4338.205.1 | Gladys Cramer | Suspicion
When a routine visit to Jamie's house leaves Gladys with more questions than answers, she finds herself navigating a web of suspicion that threatens to unravel the bonds of friendship.
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The chilly morning air of Hobart nipped at my cheeks as I pulled into the driveway of Jamie and Luke's house. It was a typical July morning in 2018, the heart of winter, with the sky a pale, washed-out grey, the kind that promised a cold day ahead. Their house, nestled among others in this quiet neighbourhood, had a comforting familiarity.
I parked the car, its heater having provided a small sanctuary from the brisk winter air. Beside me, on the front seat, lay the bottle of shiraz I had brought. "Don't you go anywhere," I told the bottle, my breath forming a small cloud in the cold air as I spoke. The words were half in jest, half in earnest. "I may still need to come back for you yet." The thought of returning to the warmth of my car and the comfort of the wine was a reassuring backup plan.
Reaching behind me, I grabbed the large plastic container from the backseat, its emptiness a stark reminder of the cheesecake it once held. My fingers felt slightly numb as I clutched the container, the cold seeping in despite my gloves.
I stepped out of the car, the crisp winter air greeting me fully now. My boots crunched softly on the frost-covered driveway as I made my way to the front door.
Raising my hand, I gave three solid knocks on the door, each one resonating against the wood and cutting through the morning silence. There was a brief pause, the kind that always seems longer when you're waiting on a doorstep, before the door opened.
As Luke opened the door, a wave of warmth from inside the house enveloped me, a stark contrast to the cold air outside. I couldn't help but smile as I caught sight of Duke, their adorable Shih Tzu, his eyes sparkling with the kind of joy only a pet can radiate.
"Duke!" I exclaimed, my voice bubbling with genuine cheerfulness, "Hello!" My greeting was enthusiastic, a reflection of the fondness I had for these little furry companions.
Luke stepped aside to let me enter. His movements were smooth and welcoming, an unspoken invitation into the cozy sanctuary of their home. I stepped in, feeling the immediate comfort of their well-loved and lived-in space.
As Luke closed the door behind me, Duke's excitement seemed to reach new heights. Luke gently put him down, and with an energy only a small dog could muster, Duke dashed over to his toy box. His brown-and-white coat flowed behind him like a miniature cape, a delightful sight that brought a smile to my face. He rummaged for a moment before triumphantly retrieving his prized toy, Horsey, which was almost comically as long as he was. Duke ran back to us, his tight tail wagging proudly with every step.
"Henri!" I called out, my attention turning to Duke's brother. Bending down, I reached out to pat Henri on the head. His tail-wagging was far less coordinated but no less endearing. Henri's tail was foxlike and beautiful, a striking feature that drew the eye. As he wagged it, the tail swished from side to side in a grand, sweeping motion. The entire back half of his body seemed to get involved, making the gesture somewhat hilarious.
I watched, amused, as Henri's enthusiastic tail-wagging caused his whole back end to wiggle. It was a charming, if somewhat clumsy, display. I remembered times when his excitement had been so great that his back legs had given out from under him, a testament to his unbridled joy. It was these little moments, so full of character and warmth, that made visits to Jamie and Luke's house such a delight.
"I'm just returning Jamie's cheesecake container," I said, my voice a mixture of casualness and a slight undercurrent of guilt, finally directing my full attention towards Luke. As I reached out to place the large, square container on the kitchen bench, a faint sense of embarrassment crept in. The container felt almost symbolic, a physical reminder of my long-standing friendship with Jamie and my somewhat lesser connection with Luke.
"Oh, thanks. I forgot about that," Luke replied, his voice easy and unconcerned as he moved the container over to the sink. His casual demeanour only heightened my blush. "Well, it has been several months since my birthday,” I admitted, trying to brush off the awkwardness with a light tone. The fact that Jamie had been my closest friend for decades only added to my sheepishness about holding onto the container for so long.
In an effort to deflect from my tardiness, I glanced down the hallway. "Where's Jamie?" I asked, my voice laced with genuine concern. Jamie wasn't just a friend; he was a significant part of my life, a companion through thick and thin over the years.
"He's in bed. He's not feeling well," Luke informed me, his tone carrying a hint of concern that immediately resonated with me.
"Oh no! What's wrong with him?" My concern deepened, the lightness in my tone replaced by genuine worry.
"Not sure. I think it's just a tummy bug." Luke sounded unsure, and I couldn't help but feel a pang of anxiety for Jamie.
"I'll just pop my head in and say hello," I suggested, already stepping towards the threshold of the lounge room door, my movements driven by an instinctive desire to offer comfort.
"No!" The word burst from Luke with unexpected force, halting me in my tracks. His sudden enthusiasm for the word seized my attention completely. Then, softening his tone, he continued, "I think he's asleep. He didn't sleep very well last night."
"Fair enough," I responded, albeit reluctantly, making my way back to the lounge. As I walked, a cold shiver of doubt ran down my spine. Luke's reaction was unusually sharp, almost protective. Did Luke just lie? The question echoed in my mind, unsettling me. My relationship with Luke had always been cordial, but it was fundamentally an extension of my deep bond with Jamie. This unexpected behaviour from Luke left me feeling uneasy, a sensation I wasn't accustomed to in the warm, familiar environment of Jamie's home.
The uneasiness in my stomach, stirred by the odd exchange with Luke, made me think twice about settling down on the couch. Its usually inviting comfort now seemed less appealing, overshadowed by my swirling thoughts and concerns. Instead, I found myself changing direction, walking over to the large island bench that marked the boundary between the spacious, newly renovated kitchen and the open living room. The space, a blend of modernity and warmth, reflected Jamie's impeccable taste and Luke's practical touch.
As I approached, Luke leaned forward from the other side of the bench, his actions deliberate. He pushed a small piece of paper towards me, its edges slightly curled, hinting at its frequent handling. I felt a surge of curiosity as my hand instinctively reached out for it, my fingers brushing against the paper.
"Jamie was planning to start a new little house project. He's made a list of things he needs. Don’t suppose you could do us a massive favour and grab a few things?" Luke's request came with a casualness that seemed at odds with his earlier urgency. "You know how I hate driving, and he is so excited to get the project started." His words were coated with a mixture of reluctance and hope, an appeal to my sense of friendship and willingness to help.
I studied the rather lengthy list that Luke had handed to me, my eyes scanning each item with a mixture of intrigue and slight bewilderment. "Concrete mix, cement mixer, posthole digger, mattock," I read aloud, enunciating each item. The list was clearly meant for a significant project, the kind that Jamie would dive into with his usual enthusiasm.
As I pondered over the items, Luke slid a small plastic card towards me across the smooth surface of the island bench. "You can use that," he said, his voice casual but with an underlying note of something I couldn't quite place.
"What's this?" I asked, my curiosity piqued even more than before. I picked up the card, turning it over in my hands. I studied the front and back, the name 'Paul Smith' embossed on it catching my eye. "Paul Smith," I read aloud, my voice trailing off as I looked up at Luke with a questioning gaze.
Why does Luke have his brother’s credit card? The question echoed in my mind, bringing with it a flurry of confusion. I didn't recall Luke mentioning that Paul was coming for a visit. It had been several years since I'd first met Paul. I remembered it vividly; Luke had flown him down for Christmas all the way from Broken Hill. Paul and I had taken an almost instant liking to one another, finding an easy camaraderie in our conversations.
Within twenty-four hours of our meeting, I had found myself accepting Paul's friend request on Facebook. We had chatted casually online every now and then, maintaining a light, friendly connection, but I hadn't seen Paul since that Christmas. The memory of that meeting was a pleasant one, tinged with the warmth of holiday cheer and new friendships.
Holding his credit card now, a card clearly meant for personal expenses, felt odd, almost intrusive. It was a tangible link to someone I had known only briefly yet fondly.
"Paul's come down to visit. Jamie asked him to. Apparently, he thinks Paul can help him with his project," Luke explained, his voice carrying a tone of casual normalcy that didn't quite mask an underlying tension.
"Jamie asked him?" I enquired, my voice tinged with suspicion. It was common knowledge among our circle that Jamie still harboured a small grudge against Paul. The idea of Jamie inviting him down, especially to help with a project, struck me as odd, almost out of character.
Despite my rising suspicions, I decided to shrug them off for the moment. "Are you sure he won't mind?" I asked, referring to Paul's apparent generosity. It was one thing to help a friend; it was entirely another to use someone else's credit card, especially under such unusual circumstances.
"Not at all, and you might need this too," Luke replied. He hastily scribbled Paul's credit card PIN onto the corner of a piece of paper, tore it off, and handed it to me. The act, so casual and yet so significant, heightened my sense of unease.
I hesitated, the piece of paper with the PIN feeling heavy in my hands. "Okay," I said slowly, my mind still grappling with the oddity of the situation. "Yeah... I guess I can help." Agreeing felt like stepping into uncharted waters, but my desire to assist, coupled with a natural curiosity, nudged me forward.
"Awesome, thanks so much. If you get stuck with anything, just give me a call and I'll explain it to the cashier," Luke promised, his words laced with a gratitude that seemed to border on relief.
"Sure, will do," I replied, carefully tucking the card and the piece of paper with the PIN into my purse. A part of me felt a certain thrill at the prospect of shopping with someone else's money, an odd little adventure in the midst of an otherwise ordinary day. It was certainly an unusual situation, but the mystery of it, the role I found myself playing, sparked a hint of intrigue in me.
My eyes wandered back to the list, reading through it once again: hoe, fork, large charcoal garden shed. "It's an interesting list. So, what on earth has Jamie got planned this time?" I asked, my tone laced with curiosity and a touch of amusement. Jamie's projects were always a source of mystery and, often, entertainment.
"I know, isn't it just?" Luke replied, his voice carrying a light chuckle that seemed to dance in the air. "I'm not totally sure what mischief he's up to. He wouldn't tell me. I'm secretly hoping it involves a few chickens." His words were playful, yet I detected a genuine curiosity behind them.
I couldn't help but laugh in response. Luke's comment reminded me of a similar situation a few years back. I’ve never been particularly good at keeping secrets, and I had inadvertently let slip Jamie's plans to surprise Luke with a hen house. The memory was a fond one, filled with the warmth of shared laughter and the excitement of secret plans. However, it seemed those plans for the hen house never came to fruition. It's still a possibility now, I mused to myself, the thought bringing a smile to my lips.
"So, you'll get the stuff?" Luke's question hung in the air, a subtle reminder of the task at hand. His tone was hopeful, yet there was a trace of something else, perhaps an unspoken understanding of the oddity of this request. "I promise that I'll get Jamie to tell you what he’s up to when you return," he added, a slight twinkle in his eye.
I eyed Luke cautiously, my mind still turning over the peculiarities of this whole situation. "Sure, I'll get it all for him," I responded, my voice steady but laced with a hint of skepticism. There was a part of me that couldn't help but wonder about the true nature of Jamie's project and Luke's involvement in it. Yet, my loyalty to Jamie, my dear friend of many years, nudged me to comply.
Having completed the task of returning the cheesecake container and now bearing a new, somewhat unusual mission, I headed towards the door. My steps were measured, each one echoing softly in the quiet of the house. As I passed by Duke and Henri, I gave them a small wave, their innocent, furry faces a brief respite from the whirlwind of thoughts circling in my head.
"Bye, boys," I murmured to them, their tails wagging in response, blissfully unaware of the complexities of human interactions and the peculiar errand I was about to embark on. Stepping out of the house, the crisp winter air greeted me, a sharp contrast to the warmth and mild confusion I was leaving behind.
As I slid back into the driver's seat of my car, I tossed my handbag onto the floor of the passenger side, a bit more forcefully than intended. My mind was swirling with an uneasy feeling, a lingering sense of disquiet that I just couldn't shake off. It left an unpleasant taste in my mouth, like the aftertaste of a bitter medicine. I found myself mulling over all of the possible scenarios, each one causing a slight twinge of discomfort within me. None of them painted a particularly reassuring picture.
Luke had entrusted me with Paul's credit card, but the question that kept echoing in my mind was, where was Paul, and why didn't he go shopping himself? I chided myself for not asking Luke about Paul's whereabouts before leaving their house. The oversight felt foolish now, a missed opportunity for clarity. Should I go back and ask? The thought tempted me, yet something held me back, a reluctance to delve deeper into what might be a private matter.
Reaching for my handbag to put away Jamie's shopping list, I paused mid-action as the bottle of shiraz on the passenger seat caught my eye. A sense of relief washed over me as I looked at it, a small anchor of normalcy in the sea of uncertainty I found myself in. "Oh, good. You're still here," I remarked to the bottle, a half-hearted attempt at humour to lighten my mood. Gently, I let Jamie's list fall into the open handbag, the paper rustling softly as it settled among my things.
I started the ignition, the familiar sound of the engine purring to life offering a small comfort. Yet, there was something else tugging at the back of my mind, an urge that I felt compelled to act on before driving away. Reaching for my handbag once more, I pulled out my phone. My fingers moved almost instinctively, tapping out a simple but heartfelt text message to Jamie: Sorry to hear you don't feel well. Call me when you wake up. G.
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