‘Well, then, I guess she’s got two choices. She does what he asks her to do and hopes it ends at that, or—’
‘Or?’ I nudge.
‘Or she kills the tape maker and hands in the edited tape to the cops. If she’s killed someone before, she should be okay, right? In a way it’s a kind of self-defence.’
‘Is it?!’ I ask, incredulous. ‘What, legally?’
‘Legally?! Hell no! That’s first-degree murder right there. I meant in the book; in the story it seems like self-defence. We’d buy it as necessary, right – poetic justice? But, ha, no, legally it’s premeditated murder. We’d be talking life without parole.’
I swallow hard, my mouth so dry again. ‘Yeah, no, I thought so, just the way you said it was… weird.’
‘But here’s the thing, with your stories, Harriet. Morally, it’s different. I don’t know, your characters are likable, we side with them; that’s gold dust. People can get away with almost anything if they’re likable.’
‘Thanks, Deonte. God, I hope you’re right.’
* * *
After I hang up, I sit in silence and wonder to what degree Deonte was aware of the levels of that phone conversation. And to what degree I may have legally screwed myself if anything were to happen over Christmas. That said, I am certainly starting to leave a trail.
34 Leaving a Trail
Thursday 22nd December
Back at the apartment I pull some stationary from a drawer, grab a pen and begin to hand-write, for the first time in God knows how many years, an actual letter.
* * *
The clock on my desk reads 4:56 when I lay them out before me: three thick card envelopes inlayed with my initials, my cursive clearly spelling out the names and addresses. Former NYPD officer Deonte Hughley; Dermot Jones, my solicitor back in London; and my agent Louise.
I keep my letter to Louise fun and incidental, and it would only be on a second reading, in a certain set of circumstances, that anything might pop out to her. I tell her about my pregnancy, my excitement about the future and our child. And then, buried deep within the text, I fleetingly mention the tragedy of Bobby, and of Alison Montgomery, Edward’s first girlfriend. And I am confident that if anything were to happen to me, she would be perfectly capable of putting two and two together.
If Robert wants to kill me, he had better make sure it doesn’t look like a suicide.
Inside the envelope to my solicitor, I place another carefully sealed envelope. On the front is an instruction to only open it in the event of my death. In the cover note I excuse the dramatics but respectfully ask they carry out my request.
Inside is a written account of the events on the day my parent’s died – my own confession. And in a separate letter inside the sealed envelope, I put a written account of Robert’s confession, his list of names, adding my own to the end.
My letter to Deonte is simpler and fits on a small note card.
Thank you for your wise words and help, Deonte. You are a life-saver. I don’t know where I’d be without you.
Also, I forgot to mention when we last spoke that I am getting married next year. Into a rich and powerful family. Guess I’d better watch out! I don’t think you ever got a chance to meet Edward Holbeck, my fiancé, but I would love it if you and your wife Regan would be able to make it to our wedding when that happens. It would be great to have some friendly faces on my side of the congregation – I’ve never been oversubscribed in the family department.
I’m sure the similarities between my life and the new book won’t have passed you by – life imitating art. But let’s hope not too much so, given everything we discussed.
As a wise man once told me: always leave a trail.