What Lies Beneath

Chapter 5

Back in her office, Olivia was already filling out her report. She wasn’t being conceited, but she knew the outcome of today. After her interview with Mrs. Bolton, she was just going to add the finishing touches to her report, the statement and Mrs. Bolton signature, to confirm that she had given the statement willingly and offered legal representation. Ten to three. Her desk phone was only allowed the opportunity to ring once before she snatched it up. 

“Detective Pearson.”

“Mrs. Bolton is here, I took her down to room three.” 

“Good. Thank you, Gill.” 

“Your welcome.” 

Drawn blinds showed someone occupied the room. With the file tucked under her arm, she knocked before she entered the room. Mrs. Bolton sat in one of the three chairs surrounding the desk. Her frail looking fingers clutched the straps of her handbag tightly while it rested on her lap. Her blue eyes seemed tired and just a little worried. Olivia smiled as she entered, put down her file and held out her hand. “Thank you for coming in on such short notice, Mrs. Bolton.” 

“Please, call me Fiona.” Her smile never reached her weary eyes. 

“Would you like some coffee, Fiona?” 

“Tea, if you have it.” 

The small wooden table pushed into the corner of the room placed strategically, Olivia could still see Fiona out of the corner of her eye as she fixed Fiona’s tea. While waiting for the kettle to boil, she placed a saucer with a few packs of sugar, a tea bag and a spoon in front of her. “Milk?”

“No, thank you.” Olivia poured the boiling water into the cup and placed it onto the saucer as well. 

“Thank you, Detective.” Olivia waited until Fiona had her tea ready, waiting for it to cool she looked up at Olivia. “You had questions?” 

Olivia nodded. “Do you mind if I record our conversation?” she asked. 

“No.” She lifted her cup to her lips, but instead of sipping, she cooled it with small puffs of breath. Olivia pressed record on the voice recorder and took a deep breath. 

There was one thing she didn’t like, and that was playing games. She has never done it in any of her interviews. She liked to get to the point as soon as possible and without taking too many detours. 

“Fiona.” She opened the file and pushed it towards her. The policy information was sitting on top, next to it, her bank statement from five years ago - hiding the photo of her deceased husband. “My recent investigations show that this policy payment had gone to the hospital where Priscilla received her treatment. That is not a problem, or even remotely illegal. You get to spend it as you see fit.” Her face was ashen and Olivia could see the nervous tremor in her hands as she brought the teacup to her lips, this time taking a small sip. “I don’t think you or your daughter had anything to do with his death. In fact, I think Priscilla truly believes that they murdered her father for a few bucks.” Fiona kept sipping at her tea. “But, I suspect you might know more about how he died.” Her voice held no malice, no judgment. It wasn’t her place to pass judgment, her work was finding the truth. Fiona was staring into the teacup–gaining courage or refusing to talk. Either way, Olivia waited a few seconds before she continued. 

“Fiona, I know you love your husband, you miss him dearly. I can see it. I can also see something else. Something that is eating away at your soul, draining the life from you. I don’t know what you had to go through when your daughter received a second chance at life while your husband had lost his life,” Olivia coaxed a bit. Fiona was tired of holding this inside, living with this secret. After a few moments more, her soft voice filled the room. 

“I felt his lips press against my cheek that morning. He brought me a cup of tea and some biscuits - a peace offering. I remember smiling up at him. We had an argument the night before. They say you shouldn’t go to bed angry, but we did. We just never woke up angry.” Her gaze fixed on the cup, but Olivia could see the hint of a pensive smile. She wanted to ask her what the argument was about, but she didn’t want to interrupt her yet. Instead, she scribbled the note on a legal pad on the table and listened. 

“I loved that man with every fiber of my being, but we loved our daughter more. Seeing her suffer through the chemo, just for the funds to run out and then to start it all over again when we raised some more money from the fundraisers. It was unbearable to watch, as a mother it was damn near killing me. We tried everything to raise funds, but it never seemed to be enough.” A single tear made ripples in the steaming tea, she noticed, and placed the cup on the desk. 

“The argument we had the night before was about that, the money we needed to help our daughter. Priscilla and her husband Pat were both working and made just enough to support themselves, Pat even got a second job just to get somewhere.” She was quiet again for a few moments, not looking up at Olivia. Guilt is a terrible emotion, it washes through you with shameful waves, dissolving your spirit to make room for stifling hold of depression. 

“Jerry and I went through every way in which we could get money, all we had left was our home, our retirement, and that life insurance. After a while, Priscilla and Pat had to give up their apartment and move in with us. It helped some, but that just meant that we could no longer sell the house to pay for her treatments. We were out of options with her medical insurance at capacity. There was nothing.” 

Olivia’s face was clear of emotion as Fiona struggled through her story. “Eventually, Priscilla had to give up her job as she became too ill to continue. Jerry and I took some minor jobs here and there, but no one wanted to hire two old people full time. That’s when Jerry first came up with the idea. It appalled me to think of it and wanted nothing to do with it.” Her palm slapped down on the table, shocking Olivia with the impact. Maybe Fiona wasn’t as frail as she first thought. “He gave me biscuits and tea, went outside and pushed a knife into his chest.” Fiona was sobbing. Reaching for the box of tissues on the desk, Olivia pulled out a few and handed them to her. Her red-rimmed eyes flickered to up. “Thank you.” Olivia kept quiet, nothing she could say would ease her pain. After a while she continued, her voice reflecting her defeat. “I took my time with the tea and biscuits. When I got up to take the dishes to the kitchen, I expected to find Jerry at the kitchen table reading the paper as he did each morning. But he wasn’t there. The kitchen sink was in front of the window overlooking the front of the yard, that’s when I saw him. Laying on his back with the knife in his chest. I ran outside, I was frantic when I reached him but relieved when I realized he was still breathing. I was just about to run back inside to call an ambulance when his hand reached out to me, I was in such a state of shock I took his hand in mine. I didn’t want him to die alone on the dirty driveway, but I also didn’t want him to die at all. Torn between going to get the phone and saying goodbye. Before I could stop myself, I was on my knees next to him, afraid to touch him, but he beckoned me closer and I went, I could see now that he had little time left. Calling the ambulance would not do any good.” 

Her sobbing had reduced to sniffles, her voice became detached, almost emotionless. “Jerry instructed me to remove the knife. My actions became robotic when I realized what he was doing. I went along with it, Jerry had already begun sputtering blood, he punctured a lung - his jagged breathing confirmed as much. I just kept thinking I cannot lose them both, I knew Jerry would not make it. I couldn’t lose Priscilla as well. I said goodbye to my husband and pulled the knife from his chest. He died moments later.” 

“Policies do not cover suicide.”

“No.” She shook her head. 

“What did you do next?”

“I went inside to wash the knife, I placed it back from where he took it. I reached for the phone to call an ambulance and saw his wallet on the counter next to the phone. I knew I had to get rid of the wallet, I hid it between the couch cushions to get rid of later. That’s when I heard a distressed voice from outside. First, I thought it was Pat who found him, but it was a jogger, on the phone with the police. I had said nothing, I just let the police assume what they want. I never corrected the investigators when they said the motive was robbery. When the money paid out, I kept the genuine cause of his death to myself.” 

“Why are you telling me now?” Olivia knew why, but she needed this for her report. 

She gave a little shrug. “I’ve lived long enough on his sacrifice. It’s time.” 

Olivia had nothing to say.

She looked up at the silence. “Are going you to arrest me now, Detective?” 

She shook her head. “But I have to hand this over to the Prosecutor.” 

“I understand.” Fiona had removed her death grip on her purse. “What do I do now?”

“Go home, spend some time with your family. I’ll give you a few days before I hand it over.” 

“Why?” 

“I don’t know why,” Olivia told her honestly. 

 ***

“Did you consider not handing that file to the Prosecutor?”

“Yes,” came her simple answer. 

“But you handed it in?”

“Yes.” 

“How did that make you feel at the time?”

“It didn’t feel right. Like injustice.” 

“Is that a feeling you often get when you have to hand over criminals?” 

Her eyes blazed as they landed on the Doctor’s face. “Fiona is not a criminal!” 

“I know you feel that way, but according to the law, insurance fraud is a criminal offense, Olivia.” 

“I know that!” 

“Are you going to answer the question?” She changed the direction away from Fiona.

Olivia was thinking about not answering; Dr. Wilson fixated on things she didn’t believe were overly important in the big scheme of things. “Sometimes, but not always. Some deserve their fate. Others were just at the wrong place at the wrong time.” 

She nodded. “Do you think you were in the wrong place at the wrong time when they took you or think that if you perhaps had not made a habit of drinking too much, you could have avoided the situation?” 

“Are you f*****g kidding me right now?” Olivia shot up. She does that a lot in this damned office. The Doctor’s calming décor was not worth the money she paid for it. “Are you suggesting it is my fault they took me just because I made it easy for them? I had one f*****g beer that night!” Without waiting for an answer, Olivia stormed out of the office.