Chapter Five

“Richard fixed his stare on his hands, fiddling with them nervously. He sat alone in Philip's office with the loud voices of children reaching him from outside.

Lunch break, he remembered with a smile. He could see some students walking past the window, engaging in the most interesting conversation to them. It made him remember what it was like when he was here, not as a teacher but a student. More than thirty years ago.

He barely had friends, he recalled. Most of them labelled him as weird and uncomfortable to be with. He'd soon grown accustomed to it, and even enjoyed it most times, seeking to remain on his own at every given point.

That was until he met Charles Vincent in the 9th grade.

It still surprised him how the vitality of the most popular kid in class back then rubbed off him. Richard the loner, being friends with Charles the Popular. A very unlikely and awkward match up of personalities.

But it was real, his best moments of high school.

Until he met Bianca.

‘Oh, good. You're here.’

Richard heard the door close behind him. Philip soon walked into his view, moving around the table he was seated before and sunk into his own chair. No apologies for keeping him waiting, no remorseful gestures. Just a stone-faced expression and a scowl.

He attacked his desk with a certain aggression that caused Richard to stare wide-eyed. Yanking his drawers loose, he began to empty the contents in the table.

Several dog-eared files held together by a single ribbon, a couple of pencils, a receipt book, and a wooden handle stamp. He returned the other items from where he took them, untied the knot that bound them, and fished into them. He pulled out a file, opened it, and began reading into it.

Afterwards, he pulled out a pen from the brown porcelain vase resting on a journal at the edge of the table. Then he began to write.

All this time, Richard just watched.

He knew he did it intentionally, completely acting like he wasn't even there when he was the one who sent for him.

‘You called for me, sir?’ Richard reminded him, after 10 long minutes of awkward silence.

‘Has Bianca called you yet?’ Philip didn't even bother to look at Richard. He just kept ticking and writing into the file.

‘Bianca?’ The mention of her name made his head spin a little. The memories attached to that name alone were intoxicating.

Exquisite. Heartbreaking.

The very definition of bitter-sweet.

Richard wouldn't have guessed in a million years that he'd still react like this to her memories. Let alone be summoned by Philip to talk about the one subject that they both had in common, yet refused to acknowledge.

‘Yes, Bianca.’ Philip snapped. He dumped the file and sat back, boring holes into Richard's soul with his glare.

‘She mentioned that you haven't been taking her calls. Is this true?’

Richard twisted in his seat, his face drawn up in confusion. ‘There have been a few missed calls, and those weren't intentional," he admitted. ‘And I've been meaning to call her back. I've just been really—’

‘Really what?’ Philip cut in. ‘Busy? Is that it? You're really too busy for her now?’

‘No, no. That isn't it. I just—’

Richard paused suddenly. His shock was slowly replaced by anger. How was it any of his business what he did and didn't do? Last time he checked, Bianca wasn't even his responsibility anymore. So, what exactly was his problem?

‘Is there a problem, sir?’ Richard simply asked, with a calmer countenance than before.

Philip looked at him like he got up from his chair and slapped him square in the face.

‘The problem, Richard, is that I trusted you with the most precious thing in my entire life.’ Philip said bitterly. "And you completely fumbled with it. With her.’

Richard could feel his temperature rise with each word. As much as he respected Philip, he knew there was only much he could take. And he'd approached the limit.

‘You're forgetting one thing, sir.’ His voice was still surprisingly level. He looked past Philip's glass lenses and straight into his eyes.

‘Bianca was the one who left. It was never otherwise.’

Philip smacked the table with his fists suddenly. The stationery in the vase rattled from the force, and the stack of files tilted to one side. A small picture frame fell flat on the table.

Richard, on the other hand, didn't even bat an eye.

Philip breathed heavily, with his face adopting a light shade of pink. He stabbed a finger in the air, aimed at Richard.

‘Don't you ever call her name with that level of disrespect.’

Richard watched him for a moment, then he sat forward with one hand resting on his knee.

‘Believe it or not, sir, I loved your daughter. With everything I had. Right from the moment I first met her, here in this school decades ago, I felt we had a connection like no other. One I couldn't establish with anyone else. Even now. But trying to guilt trip me into believing I didn't try to save our marriage when it crumbled isn't at all fair. Maybe I didn't do enough, but I tried my best. I really did.’

With Philip's silence, Richard proceeded out of his chair and towards the door. With his hand on the doorknob, he turned back to Philip, who all of a sudden looked burnt out.

‘For your information, Bianca and I have already reached an agreement regarding the assets she'd inherit following the proceedings of the divorce. And she wants none of it.’

Richard banged the door when he finally stepped out, resting his head on the tag attached to the door.

A tag that read ‘PRINCIPAL.’ ”

★

The rays of the sun went through Joshua's windscreen, easily distributing heat to his face and upper body. The past few days have been colossal in terms of temperature rise. And the next couple of days exuded signs of getting worse.

In the city, no one would complain. It was summertime, after all. But even the summer looked boring in Chesterfield Springs.

Joshua couldn't relate, though. His summer was shaping up to be one hell of a ride.

Following the shocking revelations of the past few days, he made an agreement with Tracy to pay Mrs. Walters another visit. However, such an arrangement couldn't be made as she had a scheduled visit to a specialist to help cope with her son's death. Eventually, both detectives decided to leave the poor woman alone. For now.

With many left to interrogate and very little time left, the pair had decided to pick their targets and divide their duties. Logically, more ground could be covered this way.

Tracy was to handle Jennifer and Martha Walters, Joshua had Daniel Walters, and the mysterious Shawn, who was one of the last people to see Johnathan alive.

But, first things first. He had Eleanor Rigby on the top of his list.

Finding her current address was easy enough, nothing a detective badge and tense words like " . . . for investigation purposes," couldn't solve. By tracking her cell phone usage and history, Joshua was able to pinpoint her exact location judging from her most recent phone calls and messages. Of course, thanks to assistance from his friends at the Telecommunications Agency.

She was lodged in the Springs Hotel, which was located in the heart of the town. It was almost as if the people of Chesterfield Springs expected little to no visitors, so it was the only hotel in the entire settlement. Coming into Chesterfield simply meant you had family or friends to stay with, and the hotel simply served as a backup for unexpected cases.

Now he sat in his car, waiting for the right time to pounce.

Actually, he was waiting to digest the latest chapter he'd just read from Jonathan's laptop. The story was intense, every single line of it. He swore he could feel Richard sweating, or hear Philip breathing angrily. He just wondered why Johnathan never thought to get this published. He knew beautiful writing when he saw it, and Johnathan simply had a gift for the written arts.

Another thing he noticed was how similar the story was to his reality. Just enough to label as a coincidence, but still.

The fact that Richard from the novel married and divorced Bianca just like Johnathan married and divorced Eleanor was a rather spooky coincidence. And Richard having father-in-law issues with Philip like Johnathan was said to have with Derrick.

It was all too good to be coincidental.

But, wasn't that the point of being a good writer?

To create scenes so real that your audience begins to see the resemblance to reality. To be able to relate the fictional to the factual with ease.

Perhaps, Johnathan used events from his life to inspire the creation of his work. That wouldn't mean it's his life documented in a system, would it?

Joshua sighed as he rubbed his eyes repeatedly. A little sleep could come in handy now, he mused.

Just as the pictures of dancing sheep and big glasses of milk clouded his mind, he spotted a familiar figure getting out of a taxi and heading for the revolving doors.

She wore a different attire from the first day; a short bright yellow gown with sunflower patterns splashed all over it, with the hem just reaching her knees, and some fancy, old-school, brown cowboy boots. But Joshua had no trouble at all recognizing her.

"Eleanor Rigby," he muttered.

She slung a brown purse over her shoulders and strolled into the building.

Fifteen minutes later, so did Joshua.

The lobby wasn't as grand as Joshua had seen in most hotels, but he ignored that. That wasn't his concern or focus at the moment. Besides, it wasn't the first time he'd walked into the hotel that day.

The only reason he was able to pinpoint the exact time of her arrival was because of the information he'd received earlier from the receptionist at the counter. Of course, there was a recitation of customer's privacy and other gibberish. But the power of his badge was more than enough to make her sing like a canary.

Now he simply walked towards her and nodded. She nodded in response.

So he made his way up the stairs, to room 404.