Ultimate Dilemma (Justice Again Book 2) by M Comley (poetry books to read .txt) 📗

“I like your thinking. Go on, you first.”

“Why would he come out after all those years?”

“Good question. One that has always flummoxed me. Maybe the right person hadn’t come along. Do you think the wife could be the killer?”

Charlie snorted. “Her and dozens of others by the sounds of it. The honest answer is, I don’t suppose we’ll have an inkling until we sit down and speak to her. I wonder what her reaction is going to be when we show up at her door.”

“It could be a situation of her going down the fight or flight route, so be prepared—that is assuming she has something to hide. I have my doubts. This whole investigation is driving me batty. One minute I think it’s the daughter, the next I don’t think she could possibly be behind the murders, and now we’ve got another potential candidate. Would a woman wronged the way she’s been, be tempted to kill her ex, just for the sake of it?”

“Pride comes into it, I suppose. I don’t really know enough about the subject to feel that I can offer a suitable answer. Who knows what goes through a woman’s mind when the person she has loved for over twenty years tells her they’re leaving her for someone of the opposite gender? Would you know how to react if AJ said the same?”

“Blimey, I really wouldn’t want to put myself in that position. How would you feel if Brandon came home and announced something similar?”

“That’s just it, I don’t think either of us could speculate unless we were thrust into that dilemma. I can’t imagine any woman reacting calmly, can you?”

“But then, I’m not going to mention names, but I can think of a few high-profile celebrities who have shocked the nation in the past few years by doing just that and their wives have stuck by them. Is it a case of the women settling into a new life with their men? I believe the celebrities I’m thinking about, didn’t actually go off with someone of the same sex, they’ve simply come out and admitted they’re gay. Who knows what the future holds for either party? Has the man ‘come out’ in the hope that the woman would go on to find true love with another man? It’s all so confusing to know what to think.”

Charlie glanced out of the window at the passing shops. “It’s definitely not a situation I would relish finding myself in, I can categorically say that.”

“I totally get that. I could see some women spiralling out of control. Where that could possibly lead is anybody’s guess. Maybe we should stop speculating until we meet the woman in person and see how she appears to be coping. I wonder if she’s found a job yet. She’d need to get one, she can’t support herself on thin air. Which could be another tick for her exacting her revenge.”

Charlie turned her attention to the road ahead again. “Possibly. Like you say, to speculate without ever laying eyes on the woman could be foolish and jeopardise the investigation.”

“Yep, what say we stop off for a coffee before we head over there? I can think of a lovely coffee shop en route, only a few miles away.”

Charlie chuckled. “If I know you, the coffee will need to be accompanied by a cake or pastry.”

“Maybe. Are you up for it?”

“Can I remind you that you stuffed a bacon roll down your neck barely an hour ago?”

Katy faced her and grinned. “I did, didn’t I? Naughty me. I need at least two cups of coffee to get me going in the morning, and so far, I’ve only had the one. That’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it.”

“You’re impossible. Go on then, if we must.”

After reviving themselves with a much-needed cup of coffee and resisting the tempting array of cakes on offer, they continued on their journey over to Laila Hewitt’s house, presuming she hadn’t ditched her married name by now after being cast aside the way she had.

The semi-detached red-brick house had a welcoming front garden which was a riot of colour. Bedding plants filled every possible gap in between the more permanent shrubs on either side of the path. Charlie beat Katy to ring the bell this time.

The door opened to reveal a woman in her late forties to early fifties resembling Cherie Blair, the former Prime Minister’s wife. Her petite frame was clad in a rich velvet green leisure suit.

Katy displayed her warrant card. “Laila Hewitt, I’m DI Katy Foster, and this is my partner, DC Charlie Simpkins. Do you have a free moment to speak with us?”

“Oh my. The police? What on earth could you want with me?” The rosy colour quickly left her cheeks.

“Would it be possible to come inside? It might be better.”

“Better? For whom? I have extremely nosey neighbours, Inspector, I’ll be the talk of the street if I let you in. No, say what you have to say here, where my neighbours can see you.”

Katy hadn’t been expecting her to respond in that way. She cleared her throat and asked, “Very well. May I ask if you’ve heard from your ex-husband recently?”

“No. Why should I hear from him? He’s made his bed…so to speak.”

Katy nodded. “We’re aware there might be some animosity between you.”

“Understatement of the decade. I hate the bastard for what he put me through. The humiliation. The shame only a man without love in his heart could bestow upon someone —their wife, should I say.”

“It must have been very difficult for you to deal with. Please, I have some news and I’d rather not tell you while standing on your doorstep.”

Finally relenting, she stepped aside and allowed them to enter. She pointed into the hallway. “First room on the right. Excuse the mess, I was just going through my photo albums and getting rid of anything pertaining to my former husband. It’s taken me months to pluck up the courage to get around to