Strange Ideas: Enigma

Continuing with the A to Z Challenge 2016

The most recent photos filled Harrison’s screen: standard selfies, arty landscapes, a few snaps of various lunches if they had been particularly well-presented. Nothing that gave him a clue as to India's state of mind in the weeks leading up to her suicide. Harrison let out the breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding. What had he expected to find? A montage of misery? A catalogue of complaints about the hopelessness of life? Surely the police would have checked all this stuff already anyway?

Answers. I thought there would be something…

From the looks of it, India documented her life through Instagram, posting random enigmatic details of her day with obsessive regularity. He clicked on a photo of India and a blonde woman, taken a couple of weeks ago, to enlarge it. It looked like it had been snapped in a bar: the empty glasses and cheesy grins hinting at the length of time the two women had been there.

Liquid lunch with the in-laws ;) the caption read.

He tore his eyes away from India’s face and studied the other woman more carefully.

So this was the sister-in-law? What was her name? Emily something? Emma?

She was in her late thirties, maybe, wearing too much make-up, with mousey-brown roots revealing the truth behind her sun-kissed salon highlights. Harrison hadn’t paid much attention to the photo of James Cooper that had accompanied the article, but he supposed there must be some resemblance between this woman and her brother.

He clicked off the picture and scanned through the others, searching for James in order to confirm his hunch. He reached the bottom of the page- nothing. Strange. No smug couple shots? With every other detail being worthy of an upload, it seemed odd that her husband should feature in none of the moments she deemed necessary to record. But maybe, given her recent relationship status change, it wasn’t so unexpected. Intrigued nonetheless, he clicked to view India’s full Instagram account and kept scrolling down.

No…no…wait. There. A selfie, taken in bed, brunette curls fanning across the pillow, a man’s arm draped across her chest, the top of a fluffy blond head just visible below India’s cheeky smirk. Harrison’s heart skipped a beat. That tattoo.

A simple heart, composed of black Celtic-style swirls. Manly enough to show off at the beach, yet soppy enough to hint at a more spiritual side. The sort of tattoo that a teenage boy, giddy on alcopops and drunk on love, might ask for to impress his summer crush.

His tattoo.

The story continues tomorrow with Frenemy.