03. Michaela

It’s way past 5 o’clock. It took him a bit of time to cut the mattress into pieces small enough to get rid off without raising suspicions.
He also cleaned the wall and shampooed the carpet. He didn’t do it thoroughly enough to fool SOC; or his mother for that matter in case either of them ever came around. It’s should be good enough for just about anyone else though.

“Bet she finds all this ‘oh so funny’, knowing I’d be spending my day on my hands and knees cleaning up her mess.” He knows he’s not one of the tidiest persons and cleaning is not his ‘thing’.

Enough of this, time for a quick break, try and relax before he has to go out. Sitting on the couch he turns on the TV, just in time for the 6 o’clock news. He tries to stop his hand shaking as he watches the news intro. It’s no real surprise that Mrs Garnier is news item of the day. He expected her to be. He is tempted to change the channel, watch the Simpson’s maybe. He can’t! He needs to know as much as possible about her but he’s getting really worried about this. This is not just a random woman and if someone saw them together they might recognise him. He needs to search for the missing night.

First port of call of the search is the Victoria, the pub round the corner from his house. It’s a typical old English pub, a rectangular space with a wooden floor, wooden panels and a bar with brass fittings in the centre of the long wall.
It has two rooms on the first floor, decorated with old armchairs and chairs giving it an air of creativity. He sometimes likes to go there and have a quiet pint sitting in one of the armchairs upstairs. He usually goes in there to be by himself. He can be pretentious, it’s true; and he has a flair for the dramatic.

He never expected to find anything there. The nights he goes there are usually not long. He goes because he doesn’t want to drink alone but he rarely talks to anyone, except to order. The staff know his face and that’s just about it. He ordered a pint of ale but instead of going upstairs this time, he decided to sit at the bar downstairs. See if anyone recognised him.

By the time he finished his pint he was almost sure no one was paying any attention to him. Either he wasn’t there last night or he was too quiet. No clues here and probably nothing to worry about.

Next stop is that nice trendy bar on Dering Street near Oxford Circus, The Loop. He never liked the name but the place was ok. A black baroque-ish décor but it had some quiet corners to hide and have a private discussion. Well, try and have a discussion. Music was a bit too Top of the Popsy.
This place is frequented by, what would be described as the City ‘professionals’. Mainly young people with junior and middle management positions in the various firms around London, whether in the financial, retail or any other sector of industry and commerce.
The main common factor is the relatively young age, the fact that they are usually single and almost always at the start of a ‘promising’ career in their respective chosen field. The idea of work hard, play harder was almost burned onto their psyche.

The above description fits him to the tee, though he is currently 'between' jobs but that is not the reason he came to The Loop. Actually he doesn’t really like the place. The décor is nice but far from original and the people there can be annoying. Play hard is one thing but when you start throwing your toys out of the pram you get irritating.

The main reason he went to this bar were the women. Most were good looking, well dressed, liked to have fun and of course played hard. There was also Michaela, who usually worked at the bar.

He met Michaela one night when he came in for a drink after a particular bad day at work. He needed a drink that night and wanted some mindless noise to keep it company. He went straight downstairs, walked up to the bar, sat down on a stool and ordered a beer. She kept him company all through the night and laughed as more and more women kept coming in to order from his side of the bar. He pretended he was embarrassed. He got slightly drunk and a lot more flirty. As the night was drawing to a close she asked him to wait for her outside. He did and they ended up spending the night at her small apartment near Tottenham Court. In the morning she was a bit self-conscious, she explained that she was a lesbian that sometimes went straight when she was drunk. He promised to behave himself next time.

He got to know her more as he would come by often enough for them to take a light interest in each other but his relationship with Michaela remained, from that night onwards, always that of a bartender and her customer. Besides he knew for a fact that her interest in lovers was similar to his, normally brunettes but an occasional blonde to keep the variety going.
It was nearly eight as he walked in and headed straight for the bar. Propping himself up on a stool he smiled as Michaela moved towards him.
-“Hey D!” she returned his smile.“How you doing? What can I get you?”
-“Hiya, Mik. I’m doing ok I guess, same old, same old. Can I have a Corona?”
-“Sure thing. So where have you been? I haven’t seen you lately.”

He wasn’t here last night then. He wasn’t sure if he should be worried or relieved by these news.
If he wasn’t here then were the hell did he go to last night? London is a big city and the last thing he wanted, was to spend days trying to figure out where he’d been.
On the other hand people knew him in here and Michaela is very, very observant when she wants to.
-“So, do I get to find out where you’ve been? What was so important that kept you away from your favourite barwoman? Is everything ok?”
-“All is well, Mik. I have been a bit busy lately and… no, don’t look at me like that! It wasn’t that kind of busy! Nothing as fun as that; just work and stuff.”
-“Ok… I’ll pretend I believe you!”
-“Thanks! Tell me. Did I miss anything while I was kept away from your charming company?”
-“Not much really, a fight a couple of nights ago but other than that…” she suddenly looked up at him.
-“Oh wait, I remembered something!” She was visibly excited.
-“Hey, you know that woman that’s been on the news? The wife of that TV presenter? I think I saw her last night walking down the road when I went out for a cigarette!”
-“Really, Mik? You’re sure about that? I mean are you sure it was her?” He tried to look as calm as he could but he could feel his voice almost cracking from the adrenaline flowing through his body.
-“D! I’m positive! You know I’m good with faces and she also had a killer body, especially in that short dress.”
-“You remember what she was wearing? What am I saying? Of course you do. You probably know what underwear she had on, honestly Mik sometimes I think you are worse than some guys I know, mentally undressing women!” He tried to joke, more for his benefits that Michaela’s.
-“Haha, can’t resist the temptation. Anyway, yes as a matter of fact I do remember what she was wearing. She had a blue dress with a sort of flowery, 60’s sort of pattern. Cute! She also had a light blue pasmina across her shoulders.” She smiled impishly.
-“And her underwear looked expensive by the way!”

02. Action Plan

Back to the important things then. He will need to remember where he was and if someone saw him with her. Who the hell was she? He decided to call her Jane until he found out who she was.
He would start with his usual hang-outs and see if anyone saw him there or maybe they saw Jane but he needs to be careful, no need to get other people interested in him or Jane.

Next concern then, how did he get home last night and at what time?
He lives in a relatively quiet neighbourhood, near Hyde Park and at night the traffic is limited, not many people walking around but there are enough not to make someone stand out. It’s actually why he moved here in the first place.
Well, the tall trees lining the streets and the closeness to Hyde Park are also good selling points but he always enjoyed his privacy and this place is perfect. Quiet with neighbours so caught up in their own life dramas no one notices him. Even when walking down the street you can hide.
It’s so close to the train station and the numerous hotels that are located on the street. To anyone seeing them last night they were just another couple returning to their hotel. It’s doubtful anyone registered them coming home last evening but he would need to make sure. It’s also doubtful anyone noticed ‘her’ coming in the house either. She has a way of going past people without being noticed anyway, unless of course she wants you to notice her.

He still needs to wait for the mattress to dry out completely and there is no point in starting the search yet, most of the places he needs to visit will be closed in the morning.
He turns the laptop on, might as well start looking for a new bed so he clicks on the IKEA web page.
As he scans their bedroom section he decides to check on the news, just in case. He turns the TV on and selects the BBC News channel and nearly chokes on his coffee.
A face is staring at him, a woman’s face, a beautiful face as it’s framed by her blonde hair. He turns the volume on.
“…the wife of TV’s presenter John Garnier has been reported missing by her husband this morning. Mrs Garnier has been missing ever since she left her office last night. It was reported that their marriage was under pressure after Mr Garnier was seen leaving a London restaurant in the company of another woman. The police have refused to comment and only said they are treating this as a normal missing person case. And now sports…”
Flashbacks start coming at him from every angle. The face from the TV laughing as she holds a shot glass in her hand, another image of her as she takes his hand and the memory of her lips as she’s kissing him, her mouth tasting of alcohol and cigarettes.

“Fuck, girl. What have you done to me?” he stares at the TV in abject horror. “Damn, you really landed me in it, deep this time... babe”.

He can imagine ‘her’ sitting at her home, or where ever the Hell she is, when she is not making my life miserable, sitting there and smiling that annoying, self satisfied smile of hers.
Maybe he should work at things differently. He had some spare time anyway so he could try and track her down and wipe that smile of her face forever. Damn that bitch, damn her to Hell and back! He sat down and tried to calm himself down. He pours another shot of whiskey in the coffee and drinks a long sip. He had to calm down, there is no point going after her, he wouldn’t find her anyway.

Back to plan A then. First he needs a new bed and he might have just found one that he liked. Better to go to the store and get it himself. No need to have people delivering things for the next few things. He needs to get some tools anyway.
He turned to look at the TV again. They had a special on the financial crisis and the things people should be worried about. “Wish life was that simple.” He finished his coffee and thought about breakfast and then thought about his room. He decided breakfast might not be a good idea.

He got up, might as well start cleaning. He went to the cupboard in the kitchen and checked the cleaning stuff he had. He seemed to have everything he wanted. Bleach, some glass cleaning thing, loads of kitchen paper. The carpet was not too bad, a few spatters and some blood that dripped from the bed. The walls were covered though. He decided to clean them but it would be a good idea to paint over them as well. He wanted to redecorate the bedroom anyway. He knew, from watching CSI mainly, that it would be hard to get rid of all the evidence but to be honest, if the cops decided to search his place he was in trouble anyway. He couldn’t easily replace the carpet but he would paint the wall.
Some dark colours maybe, colours dark enough that would persuade him the stains were gone. He recently helped a friend paint her room so he had a few ideas. He started laughing. People are so weird sometimes. He was in so much trouble. Even if the police didn’t get involved, he had no idea how far she could go. Yet. Here he was, thinking of the bedroom colour scheme. Light blue-grey for most walls and a darker grey for the wall behind the bed, to offset his new paintings.

He made a list of the things he needed to get and started on getting the place ready. The bed was almost drying so he covered in plastic and moved it to the spare room.