Page 80 of Dissection of a Murder
Pulling up onto the gravel drive, I see his silver Porsche 911 Carrera, which looks even more impressive illuminated by the gentle external lighting on the house.
I check my face in the mirror before going in. All the crying has smudged my mascara. I look like something out of a slasher film.
“Lei!” he gasps, opening the front door. “Come in. Let me get you a bloody drink.”
Ushering me through to the open-plan and newly renovated kitchen at the back of the house, he sprints to the fridge and drags out a bottle of white wine. Scanning my surroundings, I see just how much of an influence Demi has had on the place since I was last herea year ago. This isn’t Chester’s vibe at all. It’s stark and sterile—bright white walls and monochrome styling. Heavy plops of rain begin thudding down on the skylights we’re standing under before the heavens open. It sounds as if it’s about to come through the roof.
“Have some of this, and tell me what’s happened,” he says, pouring wine into the biggest glass I’ve ever seen.
“I can’t, I’m driving.”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll get you a taxi. Or Demi will drive you.”
“Yes, I guess she’s not drinking for the foreseeable future.”
He looks at me through a classic side-eye, handing the glass over to me.
“Is it yours?” I ask bluntly.
“I’ve no way of knowing for sure. I don’t have any proof it’s not.”
“Maybe you don’t want to find any.”
“Maybe.” He nods. “She said she waited so long to tell me because she didn’t know if I’d be angry about it.”
“Really?” I say, walking over to a gallery wall of photographs. Each one is carefully placed and set within a thick, black frame. They’re mainly of Chester and Demi: their wedding, them skiing, on a beach, on city breaks. Each one, a snapshot of their very childless life.
At the top, there’s a photo of Chester standing with a young woman with jet-black hair cut into a sharp shoulder-length bob. Her facial features are defined: catlike eyes and a plump mouth painted red. She wears a floor-length emerald-green dress, and Chester smiles with his arm around her.
“Do you ever see her? Elise?” I ask. I hear his footsteps on the floor as he walks and stands just behind me, close enough that I can smell the scent he’s wearing.
“No.”
“Don’t you think she’d want to know she’s about to get a baby brother or sister?”
“I think that ship has sailed, Lei,” he replies, gently brushing his hand onto the back of my waist, ushering me to the sofa that faces enormous bi-folding doors leading out to the garden.
“Whereisyour radiant wife?” I inquire. “I haven’t yet had a chance to congratulate her.”
“She’s out. Went to the cinema with a friend. She should be back soon,” he says, glancing at the clock. “Aren’t you going to tell me why you’re here?”
“Chester, I can’t do this.”
“What?”
“This case. I’m in way over my head.”
“Is that it?” he spurts out. “Leila, you’re probably the most talented junior advocate who isn’t yet a silk on our circuit.”
“You’re just saying that because—”
“Because what?” he interrupts. “Because you think I fancy you?”
We both burst out laughing. I love his directness; it helps clear the air. We clink glasses, maintaining eye contact as we take a drink.
“He doesn’t believe in me, you know. Julian. He thinks this is a clear run for him.”
“Of course he does. That’s what he’s like. Arrogant bastard.”
