I lay in bed that night, the drawl of the radio downstairs relaying the facts of Dayna’s murder. Facts that were wrong, facts that contradicted the news report on the TV a mere hour earlier. I stood up and slammed my bedroom door shut, desperate to drown out the noise. To drown out the speculation. As I made my way back to bed, zoned out like a zombie from the anti-anxiety meds I had taken after my talk with the police, my eyes fell on my laptop. I thought back to all the murders I had researched over the years for “The Murder Sessions”. I always spent hours poring over the details, meticulously cross-referencing everything to make sure there were no contradictions between articles. How could two local reporters not even get this right? One had reported Dayna was an aspiring actress and the other had reported she had drowned. How difficult was it to get your basic facts rights?
I thought for a moment that I should set them straight; I had received an email from a fan sending their condolences over the loss of my friend, asking if I would cover her death in the podcast. At first I had felt repulsed, absolutely not: I didn’t want Dayna’s death to become a spectacle. It was too late for that now.
There were news vans parked up all over the village; outside the hotel, the store, even at the end of our street. A helicopter had passed over earlier in the day; a sight usually only seen in the skies above Kirkleithen if someone needed airlifted to hospital, or had gotten lost in the surrounding mountains. Curious as to whether they had left yet, I padded through to the spare room on the opposite end of the hall and peered out the window. The view up towards The Breakwater confirming what I suspected: the vans still sat there, nestled together. Like little vultures in their metal nests waiting for their next prey. God forbid they miss a shot of a bereaved mother leaving her home, or a grief stricken father getting into his car.
I balled my hand in to a fist, looking away from the vans and across the bay. I could just make out the radio shack from here, the rhythmic illumination from the lighthouse bouncing off the yellow police tape every few seconds.
“What are you
doing in here poppet?” Granda’s voice made me jump.
“I was just
wondering if those news vans had left yet.” I slipped away from the window and
turned to face him.
“Ah they’ll
leave once they catch wind of something more interesting in Inverness. Give it
a couple of days. It was the same back in the day – journalists and reports
sniffing around here like dogs.”
“Did you ever speak to them?”
He blew a sharp breath through his nose. “Aye. And the bastard twisted everything I said. That’s what first led people to suspect me! A load of bullocks it was. You want my advice? Stay away from them.”
I nodded, sinking into the spare bed that was barren of its sheets. Mum insisted on cleaning them every week even though nobody had slept on them for years.
“They can’t even
get the simple facts right about what happened to Dayna.” I said, thinking
aloud really. “Do you think it would be wrong of me to do a podcast about it
Granda? In Dayna’s honour – to get the truth out there. Not warped facts and
rumours.”
He shot me a
smile. “I think that would be a great idea. Your mum wants you to distract
yourself and take your mind off it but I know you. I think you’ll feel better
doing something like that.”
“Thanks Granda.
You’re right.”
Without another word I marched back through to my desk, opened up my laptop and plugged in my mic. It wasn’t as high quality as the one I stored at the shack, but as it was a crime scene, I wasn’t allowed to remove any of my equipment for the time being. I would have to make do with my old mic, the one I had used when the podcast had started out.
Just as I loaded up the recording software, a flock of gulls flew passed the window, screeching and cawing. I moved over to the window and was about to pull it shut when a shadow in the trees caught my eye. It froze when it realised it had been spotted, the light from the kitchen window reflecting in it’s eyes. It slowly retreated back into the trees. I took a deep breath, telling myself it was only a fox or a badger, before pulling the window shut and taking my place back at the desk.
I cleared my throat. “Good evening Bloodlusters. I apologise for my unexpected hiatus but as some of you may be aware… my good friend and once host of “The Murder Sessions” Dayna Khalid, was found dead on Friday. It is with a heavy heart that I am recording this, but with the amount of speculation and rumours going around, I owe it to our friend to set the record straight. Dayna, for those of you who may not know, was a twenty-one year old model and social media influencer. Dayna’s father was from Dubai, but she was born in London where she was raised. We first met when we were six years old. Her grandparents owned the hotel in my village and she would spend Summer holidays here. Over the years, we became close friends and when she finally moved up here for good at the age of fourteen, after her grandparents retired, we became inseparable. We went to school together, spent our weekends together – hell, we started this podcast together. However, when Dayna turned eighteen she moved to the city to pursue her career, but not even the physical distance could pull us apart.
But unfortunately, our story takes a dark turn. She came home on Friday to visit me, we actually recorded an episode of the podcast for old times sake, that I will release at a later date. That night was just like the old times, we drank, we partied… and then we parted ways.”
I stopped for a moment, my voice breaking as I held back tears. “After I went home, Dayna went to meet somebody. The details at this point are still hazy, but we believe she met a lover at her parents cabin just outside of town. Four days later I found her body… she had been stabbed to death, my beautiful best friend… Police believe she was killed in the hot tub, due to the high amount of fluid in her lungs. Currently, there are no known suspects. However…”
I hesitated.
Should I say what I was about to say? It might help, I thought, a listener
might hear it and know of someone she was seeing. “Dayna frequented websites
such as FanPics, and it is possible it was a client from such a site that she
was meeting with. I beg you, if anyone out there knows something, or someone,
who may know anything about what happened that night, please come forward. We
owe it to Dayna to find the bastard who did this and bring them to justice. I
promise to keep you up to date with nothing but the facts. Until next time,
stay safe.”
I saved the file and went to upload it. My finger hovered over the mouse pad for a second; was this disrespectful? Would it piss people off? Click. Too late. It was out there now.
*
The next day, there was still no updates on Dayna’s case. The post-mortem on Margaret had come back inconclusive: her bones showed no sign of what had killed her all those years ago. There was going to be a small ceremony to finally lay her body to rest.
Sean appeared at my door in the late afternoon; I was sprawled across the sofa reading all the comments and emails regarding the podcast I had uploaded the night before. It was my most successful yet; over night I had received thousands of well wishes and hundreds of new followers. People from all over the United Kingdom were tuning into hear about the murder.
“You’ll get
cross eyed if you stare at that thing all day,” Sean had interrupted.
I glanced up at
his freckled face and forced a smile. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I’m taking you
out for dinner.”
I shook my
head. “Seriously? You think I want to go out and celebrate?”
He gestured
towards the kitchen, where mum was humming as she mopped the tiles with vigour.
“We need to talk.”
“We can talk here.”
He lowered his voice. “I’ve got
some information about Dayna.”
I shot up, throwing my phone down.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll tell you
over dinner, come on. You need to stop wasting away at home.”
I pointed to my
makeup free face and unwashed hair that was tousled into a bun. “I look like a
tramp.”
“You look beautiful
to me. Lets go.”
“Ugh… fine. But
I’m ordering the langoustine.”
“You don’t even
like seafood!”
“Aye but I’m
making you pay for making me leave the house!”
I slipped on a pair of flip-flops and made my way out the front door. The sky was grey but the air was close and humid. Beads of sweat trickled down the back of my neck as we made our way to the only dining spot Kirkleithen had to offer; The Breakwater. I had hoped to see Mrs Khalid behind the bar when we entered, but found a member of her staff, Kelly, instead. No surprise, really, I wondered if anyone ever returned to working after losing a child.
Kelly shot us a solemn smile. “Hi Blair, Sean. How you doing?”
I shrugged. “As
well as can be I suppose. How is Mrs Khalid?”
Kelly shook her
head. “As you’d expect. Here for food?”
Sean nodded. “We
are indeed. I’ll have a pint please, white wine for you Blair?”
My phone continually vibrating in my pocket distracted me:
more notifications of new followers of “The Murder Sessions.”
“Blair? Wine?”
I stuffed my phone back into my pocket. “Sorry! Sure. Why not? Might as well drown my sorrows.”
“Sit wherever
you want, the place is dead… Uh, sorry.”
Sean made a beeline for the furthest away table by the window. I sat opposite him. His face was flecked with spots of mud, presumably from working on the farm, and I couldn’t help but smile.
“You’re covered
in mud,” I remarked. “You could have showered.”
He pointed
towards my hair. “Could say the same to you.”
I giggled. “Cheeky
shite. I’m in mourning. Speaking of… what did you want to tell me?”
He opened his mouth to talk but Kelly appeared with our
drinks. She placed them on the table in front of us, along with a couple of
menus. Not that we needed them, we knew the menu better than we knew each
other.
“Just shout over
when you’re ready.”
I shuffled
impatiently in my seat. “Great, thanks. Will do.”
She made her way over to the bar and Sean leaned in towards
me.
“I was speaking
to Scott about stuff. He was pretty tight lipped but he said Dayna was using
sex sites!”
I rolled my
eyes. “Is that it? I know! I’m the
one who told them.”
He sat back in
his chair and sighed. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t think you knew.”
I frowned. “Of course I knew. I
knew everything about her.”
It was his turn to roll his eyes. “Well anyway, they have a couple of leads from those sites. They’ve traced the IP’s back to a couple of guys in Inverness. You’d think people had never heard of VPN’s before! Scott reckons it’s a dead end anyway…”
“Why does he
think that?”
“He thinks it
was someone in town that did it.”
“Did he say who?”
“YOU!”
We jumped, as the voice roared from the other side of the
room. A tall, bearded man in a business suit came barrelling towards us, his
hand pointing at me. It was Mohammed
Khalid; Dayna’s father.
“YOU!” He
bellowed again. Nostrils flaring, moustache flapping.
I stood up from
the table. “Mr Khalid-“
“You have some
nerve showing your face here! How dare you broadcast Dayna’s personal
information like that!”
Ah, so he’d heard about the podcast.
“Mr Khalid”
Sean interjected, “I don’t think Blair meant anything by it. She’s just trying
to help-“
“Help? Help! By doing what? Dragging my babies name through the mud with these disgusting lies!”
As he stood in the middle of his own restaurant, veins popping out his forehead, I was transported back six years. Dayna had just turned fifteen and we were having a sleepover at the hotel. She had decided we should sneak down to the bar after close and have ourselves a little nightcap.
“Won’t your dad
go mental if he finds us?”
She had waved me off. “Pfft, he doesn’t scare me. Besides, he sleeps with earplugs in – he wont hear anything.”
Neither of us were any good at handling our drink at that age and we got carried away. We dared each other to take shots of random things behind the bar: i could still taste the burn of tequila on the back of my throat. The bitter tingle of AppleSourz on my tongue. We had nearly thrown up as the taste of Sambuca went up our noses. Dayna had put some music on the jukebox and climbed up onto the bar.
Stepping over
beer mats and the taps with the grace of a ballet dancer, she had flipped her
hair and said: “Don’t you think I’d make a great dancer?”
I giggled. “What?
Like a stripper?”
She giggled, wiggled her hips and lost her balance. She let
out a squeal and grasped at the wall mounted optics for support. They came away
from the wall, sending her flying off the bar and onto the ground. I jumped
from my bar stool, lost my balance and landed on my bum next to her. She sat
up, regaining her breath before the two of us descended into hysterical
laughter. We were interrupted by the bar door swinging open.
“Dayna! What do
you think you are doing?”
Mr Khalid had dragged her across the ground by her hair, pulled her up to her feet and sniffed the alcohol on her breath. I could remember the sobering effect of her screams as she begged him for forgiveness. I could remember the way he told her she was a disgrace to her family. But most of all, I could remember the sickening thud as he had smacked her across the face. His eyes flaring and teeth gritted, in the exact same expression he wore before me now.