Problems Shared

This is basically a rewrite of a previous story, 'A New Beginning' It has been fleshed out and a different ending added, to please those who told me that the previous ending was rushed. I'll probably be criticised now for drawing it out too long. Ah well, you can't please them all. CM

*

She was a pharmaceutical blonde, of that I was almost certain, she was young, probably no more than 19 or 20, from what I could see as the breeze fashioned her sun dress against her curves, she was stacked, physically at least, and she gave the impression that her contribution to an intelligent conversation would be, "Do you want fries with that?"

I threw her a 'good morning' as I passed her, nothing unusual with that, I throw these at most people that I pass on my morning walk. "Is it?" She asked me in little more than a whisper.

I stopped and took a closer look at her. There was something fragile about her appearance, and it wasn't that she was slowly recovering from a hard night's drinking or something. There was something more to her than that.

"Why would you say that?" I asked her. "It is a beautiful morning, just enough sun that it doesn't burn you, just enough breeze that it keeps you cool, not enough people around to bother you, how could you not think that this is a good morning?"

She looked at me, as I looked at her. I came to the opinion that she wasn't as dumb as I initially thought, at the same time that she came to the conclusion that, given half the chance, I wasn't about to jump her bones. In that she was wrong, given even as little as a quarter the chance I would have jumped her bones with enthusiasm, I was that desperate for female companionship. I had just recently come to terms with the stupidity of the twelve months of my self-imposed celibacy.

The past twelve months of my life, if you could call it that, were a mixture of anger, bitterness, frustration and depression, clearly not the time for logical decision making. I was angry that Rosie my wife was dead. I was angry that Constable Plod and his mental midget mates of the local Police force were convinced that I had killed her. I, because of my job that took me around the world on a regular basis, was denied bail because I was considered a flight risk. This of course failed to acknowledge the fact that I had a couple of young kids that needed my support at that time of confusion for them. The court ignored my Lawyer's pleas on my behalf, and couldn't, or wouldn't understand that the kids, Ryan who was 7 and Rhianna, 5, were old enough to realise that their mother had gone and wouldn't be coming back, and yet not be able to understand why she was no longer around to love them and care for them. I relied heavily on both grandmothers to look after them over the months between my arrest and the farce that was my trial. Picking up the pieces of my life was the most difficult job that I have ever faced. That I got through it was a testament to the support from both my parents and Rosie's, and the love of my kids.

"There's a seat down here a bit, why don't we sit down and you can tell me all about your problems. No strings attached." I added hastily.

She was about to tell me to fuck off, but thought better of it. "Okay, but why are you doing this?"

I got the impression that she thought that I had an ulterior motive, one of getting into her pants. "Because, I don't like to see someone like you unhappy. You would look much better with a smile on your face." She tried a smile that was as fake as her hair colour. "Not that kind of smile."

"I have nothing to smile about."

"Then tell me what you have that's not to smile about, and I'll see if I can help you."

"No-one can." She was convinced of that.

"Try me."

She took some time to gather her thoughts, time enough for me to take yet a closer look at her. She was wearing a bra, that was obvious, that she needed to wear one was problematic, I doubted that she did. Her legs, as much as showed below the hem of her dress, were shapely and showed signs that she was no stranger to the sun. She definitely was not a muffin top (those with a roll of fat over the waist line), all in all, a tidy package. She looked at me and smiled when she realised that I had been looking at her. "I have just been told . . . , that I will not be given a passing grade unless I go to bed with my Professor. The more often I go to bed with him, the higher the grade."

"I thought that sort of thing didn't happen anymore."

"It does, believe me. What he initially thought was that I was some dumb bimbo who would go to bed with anyone. When he read my first assignment he realised that I wasn't dumb, so he began to mark me down, to give me lower grades than the assignment merited. When I questioned this was when he hit me with his suggestion that I should go to bed with him, well, go to his office couch with him. He is married, so his bed was out of the question."

"Can't you complain to the University authorities, the Vice-Chancellor for instance?"

"I doubt that that would do any good, the rumour around the campus is that the Vice-chancellor's one of the worst offenders, or at least he used to be before he was promoted."

"I wish that there was some way that I could help you."

"Maybe we could help each other."

"What do you mean?"

"I noticed you as you walked towards me, the body was walking towards me but the mind was way off there somewhere else. You were so deep in thought that I was surprised when you spoke to me. I didn't think that you had even noticed me."

"It would be hard not to, you'd stand out in a crowd."

"Thank you. Now getting back to you, what is your problem? Is it your wife?"

"Why would you ask me that?"

"I noticed the wedding ring, that usually means that a man's problems are with his wife. My immediate thoughts were that you would hit me with that line about her not understanding you and your needs, and that you were separated, and divorce is a distinct possibility."

"I no longer have a wife." I said softly.

"She left you and you have been unable to let go, is that it?"

"She died a year ago, she was murdered."

"How sad for you." Her eyes opened wide as recognition set in. "Wait a minute, you're that man that was charged with murdering his wife, but when it came to your trial the judge threw it out. He called it a travesty, a miscarriage of justice and recommended that the police in charge of the investigation be suspended."

"That's the one."

"Patrick O'Laughlin, that's your name isn't it? I saw it on TV, your wife was missing from home and you were pleading for help in finding her. The speculation was that you had done it, and that those were crocodile tears that you were shedding."

"That's what the police thought. Because many such cases are usually committed by a spouse or close family member, they assumed, wrongly in my case, that this was yet another of these. They spent more time searching for a motive, as to why I should have killed her, than actually finding the real murderer."

"I never believed that you did it for one minute. I just couldn't see you doing it."

"Thank you. Even now there are still some out there who think that I did it."

"But why would they think that? You were never convicted. There was no evidence to suggest that to be the case."

"Because," I paused for second or two, "the real killer has not yet been caught. To these people, with the lack of a viable alternative, there is still some doubt as to my innocence."

"So what have you done about this?"

"Nothing. What can I do? The police are reluctant to help. I had made them look bad, at least that was how they looked at it. I did nothing to even hint that they were incompetent. I kept my feelings hidden inside, I couldn't afford to let them out in case they took it as me trying to divert attention from my guilt."

"So, you're not doing anything about it?"

"I didn't say that. I have not been thinking straight this past year, what with being slammed in gaol, and now having to try and get back into work while still thinking about the kids having to go to their grandmother's house every day after school. I just haven't had time to get my head around all of this until now."

"So, what are you doing about it now?"

"I have been going through in my mind everything that happened in the lead up to her murder to see if I can find a reason. Or if there is any evidence of someone either stalking her, or who had some other motive for killing her."

"Any luck yet?"

"This is pretty much a cold case. My lawyer has applied for access to all of the police evidence to see if there is anything in among all of that that can give us a lead. I'm just on my way to see him now."

"Can I tag along, just for a little while, I feel less alone now thanks to you stopping to chat."

"Sure thing. Do you realise that you are the first woman, apart from Mother and Rosie's mother, and the Psychologist that I was advised to go and see, and probably supermarket checkout operators, although they hardly constitute a meaningful conversation, that I have spoken to in the past year?"

"It's no wonder that you feel down on the world, you haven't had the scintillating conversation with a woman to brighten up your day." She smiled at me, it was a great smile, and I had no real alternative but to respond. For once in a long time, I actually felt like I was a human, and not some zombie stumbling through life.

We arrived outside my Lawyer's office. "Look," She said, "I don't think it would look good me coming in with you. He might not take this the right way, you swanning around the countryside with someone young enough to be your daughter."

"I'm not that old." I leapt to my own defence.

"See, before you stopped to talk to me you would have shut up and not said anything. I've had some impact on you. There's a cafe a couple of doors down, I'll wait for you there. If you haven't arrived in half an hour I'll take it that you've stood me up and slink off back into my hole and die."

"I can't have that now, can I? Do you have a phone on you?" I looked at her and realised the stupidity of that question, there was nowhere on her person that she could carry a phone.

"Yeah, sure, it's in my bra propping up my left tit." She smiled to let me know that she was not worried by my faux pas, and that she was relaxed in my company.

"I tell you what, I'll give you mine, and if I'm going to be held up a little longer than expected, I'll borrow a phone and call you. You can read out the menu for me and you can order for me. I'll pay for both of us, so you see there is no way that I'm not going to come to you. There is one little request."

"What is that?"

"No peeking at my SMS or MMS messages, okay?"

"As if I'd be interested in what you, or your friends, have to say to each other."

The name Guthrie Ainsworth conjures up images of a very proper English gentleman, with several paragraphs dealing with him and his antecedents in Debrett's Peerage or 'Who's Who', all pinstripe and bowler hat. Nothing could be further from the truth. He may have inherited the name from that section of English aristocracy, but he was Aussie through and through. "G'day Paddy, how're they hanging?"

"No complaints Mate. Have you got the stuff that you were after?"

"Not without going through a lot of bullshit from our friends in the police force. It would appear that they are of the mistaken opinion that we are going to crucify them. I had to lie through my teeth to convince them otherwise."

"So, what have you found, if anything?"

"There is a list of things that are of interest to us, once we can work out what they might mean. They have listed all of her phone records, both her mobile and your land-line. There are some interesting calls to and from someone that they either couldn't trace or chose not to in their haste to convict you. I have tried to trace them myself, but I have neither the expertise nor the patience. I'll give you the list, see if you can work out who the calls were to." He handed me several sheets of phone records. "Her last call was just fifteen minutes before her death, how that never set off alarm bells is beyond me." There were several items on the list that were highlighted in yellow. "One thing that has surprised me, they never spoke to any of her friends other than to see if her friends said anything that could incriminate you. None did."

"Of course they didn't. I would have expected nothing else from them."

"I had a guy that I use for such a purpose talk to some of them, and they were quite forthcoming with information that throws a whole new light on the subject. There was something bothering her in the weeks leading up to her death. She wouldn't tell them what it was except to say that it was nothing that was connected to you."

"That's a relief at least."

"One of them mentioned that she had told her that she had taken a safety deposit box at a bank, not your usual one, and placed some papers in there for safe keeping. We have not yet been able to find out which bank it is, but we'll keep trying. You may have better luck, being as you're her husband."

"If you give me that person's details I can have a talk to her and see if I can find anything out. What about the kids' school, I haven't thought of this before, but maybe there was someone taking an interest in her, like a strange car that wasn't dropping off or picking up."

"I'll have that checked out."

"There is one other line of enquiry. Maybe, and this is a very long shot, but I seem to remember that there were problems with a guy that she worked with that was hitting on her, this was before Ryan was born. She had rejected him of course, and then when she told them at work that she was pregnant and planning to leave, he got really weird. She was glad to get out of there."

"Do you know his name?"

"No, but I can call one of the women that she worked with, I'm sure that she would remember."

"Do it. Is there anything else that you can think of?"

"No. I'll call you when I've found something out."

"That's it, think positive. Good luck Mate."

"Yeah, see ya." We shook hands and I left.

I saw her as soon as I entered the cafe. She stood and smiled at me as soon as the door closed behind me. God it did my heart good to see her. Even if we never saw each other again, today has been something else. I felt like a man again, a new man.

"I was beginning to worry." She said as I arrived at her table. "I kept looking at the phone and wishing it to ring, just to let me know that you were not a figment of my imagination who somehow lent me his phone." She handed it back to me. "I think that you should give me your phone number, just in case I need someone to talk to, a shoulder to cry on."

"I will if you will." She held her hand out for my phone. I have never seen anyone text so fast before. Within seconds she handed it back to me. I glanced at the screen. "Thank you Rachel Becket, I'll treasure this. Now what looks interesting?" I looked at the menu card that was standing in this holder thing, along with those long skinny tubes of sugar and condiments.

"I'm starving, I've just realised that I left home without breakfast. I'll have the spicy chicken foccacia with salad, a slice of the disgustingly fattening double chocolate cheesecake and a Latte, thank you." She pronounced it 'thenk ya'. I chose a club sandwich and a flat white coffee. There's no difference in the amounts of milk and coffee in both, for the latte the coffee is poured through the frothed milk, while the flat white the milk is poured over the coffee. I eschewed the dessert.

"I was thinking, while I was waiting for Guthrie, he's my Lawyer, to find time for me."

"Oh, oh."

"Hear me out. Why don't you start up one of those 'name and shame' Web sites and encourage others to name Professors who obtain sexual favours in response to giving higher grades. I'm sure that you're not alone among the female student population that has been hit on like this."

"I know that I'm not. Let me think about this. I need to speak to some of the others to see if they'll back me up on this before I go ahead with it."

"If you don't use you real names there'll be no come back, at least I hope not."

Our food arrived and we exchanged bits and pieces of conversation between mouthfuls. "When you hand your assignment in, are you in a group, like a tutorial group, or is it in person?"

"In a tute group, and they're handed back in the group as well."

"When you questioned his grading, was that in his office or within the group?"

"In his office. He does not like to be questioned in public. He has made that very clear."

"Okay, what are you like as an actress?"

"I can get by most of the time, what do you have in mind?"

"Have you seen the last film of the Millennium Trilogy, 'The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets' Nest'?"

"Yes."

"Do you remember Lisbeth Salander's trial, how she was dressed?"

"Yes. If you're suggesting that I get a million piercings and a punk hair style you can forget it."

"You don't think that Noomi Rapace looks like that in real life, do you?"

"No, but I bet she spent hours in make-up to achieve that look."

"A lot of that was to make her face look as if she gone ten rounds with a threshing machine. I'm sure that a competent make-up artist could achieve something like that in a short period of time. I think a punk wig would cover your real hair, so there'll be no need to cut it, although, if you wanted to, you could revert back to your real colour and have it cut in a punk style." I was waiting for her reaction, was she going to deny that her hair colour was fake?

"I could do that. I'd feel strange, it has been this colour for years."

"You do realise that being a brunette would add another ten percentage points to your IQ don't you?" She had probably heard that one before, hundreds of times, but she laughed just the same.

"What do you intend that I do with this get-out?"

"When you go to your next lecture with him dressed as a punk, you approach him after the lecture and tell him that you're ready to have sex with him. See what he says, chances are that he'll bail. If he doesn't, in amongst your lecture notes and stuff in the bag that you'll have over your shoulder will be a miniature camcorder, I can provide that if you can't get hold of one, but they're freely available from most electronics stores. You shouldn't have sex with him, just fight him off, kick him in the balls if you feel that way inclined. You now have a record of his attempt to coerce you into sex for grades. Put that out on the Web and see what happens."

"All right, I'll think about it. I won't make any promises mind you. Now, I don't know what you have planned for the rest of the day, but I have an assignment to complete. I'll have to love you and leave you. I'm sure that you have enough to keep you occupied." We both stood to leave.

"Yes, I do. I have taken this morning off work to see my Lawyer, but I need to get back to work. I have some catching up to do, and now that I give the appearance of having shaken off the crap that I've gone through this past year, I can't expect them to carry me any longer. If you need me, call, okay?"

"I was just about the say the same thing. Good-bye then." She kissed me on the cheek, her hand that had rested on my shoulder moved up and caressed my cheek. And then she was gone, walking down the street away from me with that casual, loose limbed stride that I had already imagined to be the case. The sun shining through her dress created a spectacular silhouette. She was even gorgeous from behind.

The afternoon went quickly. I rang Georgia, one of the girls that Rosie had remained friends with after leaving work. "Hi George, it's Patrick, you know Rosie's husband."