Day 173 - Upside Down- Chapter 21 - (1599 words)

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UPSIDE DOWN, BACK TO FRONT

By Wayne Webb

CHAPTER 21

After

Detective Sherry knew there was something wrong.
He knew it. There was definitely something odd here.
But the evidence, such as it was suggested otherwise. The case was closed as an accidental death because it obviously was. Suspicious behaviour? Yes. People with things to hide? Definitely.
Guilty? Of what?
It could be as innocuous as screwing the wrong persons wife, maybe that’s whats setting off his alarm bells. Greg Nixon was a cock and no one was really that upset about him being dead.
They all knew they had to be of course, social expectations and all but even the widow did not seem that affected. She was covered, the company was covered and the guy who lost a million dollars up in smoke and his supposed best friend was also covered.
Then there’s these two guys.
Something about them is off. Can’t put my finger on it. Something is just … wrong.
Sherry laughed suddenly at a random thought.
Two guys, single in their early thirties spending a LOT of time together, no girlfriends visible. Why didn’t he think of that before.
He shook his head, I thought we were all open about this kind of thing these days? Whats the problem. Closeted idiots, made me think they were plotting the death of the boss for a minute there.
And just like that the closed case was now closed to Detective Sherry.
Nothing makes sense until it makes sense.
Day 20

Before

The walls of his daughters room were white, but everything else in the room was pink and yellow, Jennifer Nixon's favourite colours from when she was able to name them onwards.
She was 4 years old and very well mannered, a mixture of her mother's demeanour and her father's drive to get things done. As he sat on his haunches and listened to her lecturing him on how important it was to be nice to people and how the food pyramid worked Greg marvelled at how this amazing, cute and friendly child was related to him at all.
Was he like this once? Not according to his mother who had labelled him a holy terror for as long as he could recall. He had worked his whole life to live up to that moniker and she never ever gave him a moment to forget it. He visited her once a week in the home she was in, her health had improved over the summer but it was shaping up to be a bad winter, maybe it would be bext if she stayed a little longer there.
Maybe it would be better if she didn't poison his daughters mind any further against him, she always found an opportunity to label him in some way, whether it be for control or for an effort to "help" him be a better person, it didn't matter. It didn't stop. He'd never be good enough.
His wife was barely better than that. She was cool and calm in front of the kids and others of course, but he felt less than grateful for such small mercies. She too had taken every available private opportunity to push him into a corner and ensure what it was that she wanted, needed for her children.
My Children, she had called them from day one, like Greg didn't fit in the equation. Yes they bore his surname as did his wife, but it had always felt temporary, like it was a loner while waiting for the luxury car that was in the shop.
His daughter on the other hand, she loved him unconditionally. This was something worth fighting for, dying for, working for. The demands of others were needles in his side, pinpricks that were sharp to the point of being painful, but not long lasting. His daughters future though was the Damoclean threat that cut gaping wounds that would never heal. That inadequacy frightened him terribly. Each new school term, each must-have item that made his daughter the elite child she deserved to be - each one of those costs reminded him how successful he needed to be.
This home, the moated castle where all could be defended cost a lot of money. Mortgaged and leveraged beyond belief but comfortably held for now. Months, years they come and go. Contracts were inked in the blood of his responsibility to her. She was bright and bubbly, incandescently perfect in his eyes and nothing would denied to her.
She would not be spoiled, oh that would never do. She wasn't the type to let it go to get to her head anyway, she was too nice. Where did she get that from? It befuddled him constantly.
She would prance about granting wishes to her toys and to her friends, the ones that he allowed in the house. Beneficent in her majesty, a queen on the throne at such a young age.
He listened to her without really hearing what she was saying, it was unimportant the content of her words after all. They likely meant everything to her right here and now but in five minutes she will have easily moved on to a new topic and that will be her next all consuming passion.
What mattered was her tone. It was earnest and unreserved for him, her father. Others, strangers and the grandparents were held at a shy distance, not a long way to most people but a cavernous chasm to Greg who could see it from the same side as his daughter. That was immense to be there, a position of privilege, influence and therefore responsibility. It's true she held the same affection for her mother, but she hugged and cuddled with her father more. The trust and the attention were less structured in Greg's mind and he loved her all the more for that.
His phone rang.
Work trunk line, he recognised the numbers an extension at work.
"What the..."he looked at his daughter and curtailed his language. That clipped his tones when he answered the call.
"Yes?" He did not identify himself, after all they called him.
"No. No. Are you... joking? What makes you fuc... uhh, what makes you think I'll do that?" His temper is rising. Stupid decisions, decisions that affect the company because morons can't think ahead. Here he is providing for his family and he can barely leave the office for 5 seconds before someone takes a knife to the support for his daughters future.
Why can't people think for themselves, instead of being stupid and then calling him to confirm how stupid they are? What is wrong with people? Are they that fucking selfish?
Greg's blood pressure is ramping up steadily and he can feel the flush in his cheeks and his temples. He can't let them do this, dammit, he'll have to go in.
"Just don't do anything. Leave it alone you'll only make matters worse. Can you do that? Huh? Can you? Can you manage to do nothing and not completely fucking ruin my business in the 15 minutes it'll take me to get to the office to clean up your mess? Jesus of all the runs to be late on, I'll have Hansen's guts on a ... " he looked at his daughter and tailed off the descriptive evisceration he had been about to detail.
He stabbed at the phone, but his anger didn't translate to the touch screen nature of the smartphone he had recently upgraded to. He wanted something he could slam down, or click off in a physical way with more emotion than the light skin contact required.
He stood up and tried to drain the flushed anger out of his voice and out of his face.
"Daddy has to go to work darling, Mummy will look after you ok?"
"Ok daddy." Her voice has saddened, another crime by those morons at work. They're killing his family and his daughter for their incompetence.
"It's ok darling, Daddy will be home later."
His wife Gail appeared at the door and looked at his slowly whitening face, draining of anger but visibly still tense. She looked at Jennifer and saw disappointment, a mirror appeared in her own expression.
"Daddy has to go to work darling, we'll have fun and see him later." She shot him with a look. "If he can find time for his actual family that is. Are you ok honey bunny?" She is over solicitous in her remarks to accentuate the void of distaste he placed between her and her husband.
"Daddy has to go. He was playing with the angry box." Jennifer twirled a comforting finger in her hair
"The angry box?" Greg was startled by the term.
"Silly! The angry box, you know!" Jennifer pointed to his phone and repeated her logic, "The angry box."
Gail smeared him with a look that painted a picture of too many negative emotions for Greg to process.
He had to go, he could deal with it later, he would deal with it later.
"Okay, we'll play later yeah? Daddy will bring you home a treat tonight ok?"
"Hey! Don't try and buy your way out of this mister." She had instinctively turned her daughter away from him, trying to shield her from him as if this was somehow hurting her. Jennifer frowned at her mother, then smiled over to her dad.
His frustration melted away and he smiled back.
"See you tonight little bear."
He waved and walked backwards to the door.

Jennifer's final memory of her father was the way she knew him, the way no one else did.