Michael Ridpath - Final Venture

As we sat down, I felt a turmoil of opposing emotions. One was a powerful desire to pull Lisa towards me, to comfort her, to try to heal the terrible hurt she was feeling. The other was anger that she wouldn't let me do that, that she wouldn't trust me, that she was suspicious of me.

We sat in silence munching the salad. A tear ran down her cheek. At first she tried to ignore it, and then she sniffed and wiped it away.

'Oh, Lisa,' I said, moving my hand across to her. As I touched her sleeve she shook it off, and picked up her fork to stab a chunk of avocado. 'Talk to me.'

'What about?'

'About Frank. About me. About you and me.'

She put down her fork, and sniffed. 'What about you and me?'

'I need to know whether you think I killed your father.'

She put down her fork, and took a deep breath. 'I don't know,' she said.

Despite my resolution to control it, the anger flashed inside me. 'What do you mean, you don't know? You have to know! You have to believe me.'

Her eyes flashed at me. 'Yes, I guess. I do have to believe you, don't I? If I'm going to live here under the same roof with you, I've got to believe you.'

'Well? Do you?'

Lisa shrugged, and looked down at her salad. 'I guess so,' she said.

'That's not good enough!' As soon as I'd said this I regretted it.

Lisa threw down her fork. 'I'm sorry that's not good enough for you, but it's the best I can do. The truth is, Simon, I just don't know. I've been thinking about it all day, and I'm totally confused. The police think you killed Dad, Eddie thinks you killed Dad, and I'm left wondering whether I'm just the stupid little wife, living with a murderer, sleeping next to a murderer. But you're right, how can I believe you'd do something like that? How can I even think something like that?'

'You have to trust me, Lisa-'

'Simon, I'd love to trust you. But don't you see, I can't.' She paused, taking in deep breaths, trying, and failing, to hold back the tears. 'Today I decided I'd just try to live with you, and ignore all my doubts, but I'm not sure I can do it.'

'You can, Lisa. You can.'

She sat in silence for a moment, the tears flowing freely. Then she shook her head. 'No. It won't work. I'm confused, I'm tired, I've never felt so miserable. Everything is just… falling apart. I don't have the strength to stay here when I don't know whether… whether…' She couldn't finish the sentence.

'But you need me to look after you.'

'Do I?'

'Yes, you do.'

She flashed an angry glance across the table, and then attacked her salad. She was so tense she was shaking. The plate clattered with each blow at the salad from her fork. She seemed to be making a superhuman effort to contain the turmoil within her.

I was losing her. I knew I was losing her.

'Lisa…'

She ignored me. Then after a few more seconds, she threw down her fork, pushed her plate away, and rushed from the room, head down, avoiding my eye.

I followed her. She went straight for the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

I opened it. She was pulling a case down from the closet on to the floor.

'Lisa! What are you doing?'

'What does it look like I'm doing?'

'You can't leave!'

'Why not? I can't stay.' She stuffed clothes, shoes, washing things into the bag.

'Lisa. I'm sorry about what I said earlier. Don't go. Please stay here. We can work through this.'

I walked over to the case, and tried to pick it up.

'Leave that alone!' she screamed, and pulled at it. For an absurd moment, I held on, pulling it back towards me.

'Let go, Simon!'

I couldn't physically stop her if she wanted to go. So I loosened my grip.

'Thank you.' She snatched the bag. 'Now, let me finish packing my bag, and I'll be out of your hair.'

'Where are you going?'

'To stay with Kelly' Kelly was a friend of hers from work. She zipped the bag shut. 'I'll get the rest later.'

'Lisa…'

She strode towards the door, carrying the bulging bag.

'Goodbye, Simon.'

I hardly slept at all that night. I needed to get out of the apartment, so I went in to work at Revere as soon as was decently possible, and stared at Tetracom papers without really taking in their contents. I more or less ignored Daniel and John. I waited for a quarter past nine, by which time Lisa would be sure to have arrived at the lab. Daniel was out of the room and John was on the phone.

'I'm just nipping out,' I called over to John. 'I'll be back in quarter of an hour.'

John waved as he continued talking.

I put on my jacket, took the lift down to the ground floor, and strolled out on to Federal Street. It was quiet, although the sounds of the 'Big Dig', Boston's heroic attempt to bury the highway that bisected the city, seeped round the giant buildings. I flipped open my cell phone, dialled Boston Peptides' switchboard, and was soon put through.

'Lisa Cook's phone.'

It wasn't her voice.

'Can I speak to her, please?'

'I'll see if she's available. Who's speaking?'

'Simon.'

Normally the response would have been: 'Yeah, sure, here she is.' I wasn't at all surprised when the voice told me Lisa was unavailable.

I waited five minutes, hands in pockets, shifting from foot to foot with impatience. Then I tried again.

'Lisa Cook's telephone.'

A different voice. Good. I put on my attempt at an American accent. 'Oh, hi, can I speak with Lisa please? It's her brother, Eddie.'

'One moment.'

There was a pause, and then Lisa's voice came on the line. 'Eddie! You're up early.'

'It's not Eddie,' I said. 'It's me.'

'Listen, Simon, don't you ever try to pretend-'

'No, Lisa. Listen to me. We were both upset last night when you walked out. We need to talk it through again when we're both calmer.'

There was a moment's silence. I prayed that she wouldn't hang up. Then I heard her sigh. 'Let me transfer you to a different phone.' A click and more silence, until I heard her voice again. 'OK, I can talk now'

'I think we should meet somewhere so we can talk properly'

'There's no need, Simon. I've been thinking about it all night. I've made up my mind.'

'But you can't leave me, Lisa.'

'No, Simon. I can't stay with you. Not when I think you might have killed my father.'

'You said "might". You're not sure then, are you?'

There was a pause at the other end. 'Look, I'm confused, OK? I feel lousy. Really bad. I just want to be away from you for a while.'

'I understand that's how you feel. But I don't understand why. Just think about it from my point of view for a second. I have a right to know why you're doing this. Why don't we meet for a cup of coffee, and you can explain it?'

'I'm not sure I can explain it.'

'You can try. I deserve at least that.'

There was silence on the phone. 'OK. I guess you're right. Can you get here now?'

'Yes,' I said immediately. 'I'll be there right away'

I took a cab.

Despite its name, Boston Peptides was housed in a scruffy looking one-storey building in Cambridge, in the wasteland between MIT and Harvard. On one side was a small engineering company making castings, and on the other was an open patch of land that was temporarily being used as a soccer pitch. Backhoes churned up the plot in front.

Lisa was waiting on the steps. The tired look of misery I had grown accustomed to in the last few days was set firmly on her face..

'Let's walk,' she said, and we made our way towards the soccer pitch. Two teams of kids were playing, one in green and one in red. They weren't bad for eight-year-olds. One day, I thought, the United States is going to field a decent team in the World Cup.

We sat on a wall and watched them for a few moments, both of us nervous of starting a conversation that could, and probably would, end in disaster. The backhoes ground and clanked behind us.