On A Rope (CH30)

             start of  ***ON  A  ROPE***

📓On Saturday, Saskia and her mother had to attend the wedding of a friend - making Sunday dinner with Neil a few hours later to cater for any hangover hang-ups. Since Saskia always called to let him know when she was setting off, an alert from reception baffled him. When told that it was the police, he felt his stomach drop.  Accident? Work break in? Car theft? That would have been far less feared and far easier dealt with. 

   The ping of the lift outside seemed to resonate louder when listening for it. The biggest dread he had tucked away and ignored for so long, with its it won't happen to us surety, was now indeed happening, and about to make its cold and unheralded entrance. As the shrill of the extended doorbell ring pierced the silence, the tense grip around his middle tightened. He closed his eyes, steeled himself, and grasped the doorknob.

    'Mr. Balfour?'

    'Yes,' Neil answered, frowning, hoping against hope that this was something connected with work. 

    'May we come in?'

    The first thing people usually do in the presence of police is ask right away what their visit was linked to before opening the door, but he swung it wide and guided them to the couch.  'Please,' he proffered a hand in the direction of his sofa's, 'take a seat.'  

    The men duly noted his quiet reaction to their criterion of interest; which could mean he knew what they might be here for, or it could be that he was just simply too nervous to ask. Neil however, duly noted that the men were wearing a suit apiece, rather than uniforms suggesting this was serious. He dreaded their words, but he'd have to be very careful with his own if his evincive hunch was right. Neil took a seat opposite them, certain his face portrayed the fear he felt.  The procedural actions to their inquiry began with introductions. Now crunch time had arrived. Fuck.

     'I'm Detective Bruce and this is Officer Prentice.'  

     He returned no pleasantry. 'Detective, huh? I'm obviously assuming it must be bad news. So... what brings you here? I'm guessing it's not for speeding,' he nervously joked. Neither man cracked a smile. Adding levity was not going to grace his favour. 'Break in at work again or something?'

     Both of them, (an older scrawny and overworked one who made the introductions) and his sidekick (half his age and twice the weight) gave no answer, just continued with the matter at hand. 'Can we just confirm that you know a Saskia Reymarr, Mr. Balfour?' 

     Yup. They'd gone straight for the jugular.  'My daughter... has something happened to her?' Neil leaned forward.

     The officers exchanged glances. 'No, she's not come to any harm, no accident or anything suchlike.'

     Anything suchlike? They knew.

     'That's good...' He simulated relief on that part. 'So what is it?'

     'We believe you've really only known of each other for a few months?'

     'Well since March, so yes.'

     'You get along okay?'

     'Fine.'

     'And you've built up a good relationship in the small period you've known each other, then?'

     'It's going well, so far.'

     'Bit of a shock, though, I guess. A daughter appearing out of the blue?' Prentice gave a contrived smile while taking notes, giving a miniscule shake of the head. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He would need to tread carefully, advance cautiously, avoid overcommitting. 'I don't mean to be rude, but where are we going with this?'

      Bruce, the older one, leaned himself more forward to exact precisely where they were.  'We're from the Sexual Offences Division.'

     Jesus Christ.                              

     'What!' Neil gulped down a huge lungful of air, and for a moment everything disconnected. He gave a strained smile. 'I don't understand?'

    The men exchanged glances once more.  'There's no easy way to put this, but we have been given information stating that you and your daughter may be involved in some...unnatural coupling.'  

     Neil frowned deeply. Bruce just said been given information, and not that there was any actual proof; it was vital not to slip up. The least said is the easiest mended. Darting his eyes from man to man in an attempt to look as if he didn't know what they meant, Prentice happily helped him out; he had no qualms in saying it.  'That you're involved with each other sexually.'

     No matter how geared up Neil felt against hearing the actual words, an ominous sensation still overwhelmed him; like a heavy blanket draping itself over him. His ears started to ring as blood rushed to his head, rendering him unpleasantly dizzy. But he had to grapple, take crucial control, whip up prior rehearsals into their feasible story. This scene played in his mind so many times at the start of entering into incest, and as time went on doubted it ever becoming an actuality. Yet here it was upon him.   

    Neil's hand flew to his mouth and closing his eyes, dragged it down over his lips and chin, all the while shaking his head.  'No, no, no, no, no!'  This movement was either saying: I've been rumbled or someone's got it in for me. He had to stick with the latter. 

     'I'm afraid so. We have to ask if it's true.'

     'Of course it's not true.. ' he snapped back, protestation his voice. '... what the fuck!' Then his head dropped, eyes on the carpet, quite clearly in shock. The men seemed to be in respect of that for a second or two, but needed to continue:

     'Any idea why somebody would make that up? It's a pretty sick accusation.'

     There were only two names flying around in his head. Brian or Saskia. Both he trusted implicitly. If it had come out during a row with Beverly, Saskia would have been straight on the phone to him - she made a promise to do that after her non-verbal weekend with Dan. 

     'Who am I suppose to be thinking of?'

     'Any associate have an axe to grind with you?'

     'What - like a disgruntled employee, rival, or jealous friend?'  He looked Bruce straight in the eye and the detective shrugged as if to say 'perhaps.'  'I have money - people tend to keep on your good side and most of my friends do okay for themselves anyhow, so I can't think of any enemies in that respect.'  It was a true enough assertion, and they believed he believed that.  'As for my work force, I demand results, but I pay a very decent wage, so not one person in particular springs to mind.  I don't think I've been uncouth enough to deserve this.'

     'Maybe someone thinks you have. And if it's untrue—' 

     'IF it's untrue... of course, it's untrue!'

    '—then that's a pretty cruel manner in which to punish someone.' 

     Starting to bite his bottom lip while tapping his foot - these visitants were quick at beginning to irk him - he stopped his motions the second he realised he was doing it; they'd pick up on any body languish. 'Look, I don't know what you're expecting from me, but I'd prefer not to be pussyfooted around, so what is it you're expecting to leave here with?'

   'I'm not sure what you mean, we're only following procedure, Mr. Balfour.' Prentice smiled at him.

   'Procedure?  A visit at this time in your Sunday best doesn't quite make one feel at ease, does it? A quiet word down at the nick not good enough? So excuse me if I have visions of being marched out of here in handcuffs after some coerced hefty confession!'

   'Confession? That's a bit strong?' The younger man frowned and stuck out his bottom lip, still looking down as he took notes; coming across contrived and knowing it. This little bloodthirsty fuck was enjoying this. But Bruce was quick to intervene, knowing how Prentice could be a little too keen to turn the thumbscrews.

   'Look, ' Bruced sighed. 'We're sorry if our presence has upset you, I know how intrusive it must feel, but we also have to consider that if the source of our information is lying, then you're the one getting the raw deal.'

  Despite being so pent up, Neil stayed quiet as if absorbing this. ' Yes, well,' he quietened his tone, 'your 'source of information' seems to have convinced you enough to act upon it. I take it you know who it was?'

   'We do, but I don't think that matters for now.' 

   'Why not? If someone has been given a raw deal, wouldn't they have the right to challenge it - know who's responsible for it?' Morally, of course, he was right. A police department wouldn't commit itself until it felt it had sound reasoning to, But both men knew though, they were unlikely to get anything incriminating directly from him. 

     'They would, they would. Look... maybe we're jumping too far ahead with this.' They'd been testing the water a little too deeply, and Neil was ahead of their questions a little too readily. It was important at this stage for them not to get out of their depth too soon, venture beyond their level of expertise prematurely - something Prentice would need to work a bit harder on.

     Neil sneered. 'Oh, you think so? Listen, this isn't something you do on a whim, is it? If you checked out every erroneous tip-off you got you'd be snowed under.  Someone's swayed you enough to check this nonsense out. You know as well as I do that this hasn't derived from the back of a simple phone call.' He stood, riling himself up again - enough now to shoot over to his decanter to fill himself a double and necking it. The glass cracked on it's slam down. 

   To them this showing of anger had two possibilities: One - frustration that the police know who called and had no meantime intention to disclose who. Two - the audacity of the person who involved them. 

 Whoever that was, most people wanted the bastard who dobbed them in punished - whether the bastard was telling the truth or not.  

     'Are you okay, Mr.Balfour?' Prentice asked, actually sounding sincere.

     'Of course, I'm not fucking okay... would you be?'

     A fraught silence fell until Neil apologised for his outburst, which was okayed by Bruce raising his hand and giving a curt nod. And while they seemed to be showing a fragment of understandability, he thought he played the deception card.   

     'I get that you have to follow up on information, but this is all wrong. Aye, my daughter's with me a lot, we've a lot of catching up to do, but she's got her own room there,' he explained calmly, pointing to a door. 'See for yourself - there's girly stuff's scattered everywhere. Does my bloody head in at times.'

     Ironically, they made a point of always leaving her bed with that 'slept-in-it' look - mainly for Valerie's benefit when she had come to clean it. But his words didn't really pack a punch or prove anything, although Price jotted something down then put his notepad into his pocket. Still, they both kept shtum.

   Neil gave a near-empty sigh. 'So what's gonna happen here onward?'

The question was ignored at first as Bruce had tapped Prentice on the shoulder, indicating with his head it was time to go. There were no more questions for now they could usefully ask; both men knew they were unlikely to get anything incriminating directly from him.  'We'll be going now, thanks for your time.' And they headed for the door.

     'Should I be needing legal advice?' Neil asked while following them on their exit before they had the chance to leave. 

    Had Prentice just foretasted a whiff of panic? A sly smirk crossed his face for the briefest moment before turning to answer him. 'Well, there's no arrest about to take place - with no solid proof there would be no need for that. The informant's probably got the wrong end of the stick, or even acted on hearsay - we don't know for sure. We have to follow up complaints nonetheless... besides, I'm sure Miss Reymarr will corroborate what you've told us.'  This was the part of the job he (and every smart-arsed detective) loved the most; the parting comments. 

     A  horrid heat spread over Neil's chest. 'You're going to see her now?'

     'No, we're not. Two officers are with her presently - both women, seeing as it's such an indelicate subject.' 

    'What? Surely there's no need to press any of this nonsense onto her?' 

    'Unfortunately we do. It takes two to tango, if you get the drift.'

    'Okay.'  He closed his eyes, nodding his head. No protest or outburst of any kind here would make matters better. He felt buggered. Good style.

     'Thanks for your time, Mr. Balfour. I shouldn't think you'll be seeing us again.'

     Closing the door behind them, he turned to rest against it, sagging in the middle with relief - but only because they'd gone. No way was this the end of it. That he knew. Not a hope in hell.

Back in the car, young Prentice slammed the door on the passenger's side and stated explicitly and loudly: 'He's a lying bastard.'

     'What makes you say that?' his partner asked.

     'Did you notice the photo on the side table?'

     'Course I did, Gary. It's our  job to notice everything.'

     'Well... all I can say is if it is her with him in that picture, my hand would be up her skirt too.' Bruce shot him a look, but Prentice wasn't sure if it was through amusement or irritation. 'What?'

     'Fuck's sake, man... your powers of deduction are impressive - d'you that?'  And with a twisted smile he pulled away, his curiosity to compare what story the female inspectors brought back to the station, stronger than ever.

                                   *                                             *                                          *                                                           

Pacing the flat, all sorts of crazy theories were going on in his head. Who? Why? How? The day they feared the most had been lying in wait after all, risk hanging more heavily over them with every clandestine move they made. A vast rehearsal of denials and excuses would need to be practiced ready for their part to play in keeping them unbroke;  caution and carefulness executed with utmost precision.  No inappropriate conduct in public, never sending incriminating texts - not even for deletion - and living their outside lives on everyone else's terms. They never thought they would ever have to use any protection plan.

There was no point in beating his brains out, it could only have come from one of two sources; Brian or Saskia, but surely she wouldn't have done anything stupid? And Brian had no reason to break his confidence or his promise. Not without facing Neil first.  Could the secret have been festering away inside Brian and he's talked? Then he dismissed the thought, Brian wouldn't do that.  But one thing was for sure - unless Beverly had been out this evening, she now knew. From her end, it was down to Saskia and how she was handling the questions and facts that vitally counted.  These officers were trained in getting to the truth and she would have to master a way out of this in regard to her mother, too.  He prayed she'd be strong. He wasn't ready to give her up. Only death held that role.

    The air indoors suddenly felt stifling, and Neil needed a breathing spell outside. Usually he treated his balcony as a podium to reflect, think and chill, but all he felt was fear and the whiskey burning like acid in his throat and rib cage - the Jack Daniels not giving him even the briefest pardon from this unfolding nightmare. And as much as he was tempted to call her, he opted for the cowardly approach and would wait until she called him. 

    It took a short while for him to realise that his jumper felt damp, that a misty rain was falling. Skies overhead rolled violet and anthracite - dramatically dark. The black clouds he could see through the lessening light lay in jagged stripes that ripped through the sky to his core. Where was the lilac horizon that said an early goodnight to London? If anywhere he hoped it was inside Saskia.  

   While turning to go back inside, his visitor-alert box buzzed. He walked straight to it. Pausing momentarily, he answered it to hear,

     'Dad, it's me... ' 

                   end of  ON  A  ROPE