Chapter 2

R.S. Automotive, Penrith

7^th August

The Man

Mr Shaftoe,

I think you ought to know, your wife is having an affair with a colleague at work. They’ve been going at it for some time now and I think it’s time you did something about it.

A Friend.

I picked up the phone.

‘Hello Jackie, can you get hold of Ivan in I.T.?’

‘Certainly Mr Shaftoe, I’ll track him down and get him to call you’

‘Thank you Jackie. Quick as you can please.’

I’d never been one for knee jerk reactions. Sara used to laugh about how long it took me to get angry or react to frightening situations. In my university days, I had an accident on my motorbike. The engine seized on a fast bend and I ended up lying on the road with a forty-ton truck coming over the hill towards me. The truck stopped only two metres from me and the driver helped me pick up the bike. I pushed it to a lay-by and did a partial strip and rebuild of the seized engine. Then I rode on to my summer job. It wasn’t until I got to work that my mouth went dry and I started to shiver. It was the same when Colin died. I knew all the dangers, but didn’t feel the fear until the job was done. I felt the same way now, no anger, no tears, just a determination to get to the bottom of this. If it was a joke, I had to find the bastard that sent it and show him the error of his ways. On the other hand, if it was true then I had to decide what to do about Sara and her lover. I remember reading a quote from Sacha Guitry about this situation. “When a man steals your wife, there is no better revenge than to let him keep her.” No one had stolen her yet the question was, what was I prepared to do to stop it.

I’d just loaded Firefox when the phone rang.

‘Mister Shaftoe, I’ve got Ivan for you.’

‘Thank you Jackie put him through if you would.’

‘Hello Ivan?’

‘Yes Boss, what can I do for you?’

Ivan Gregoriev was a recent addition to the staff. The son of Ukrainian immigrants he had an honours degree in computer systems engineering and had worked for the metropolitan police in their forensic computing department. If there was something hidden on a computer, Ivan could find it, even after you had deleted it and wiped the disc. He told me once that internet anonymity was a myth. Right now, I was hoping he was right.

‘I’ve just received a disturbing anonymous email. What are the chances of finding who sent it?’

‘That depends, if I’d sent it you’d never find out. Do you know who the host company is?

‘Hotmail. That’s not good is it?’

‘Well, it might make it harder, it depends how smart the sender is. Why don’t you forward it to me and I’ll get to work on it?’

‘Do you need the whole email? The text is a bit personal.’

‘Just delete the message and send me the header.’

‘OK, I’ll do that straight away. Thanks Ivan, glad to have you on our side.’

‘No worries boss I’ll get back to you as soon as I’ve got something.’

I went back to my own investigations. The email said a colleague. Sara would never start something with a member of her own department; it would destroy her credibility as a manager. Come to that she was unlikely to hook up with any subordinate in any department. She had worked too hard to get where she was to risk it for a fling with an office boy. It dawned on me that I was thinking like I knew her well, but the woman I knew wouldn’t cheat, so maybe I was wrong. No, I had to believe I knew her at least a little. I did a LinkedIn search on Barnsdale Insurance. A large number of hits showed up employees of Barnsdale past and present. I ruled out all those who had moved on and was still left with forty possibilities. I looked through them one by one. When my Sara’s face beamed out at me, I felt the warm glow in my chest that I still got whenever I looked at her. I ran my finger over the picture on the screen. No, this had to be a sick joke. I was thinking about giving up when the phone rang.

‘Hello Boss.’

‘Hello Ivan, that was quick. Have you got something for me?’

‘I’ve got good and bad I’m afraid.’

‘OK, give me what you’ve got.’

‘The bad news is that the email was sent from an internet cafe in Berwick on Tweed. The Hotmail account was set up on the same day the email was sent, so it was probably set up specially. The name given in the setup was Commander Rimmer, so we can say he is a red dwarf fan. Probably the best lead is in the address he gave. People often have problems dreaming up imaginary addresses so they use one they know exists. Often a place where they used to live or a friend lives or lived. It’s a long shot but does 25 Saltswood Road, Newcastle, Tyne and Wear mean anything to you?’

‘I’m not sure Ivan, it does seem to ring a bell but I’m not sure why.’

‘Well, keep thinking because that’s the best chance you’ve got of finding the bastard.’

‘Thanks Ivan I owe you one.’

‘Least I can do boss, I enjoyed it. Got to keep my hand in you know. Do you want me to keep at it? It’s possible to get more but it will take a lot more time and it may not be worthwhile.’

‘No thanks just let it rest now.’

‘Well if you get another one send it to me. He might get sloppy and use his work or home computer. If he does we’ll nail him.’

‘I’ll do that Ivan. Thanks again’

I hung up the phone.

25 Saltswood Road, that address was burned into my memory. That was the house were Sara had lived for almost three years of university. I continued my search and soon found a face I’d hoped never to see again, Robert McIntyre. He was apparently director for sales at Barnsdale. Sara had lived with him for most of our time at university. The one who made her behave like a pet that he put on a lead and took for walks.

The man was a liar and a cheat. He played Squash at uni and I played against him several times. Whenever he couldn’t get to a ball, he would call it out. We would then argue for several minutes until I realised we would probably spend the whole of our court time arguing and not be able to finish a game. He was a good player but I was better. Because of his cheating, the only time I’d managed to beat McIntyre in a tournament was when we weren’t drawn to play each other in the early rounds. From the quarterfinals onwards, we had umpires, with whom there could be no arguments. I thrashed him and was hated for it. The hate was mutual but it for me it had nothing to do with Squash. I hated him for the way he treated Sara. He seemed to enjoy humiliating her. It was as if he had to impose his will on everyone he met. Everything in life was a competition and he had to win at all costs. My heart sank when I saw the profile. Sara must have encountered him but she’d said nothing. If there was nothing going on, why hadn’t she mentioned the fact that she had run into someone we both knew from university. If Sara was having an affair, then he was the most likely candidate but why would he send the email? I sat thinking about this for a while when Jackie came in with mid-morning coffee. She set it down on my desk.

‘You look worried Mr Shaftoe, is there something wrong?’

‘Nothing that you can help with I’m sad to say.’

‘Oh, you’d be surprised at the things I could help you with’ she said with a beaming smile on her face.

I grinned back at her. ‘Get out of here before I forget that we are both married to other people.’

I watched the sway of her hips as she walked to the door her skirt accentuated the curve of her bum and the high heels gave her that wiggle as she walked. We frequently flirted, each knowing the other would not take it further than that. She was more than a P.A. she was a friend; one I could rely on to lighten a dark day.

Dragging my thoughts away from Jackie and back to the job in hand, it dawned on me. It was a game and the email was a challenge.

McIntyre was saying ‘I’m fucking your woman and there’s nothing you can do about it.’

What did he expect to happen? That I would tire of the argument and just let him take her? Roll over and pretend it wasn’t happening or kick her out on her arse? Whatever he expected, he wasn’t going to get it.

I looked again at the picture on the screen.

‘Well Bobby boy, you’ve only played me at games where I didn’t care about the outcome. A squash point here or there who gives a damn. But fucking with my family is a whole new ball game, one you will regret playing.’

His LinkedIn profile said he lived in Bishop Auckland. A little more searching and a small payment found all the Robert McIntyre’s on the electoral role for Bishop Auckland, along with their addresses and phone numbers. The addresses ruled out a number of the candidates. The McIntyre I knew would have a house commensurate with his status. Knowing the town the way I did, I chose the most likely candidate and called the number.

‘Hello Bethany McIntyre speaking.’

‘Hello Bethany, is Robert at home?’

‘No, I’m afraid he’s at head office today. Is it something I can help with?’

‘Oh I don’t think so I am due to renew my company insurances and Robert did say to contact him when I was ready to negotiate.’

‘I don’t think he gets directly involved with selling insurance now. I think you’d be better off dealing with the office. Do you have the number?’

‘Yes I have and I’m sure you’re right, I’ll give them a call. Thank you, good bye’

I had all I needed, disconnected the call and immediately started another. Alec Johnson was a man I used for background checks on potential employees. He didn’t like to be called a detective. He didn’t follow people around to catch them in the act. No Alec was a man who specialised in finding skeletons in cupboards. Given a day or two, he would trace your history back to birth with all the mistakes you made along the way. If a boy was caught in the girl’s toilets at school Alec would find out about it. He employed people to do the gumshoe jobs, he also had financial experts who could analyse your accounts and find every little fiddle you’d tried to get away with. He didn’t come cheap but he was the best.

‘Hello Alec, Ronald Shaftoe, I’ve got a job for you.’

‘That’s usually why you call me. Who do you want checked out?’

‘His name is Robert McIntyre; he is sales director for Barnsdale Insurance. I’ll email you everything I have on him.’

‘So how much do you want to know?’

‘Everything, I want to know when he takes a shit. I want to know if he ever cheated on an exam. I want to know if he cheats on his wife and if so with whom. I want to know if he fiddles his expenses. Anything you can find out really. I’ll give you two weeks.’

‘Right you are Mr Shaftoe. This seems like a lot more than an employee check. Has this guy done something to you?’

‘I can see how you might think that but don’t ask me to comment.’

‘OK, you’re the boss, everything I can find in two weeks.’

‘Thanks Alec, I’ll wait to hear from you.’

I disconnected and sat back in my chair. I looked at the screen again.

‘That’s it Bobby boy, the wheels are in motion. I’m coming after you, and you had better be ready.’

Kendal

17^th August

The Wife

I’d said I wouldn’t do this again yet here I am driving to the restaurant to meet him. I have to admit that when he walked into my office three months ago, he was the last person I expected to see. We chatted for a while and he seemed to have changed a great deal. He was less arrogant than he had been at university and I have to say he was charming. I didn’t believe him when he said I hadn’t changed in twenty years but it did me good to hear it. When a girl turns forty, she starts to worry about whether she is still attractive to the opposite sex. Of course, Ronnie always told me I was beautiful but he would, he’s my husband. It’s his job to say things like that. Hearing it from Robert was something different; he had no obligation to me and had certainly never said anything like that when we were together. Somehow, it seemed to mean more when Robert told me I looked good.

I’m not sure why I hadn’t told Ronnie we had met. Perhaps it was because I knew how much he disliked Robert. I certainly had no intention of getting involved. I was surprised to see Robert at the London conference on insurance fraud; it was not really his territory. In the evening, he sought me out and we had dinner together. I didn’t think I had much to drink so I was shocked to wake up and find Robert in my bed. I remember feeling around, finding the bed damp, and my pussy feeling as if I’d had sex. I was horrified and very angry with Robert. I showered, dressed, packed my bag and left him, still asleep. All day and all the way home I was desperately unhappy. I felt guilty and angry with myself for allowing it to happen. I had been unfaithful to my husband. I hadn’t meant to and I didn’t know how it happened but it had. I didn’t know how I was going to face Ronnie; I felt like I was wearing the badge of the adulteress. I wasn’t, of course, Ronnie did notice something but I told him I was unhappy at being away from him so long. He threw his arms around me and held me tight. We didn’t bother with dinner we went straight to bed. I’ve heard of women giving their husbands mercy sex or even guilty sex after they have been unfaithful. It really wasn’t like that. I wanted to feel him around me and inside me. I wanted to feel loved as if he’d forgiven the indiscretion he didn’t even know about.