly aware there were no wedding bells on the horizon. Therefore, only Terrel Upson was fool enough to fall for her.’