Chapter Thirty-Five
There are different types of invisible inks and some become visible under hundred-watt lightbulbs, but the words become clearer under the UV light. Lottie had gone to great lengths, and for what? Because my friend didn’t return her affections? Invisible ink can be easily made at home if you have the right ingredients. Onion or lemon juice, baking soda, and vinegar are a few. The words are chilling and shake me to my very core. All the things she didn’t say in the clips are on the back of a photograph. A photo given by Davian and I had it in my possession all this time, but how could I have known? All I know is our friendship. Who I thought Lottie was, the kind of person she was, was a lie. Everything about her was a lie, so was our friendship. The real Lottie is here in this invisible ink.
I doubt this message will be found. I doubt anyone is clever enough to look closely at this photograph and put it under visible light where my words, my final words, are being said. The list is in order. I want Davian to read this, but he doesn’t care. He never cared. I could have made him happy but he’s so cold, so withdrawn from everything. The clips I recorded are partly lies. There was no affair. I have never been to the apartment in Chelsea, and there was no discussion of him ever leaving his beloved Melissa. We only had sex twice, at his exhibition and in the old house. He didn’t want me, so I wanted to give him a hard time. The clips were a setup for Anthony. He was his friend, after all. He was the one that put a good word in with that bitch Giselle, so it’s his fault too. I gave him my laptop containing video clips of me telling a few porky pies after his laptop broke down. His laptop was fine. I was the one who broke it. I forged Davian’s handwriting. It was easy enough; the fool had left me a Post-it after we had sex. I made a copy before I gave it back to him to confiscate. I wrote a few Posts-it's with messages to make it look like there was something going on between Davian and I, took photos to make it look like there was something going on. I dumped Abdel for the reason he irritated me. I didn’t want to be with him anymore. Did he think he could dump me and come back? Fuck him. Fuck Anthony. Fuck Davian. Fuck everyone. Fuck you all. I bought a gun. Trying to hold the trigger with a spring is a bitch but practice makes perfect. The task was simple; I’ll use a spring to make it look like I had been shot and stick it to Davian. Eat that, you pompous, cold-hearted son of a bitch. I hope you’ll rot in hell.
It's like someone poured a bucket of ice-cold water all over me. It was a lie. All of this was for nothing. It was to set us all up. She wanted to ruin everything, her life, and take Davian and me along with her, for what? Because the guy had sex with her twice and refused to leave his girlfriend for her? All of this for Davian? Davian had cost her everything including, her life. She did it all for him. My legs collapse under me. I slump on the chair. I stare ahead with my mouth parted. She actually... no... it can’t be... no, no, no. It was an accident. Lottie didn’t mean to get shot in the face. Something went horribly wrong. She only meant to wound herself and make it look like Davian had done it. The thought alone makes me sick. That explains the marks on the furniture DC Gallagher had found. Lottie was trying to make the gun stay in position, but with what, I don’t know. How come the police didn’t find this out? The spring DC Gallagher found under the dresser; it was for the trigger. Lottie must have practised with the unloaded gun but when it was loaded, everything went wrong. How did she even...? I rub my eyes.
Lottie planned all of this to its final detail: having dinner with Ella, the loud music to muffle the gunshot. She was insane. Her obsession was so deep and it was all for nothing. Lottie wasn’t murdered. Her death was accidental. Her poor parents. They are the only people I feel sorry for. The bitch deserved what came to her. I was her friend. I loved and adored her. How could she do this to me? Setting me up and putting me in this position? All of this because I’m a friend of her unrequited love? How the hell am I going to get out of this. Who would believe me? I had to show this photograph with its invisible message to the police. They are chasing a non-existent killer. DC Gallagher said she had a feeling it was staged, and it was. I have to tell her, which will leave me in handcuffs.
Chapter Thirty-Six
I stand outside the police station, glancing up at the building. My breath rises and falls as I build up the courage to go inside and hand over the laptop and the most important item, the photograph. I try not to think about what could happen to me. I might be placed under arrest for withholding evidence from the police, but I have to clear Davian’s name. This is what friends do. I frown at the pavement; would he do the same for me? I think he would. His life is ruined because of this. Lottie had her fun, now it’s time to put an end to this. I’m scared, but not worried. DC Gallagher would work out the rest and she has a confession from Lottie herself saying all of this was one big charade. I take one long breath, hold it in, and step inside. I walk to the desk where a bored police officer in uniform is scribbling in a notebook.
‘Yes?’ he says, without looking at me.
‘I would like to talk to DC Fiona Gallagher regarding Lottie Gibson’s murder case.’
‘And you are?’ he asks.
I place the laptop on the desk. The police officer glances at it, then his eyes look up at me for the first time.
‘What’s that?’ he asks.
‘Tell her it’s Anthony Hughes. I have Lottie’s laptop and I have a lot of explaining to do.’
It’s a blur after that. DC Gallagher is out, so I’m taken to a room to wait. I don’t know for how long I waited but it seemed like a while. DC Gallagher comes and I tell her everything, not leaving anything out. DC Gallagher and DC Taylor listen with serious expressions on their faces as they take notes. I beg them to look at the photograph. I don’t think DC Gallagher knew what to do with me. Her eyes keep slicing through me, then they take me to a cell but not handcuffed. In the cell with me is a man dressed in a blue boiler suit, who sits on the bunk staring into space. I wonder what he did. I’m exhausted. All I want to do is lie down, but I want to stay awake so as not to miss a thing. My eyes are heavy and slowly I doze off.
When Lottie came over to my apartment to hand me the laptop, her face had a glow on it, her eyes clear and bright. She gave me a toothy grin, stepped inside, and placed the bag on the coffee table.
‘Here you are,’ she said.
‘Really, you shouldn’t,’ I said.
‘Oh, no need to worry. I don’t use it that much anyway.’
‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome. Oh, I have to go somewhere, but can we catch up soon?’
‘I would love that.’
She came to me, took my hand to hers, and kissed me on the lips. The last time she stood so close to me was at the party. I was taken aback, but thrilled.
‘You’re a good friend, Anthony,’ she said. ‘You’re a good everything.’
She kissed me again on the lips. ‘We’ll catch up soon and talk, okay?’
I nodded.
Little did I know it would be the last time I ever saw her. That she had already made up her mind. From the look on her face, the cheery expression, she didn’t look like she was about to set us all up. That I was being set up, and that her kissing me, telling me I was a good friend, a good everything as she put it, was her way to say goodbye to me. She didn’t plan to be shot and die, but she knew our friendship would never be the same. Even if her plan had worked, if she’d made it look like Davian had shot her and wounded her, I think the guilt, to live with that remorse of knowing what she had done, would have eaten her away.