Page 42 of M for Murder

For a moment she felt proud, privileged. Then she started to feel slightly ridiculous.

Jeez! Look at you, Justine. You’ve broken into someone’s house and you’re using their soap and toothbrush.

What kind of freak are you?

Feeling colour rush to her cheeks, Justine removed the toothbrush from her mouth and spat the paste out into the washbasin. She quickly wiped her mouth dry with the back of her hand and rinsed the toothbrush clean before replacing it in the holder. Checking everything was how she had found it she tugged the light switch off and left the bathroom.

Given how irrationally she had just behaved, she wondered whether or not she should continue her search. Maybe it would be for the best if she left and forgot the whole thing.

Besides, she didn’t want to risk Lawrie and Kylan coming home and finding her. If they arrived home and she was still upstairs, she’d never be able to get out without them seeing her.

Feeling a twinge of disappointment, but knowing she was making the right decision, she headed for the stairs. She glanced back briefly over her shoulder at the one door she hadn’t tried: the door to Lawrie’s bedroom.

She wondered what it was like, what colour his sheets were, what personal objects he had in there.

A quick look won’t hurt.

She had to go. She had to go before they came home.

Just one quick look. You’ll only be ten seconds.

If they came back and caught her.

They won’t catch you, Justine. You’re already here, just moments away from what you really want to see.

Drawing in a shaky breath, Justine turned and climbed back up to the landing. She went straight to the last door and clasped her hand on the knob. Before entering she hesitated, questioning again whether she was doing the right thing.

Go on. This is what you’ve been waiting for, isn’t it?

Slowly she twisted the knob, eased the door open and stepped inside.

The room was larger than she had imagined, pale and shadowy from the light of the moon. The bed was on the opposite wall to the door, in the centre of the room, and was large and brass and kind of old-fashioned looking. Justine wondered if maybe it was one that had been passed down in the family. The sheets on the bed were plain and pale, blue she thought, though it was difficult to tell in the darkness, and on both sides of the bed were small white cabinets, each holding a brass lamp. The closets in the room ran the full length of the left wall. They were white and louvered with gold-coloured handles. There were four doors, one of them partially opened. Unable to help herself, Justine headed for the open door.

Was this the closet that contained Lawrie’s clothes, the blue jeans and black sweater that he so often wore in class? She pulled the door fully open. The closet was walk-in and contained several dresses and blouses. On the floor were shoes, some heeled, some flat.

Kylan’s closet.

Undeterred, Justine moved on to the second closet. Opening the door, she found what she was looking for. Jeans, shirts, sweaters, sneakers. She stepped inside Lawrie’s closet and went through the entire rack of clothes, touching everything, before taking a shirt off the hanger and slipping it over her own sleeveless blouse. She liked the way it felt against her bare arms, so soft and silky smooth, and the way it smelt of his cologne. Standing in the closet, wearing Lawrie’s shirt, she imagined a scenario where Kylan was out of town and she had accompanied Lawrie back to the house. Back to the house where they had spent the night making passionate love. She glanced over her shoulder at the brass bed, visualising the crumpled pastel sheets where their bodies had lain entwined. The next morning, she had dressed in one of Lawrie’s shirts and wandered around the house in front of him, teasing him with the knowledge that she was completely naked underneath.

The fantasy was good. Slipping off the shirt she returned it to the hanger and looked for other clothes she could try on. Folded on a shelf within the closet, she found a collection of ties. Justine had never seen Lawrie in a tie before. For college he favoured sweaters and T-shirts; she imagined he looked pretty sexy all dressed up in a suit and tie. Removing a black-and-green checked tie from the shelf, she unfolded it and slipped it round her neck.

She lifted the collar of her blouse and fed the tie underneath, then fastened it into place. She glanced at her reflection in the closet mirror that hung on the inside of the door, thinking about how she was wearing a tie against her neck that had at some point been against Lawrie’s neck.

The tie still on, she walked out of the closet wondering what else she would find in the bedroom that belonged to him. An old-fashioned style, white dressing table stood on elegant carved legs in the corner of the room, next to a freestanding full-length mirror. The dressing table seemed to mostly contain Kylan’s things: perfume, moisturising creams, delicate chains and earrings in a little crystal trinket bowl, a pine brush and mirror set.

Nothing of Lawrie’s. Nothing of any interest to Justine.

She moved on to the white units that ran along the wall next to the dressing table. Filled with glass vases, some containing flowers, some empty, brass patterned picture frames containing photographs that she swiftly skipped, candle holders, the wax of the candles nearly burnt away, and little wooden bowls containing potpourri.

On the end of the unit sat a CD player, and on a shelf directly above was a collection of discs. Justine glanced briefly through the titles: mostly a mixture of soul and classical. Different genres, but very romantic.

Did Lawrie and Kylan make love to this music? Maybe with candles burning in the background to create a romantic setting? Justine pushed the thought from her mind. The idea of them making love made her feel ill. The idea that they even slept together in that brass bed made her feel ill.

She looked at the bed and wondered which side Lawrie slept on, before realising there was an easy way to tell: the two bedside tables. Each had a drawer which was bound to contain personal items. It should be easy to tell which one belonged to Lawrie. Excited, Justine made her way across to the left-hand side of the bed and, sitting down on the edge of the firm mattress, pulled the drawer of the table open. It contained cufflinks, menthol sweets and a couple of well-worn paperbacks. Knowing that she was on the right side of the bed, Justine closed the drawer and laid her head down on the pastel pillow. She closed her eyes and buried her face in the soft cotton. It smelt as though it had been freshly laundered and had the scent of warm and musky fabric conditioner. It smelt of Lawrie.

She was here, where she wanted to be, and never wanted to leave. Perhaps if she went to sleep, when she awoke she would find him in bed beside her. She inhaled deeply and hugged the pillow tighter. Now she had laid her head down, Justine realised just how tired she was. If she could sleep for just a little while, no one would be any the wiser.

Would they?