Warhol's Prophecy

Hailey finished doing her make-up and crossed to the wardrobe, where she selected a grey two-piece and black shoes.

She was buttoning the jacket when she heard the front door open. Heard footsteps climbing the stairs.

‘Was she OK?’ Hailey asked as Rob walked into the bedroom.

He nodded. ‘Fine,’ he announced, running appraising eyes over her. ‘Like you said last night, perhaps it’s about time I started doing more for my own daughter.’

‘That wasn’t what I said.’

‘It’s what you meant. I didn’t realize I was so useless as a father. Perhaps you should have told me before.’

‘Now you’re being ridiculous. Stop being such a bloody martyr, Rob. You twist everything I say to suit you.’

He regarded her silently.

‘I’ll pick Becky up,’ Hailey said, brushing fluff from her skirt.

‘If you’re not too busy?’ he chided.

Hailey exhaled. ‘Don’t start, Rob,’ she said. ‘Not now.’

‘I was just making sure. I didn’t know if you might be out until late again. I didn’t know what Jim Marsh might have in store for you today.’

She heard the disdain in his voice.

‘What time are you getting home?’ she wanted to know.

He shrugged.

‘You shouldn’t really be going in to work yet, Rob,’ Hailey told him. ‘The doctor said you had to rest, and I’m sure Frank can manage without you. Even you’re not indispensable, you know.’ She smiled, but he didn’t return it, merely looked at her indifferently.

She was about to say something else when she heard the doorbell.

‘I’ll go,’ Hailey said, making her way down the stairs.

They creaked protestingly as she hurried down to the hall, running a hand through her hair before she opened the door.

There was something familiar about the man who stood there. Dressed in a dark brown suit and shoes that looked as if they hadn’t tasted polish for a while, he smiled thinly at her.

‘Mrs Gibson?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ said Hailey.

‘You don’t remember me, do you?’ said the newcomer. ‘I’m not surprised. The last time we met you had a lot on your mind.’ He fumbled inside his jacket for a slim leather wallet that he flipped open. ‘Detective Constable Tate.’

Hailey smiled.

‘Yes, I remember,’ she told him, her smile fading slightly. ‘You were at the hospital the night my husband was attacked.’

He nodded.

‘What can I do for you?’ Hailey wanted to know.

‘It’s your husband I’d like to speak to. Would that be possible?’

‘Is there something wrong?’

‘Yes, there is.’

98

‘I’M GLAD TO see you’re feeling better now, Mr Gibson,’ said Tate as he shifted position on the sofa.

‘Thanks,’ Rob murmured.

Both he and Hailey were looking at the policeman intently. They saw his brow furrow, and he sat forward slightly.

‘I know you’re both wondering what I want, so I’ll try to get this over with as quickly as possible,’ Tate told them.

He looked directly at Rob. ‘Mr Gibson, you knew a young lady called Sandra Bennett, didn’t you?’ Tate made it sound more like a statement than a question.

Hailey glared at Rob.

‘She worked for me until recently,’ he said flatly.

Tate glanced at Hailey, saw the venom in her expression.

‘We know that,’ said the DC. ‘But you were personally involved with her too, weren’t you?’

Rob swallowed hard.

‘I’m sorry. I know this is difficult,’ Tate continued.

‘How do you know my husband had an affair with her?’ Hailey demanded.

‘We found some correspondence from your husband at her flat,’ Tate informed her. ‘A number of letters. There were some gift tags too, with your writing on them, Mr Gibson.’ He looked at Hailey. ‘You knew this affair was going on, Mrs Gibson?’

‘I found out in the end,’ said Hailey sharply.

Tate nodded, suddenly feeling very intrusive.

‘I didn’t know it was against the law to have an affair,’ said Rob, attempting a smile. ‘You’re not here to arrest me, are you?’

Hailey shot him a furious glance.

‘When was the last time you spoke to Sandra Bennett?’ Tate wanted to know.

‘When I sacked her,’ Rob informed him. ‘Why?’

‘She was murdered three days ago.’

‘Oh God,’ Rob murmured, colour draining from his cheeks.

‘I would have come here sooner, but there were other developments, and we weren’t sure of a positive identification at first.’

Rob ran a hand through his hair.

‘Who killed her?’ he said slowly.

Hailey looked at him angrily.

Still such concern? Even now she’s dead?

‘I wish I could tell you, Mr Gibson.’ Tate looked across at Hailey. ‘Did you ever meet her, Mrs Gibson?’

Hailey shook her head.

‘How was she killed?’ Rob asked quietly.

‘She was stabbed,’ Tate informed him.

‘There’s been nothing in the papers,’ Rob muttered.

‘A murder doesn’t merit many column inches in the nationals these days. It’s become too commonplace, I’m afraid. We haven’t released too many details to the media anyway.’

‘What’s this murder got to do with my husband?’ enquired Hailey. ‘Or did you just assume he’d be interested because he’d been fucking her?’

Tate regarded her evenly. He had heard the vehemence in her voice.

‘During your, er . . . relationship, did you ever meet her brother, Mr Gibson?’ the DC continued.

‘I didn’t even know she had a brother,’ Rob explained. ‘She never mentioned him.’

‘I’m not surprised. He was a small-time villain. Spent most of his life in and out of prison. Not the kind of sibling you’d want to talk about. It’s just that we have reason to believe it was Sandra Bennett’s brother who attacked you last week.’

Rob looked puzzled.

‘Forensics came up with hair and fibre samples that linked him to you. We think it might have been some kind of revenge for what you did to his sister.’

‘I didn’t do anything to his sister,’ Rob protested.