Part One: VII. Friends and Stories

The administrator of the university had been very helpful in giving Neil the names of some of Alicia's fellow students: Kevin Bayles, Elspeth Baran, Bradley French, Ricky Galsworthy, Ida Williams, Andrea Wolf. A good start, he thought.

*

Ida Williams had become what so many literature students became: an English teacher at a country secondary school that was so close to Crawlack that Neil rode his bicycle to get there.

“We were a pretty close group at the time. Much reading, discussing books, writing… well, not me, really, but Bradley French did, and Alicia. Mostly poetry, I believe. She would read some to us occasionally. Pretty, but a bit sad. I had the feeling there was something going on between Bradley and Alicia.”

*

“Why, it was a suicide, wasn't it?” Bradley asked. “At least that’s what the papers said. Terrible thing.”

Bradley French still lived in the city and worked at a publishing house.

“Either that, or a tragic accident, that's the idea,” Neil had said, “but we promised her mum to sort some things out. It's important for her to know what her daughter has been experiencing during those final days, you know.”

“She and I got along pretty alright,” Bradley said. “We were both writers, of a sort, so that's something we talked about.”

“Ida Williams thought something was going on between you and Alicia,” said Neil.

“I see, you spoke to Ida. What is she up to?”

“She works at a school, teaching English.”

“Ah, that figures. Well, something going on, something going on… we went out to dinner once, that was it. Nice girl but not quite my type, a little bit too serious, sombre, almost.”

“I'd rather think there was something going on between her and Ricky Galsworthy. In a negative sense. She clearly hated him. Now he was a jerk, I admit. Everybody had to know he was related to the great John Galsworthy. Don't know if that's true or not. Couldn't care less.”

“There was a hell of a row between those two once. She said she got strange messages in her mailbox or something, inappropriate videos that popped up and vanished again. She thought Galsworthy was behind that. Quite a thing: bastard here, arsehole there...!”

*

“Jeez, dead? Alicia Musgrave?”

Ricky Galsworthy seemed genuinely surprised. “That little viper? When, you said? I have been abroad for a while.”

“She was a bit, you know, odd. Well, not a bit, she was very odd. She thought I sent her videos. Outraged, she was. Raving and ranting in front of everybody.”

“What kind of videos, I don't know. Must have been dirty stuff she got. But not from me! Had the nerve to call me once in the middle of the night.”

“You must stop it now, you must stop it now!” “Completely mad.”

“No, you must stop,” I told her. “Where are those videos that I sent you, show them!”

“But then they had suddenly mysteriously disappeared. Completely off her rockers, she was. But dead... Jeez. Suicide, you believe? You don't think that’s because of what went on between her and me...? Now that would be a rotten idea.”

*

Neil wondered why this altercation between Ricky and Alicia had not been mentioned by Ida Williams. When he called her, she remembered.

“Oh, yes. Ricky Galsworthy. Arrogant brat. Yes, she fell out with him a couple of times. He sent her videos or something like that. She didn't like it. No idea what kind of videos, she never showed me. I never really asked. Must have been something filthy, that would have been just like him.”

“And those videos, were they sent to her phone, or her computer?”

“To her computer, I guess. One of those tiny laptops. We all had one, easy to carry. Alicia had one too, of course. Used it for her writing as well. The brand? No idea. Korean or Japanese, aren’t they all?”

“Now that I come think of it, perhaps Elspeth knows more, Elspeth Baran, Alicia used to hang out with her sometime. That's all I can think of.”

“Her whereabouts? No, I really wouldn't know. Her father owned a bookstore somewhere in the city. I remember, because that's how she got to love books, she told us.”

*

Tracking down Elspeth Baran had been quite easy. Baran's Books was prominently on the internet, phone number and all.

After her studies, Elspeth had returned to the city and got a job in her father's store. Neil had arranged to meet her.

The store was in the city centre. Near the door, an employee was stacking some books away, and Neil asked her where he could find Elspeth. The young woman immediately got up, reached out her hand, and said cheerfully: “I am Elspeth! And you're Mr Yard.”

“Neil will do,” he said.

“Come, let's have some coffee somewhere. Easier to talk.”

“Dad!” she yelled into the store. “Be out for a minute!”

From behind the counter, an older, grey gentleman raised his hand in approval. “See you later!”

“Alicia Musgrave, oh yes!” Elspeth started after they had ordered coffee. “I heard she passed. How come, then?”

Neil told her what had probably happened.

“That poor girl! But she did have a heavy heart, that one.”

In short, Neil told her what he had agreed with Alicia's mother. “We try to give her some support, something of a closure. We want to leave her an image, a picture of who her daughter has been, those last few years. That's why I have been asking questions, here and there.”

“Well, she was a bit paranoid. Silly.” Elspeth said. “She said someone sent her things, disturbing messages. No, nothing sexual or the like. Pictures and videos of dry landscapes, wars, starving people, undernourished children, dying babies, what have you. She could never show me any, because she said they vanished as quickly as they appeared. ‘Message deleted’, it read. She had hundreds of those.”

“She said somebody of our group had special software to do this.”

“Did she say who this somebody was?” Neil asked.

“Yes, Ricky. Ricky Galsworthy was his name. She said he had bothered her in other ways too. But that's what he did to everybody, especially after he had a few drinks. Ricky was a bit of a nuisance.”