Chapter 6

It was approaching eleven at night when John returned to the house from Tom’s, only to find a police car outside. He mentally kicked himself for not having his mobile phone switched on. He parked on the drive and entered the house.

The officer who had been waiting for him, stood up and approached him and asked for identification. He gave it and the man took him round the house.

The house was trashed. Entry was gained by smashing a large window. The place was a wreck. His laptop had been stamped on, all the hi–fi equipment useless. The bedding had been ripped to shreds with a knife. Oil poured all over the kitchen surfaces and floor, a number of wine bottles had been smashed and the contents and broken glass added to the oil. In the living room, the sideboard which contained his whiskies was tipped over, but miraculously all the bottles but one were intact and the broken one was a blend. Not one of the precious single malt whiskies was spilt. John, not especially religious, offered a fervent prayer of thanks.

He added another prayer of thanks that he had not furnished the whole house, and that the furniture he had bought was not expensive, but designed to tide him over until he could buy good stuff piece by piece.

“Can you see if anything’s been taken?” the officer asked.

“Not easy, but if they didn’t take the laptop, or the video recorder, there’s nothing else in the house worth taking. I’ve only just moved in, and most of the house is not yet furnished. Furthermore, judging by what they did to the laptop, the motive was destruction,” John said. “Let me see if the filing cabinet’s intact.”

It was upside down but otherwise untouched since it was locked. He suspected the contents would need a day’s re-filing.

“No. They just wanted to trash the place,” John said.

“That’s what we thought.” said the officer. “We got the man who did it. He was walking down the street trying to look innocent, but as it’s a cul-de-sac and he had oil down the front of his jeans it was a dead give-away.” The man laughed dryly.

“D’you know who he is?”

“He’s not talking, but he will,” said the officer. “Anyone got it in for you?”

“Oh yes,” John said with feeling, “but I didn’t think he’d be daft enough to try something like this.”

Then he outlined what had passed between Liam and himself earlier that day, and the sacking of the man.

“If you come to the office tomorrow, I’ll let you hear the tape of the interview.”

The house was uninhabitable, so John went to a hotel for the rest of the week, then spent Wednesday morning at the office employing a company to clean and repair the house, another to replace the picture window, and informing the insurance company of an impending claim. He asked his cleaning woman to supervise, but not to attempt to clean up any of the mess herself.

Then he set about ordering a new laptop and other electric and electronic items that had been trashed. He was thankful that he had backed up his work and that the back-up hard drive was in his briefcase in his car.

In the afternoon he was met by two plain clothes men, who listened to the tape, nodded and left.

“Lee Irwin,” said one on the way out. “Know him?”

“My ex-wife’s brother,” I said.

“Idiot had his balaclava in his pocket when we arrested him: the one he wore to evade detection by the CCTV cameras,” he laughed humourlessly, “As well as having cooking oil all down his jeans!”

John thought that Lee being arrested would not endear John to Carol, but he was past caring. There was no call from Carol.

After work he went to the supermarket and bought beer, wine and groceries to replace the stuff which had been scattered over the kitchen floor, and some bedding to be going on with. He checked the house and stowed what he had bought, keeping the receipts for the insurance. The house was well on the way to being as good as new. He went back to his hotel and had dinner.

It was nine o’clock when Tom rang his mobile, asking for an update on the vandalism. He told John he was going to see Susan on the next evening, Thursday. He thought she stayed at home that night, washing her hair or some such feminine activity.

On Thursday night, Tom rang him again.

“All sorted, I hope,” he said. “You want the story?”

“Please.”

“Well, I arrived at the house. Sue opened the door, very surprised. I said this was extremely important, and got inside. Then I mentioned your name. You should have seen her face! She didn’t want to know. So I asked her to read the stuff you gave me. She was reluctant but I asked her what had she got to lose.

“Well, she read it, all of it. Then she looked up at me and she was upset.

“‘Shit! This true?’ she asked. I pointed out that you’d hardly be able to get the CEO of a large international company to lie, and anyway what had they to gain? It puts a few of them in rather a bad light. She agreed. I think she called Carol a silly bitch. It was said with some feeling I can tell you.

“I begged her not to let on about any of this, that you deserved to tell her yourself. Oh, yes, she agreed to that. She’s totally on your side now and mortified at what has happened to you. She’s going to get Carol to meet you. Neutral ground, probably the pub.

“By the way, she said Lee Irwin’s been arrested.”

“Yes, I know,” John said. “He’s the one who trashed my house while I was with you.”