by John Nicholl
I was cold, dirty and shivering as I walked back towards my cottage to clean up my slaughterhouse and tools. They serve me well and warrant looking after. I think that’s the least I can do.
A long hot shower, a change of clothing, and I was ready to get rid of the car a few hours later. I waited until after dark, of course. And I planned to avoid that same beach resort for fear of being seen. But there’s always an alternative if you think about it hard enough. I settled on a local woodland about five miles from my home. The car was old, an unreliable rust bucket. But it somehow kept going until I was deep in the forest in the early hours of the morning. I took a red metal petrol can, usually used for my lawnmower, from the boot, soaked both the inside and outside of the car with the flammable liquid, and set it alight with the toss of a match. I so felt like a drink as I watched the flames leap and dance for a few seconds, surprised by the burning intensity of inferno. Dark smoke spiralled into the night-time air, and then the petrol tank exploded, a shock wave of energy knocking me off my feet and onto my back.
I struggled upright with a pained frown, keen to get out of there as quickly as possible as the forest came alive. Could life get any better? Yes, it fucking well could. I turned away without looking back and cursed crudely under my breath. If my father were watching, he’d be laughing. It was time to get away. Some things never change. It was going to be another long walk home.
28
I took a few days sick leave after the puppy man’s visit and eventual departure, having told Maisie a close relative had died unexpectedly at a regrettably young age. I wouldn’t say I liked lying, not about something like that. It didn’t make me feel good about myself. But it was something I had to do. A relatively minor sin to support the bigger picture, that’s the way I look at it. In reality, I needed time to recover. Time to let my injuries heal. My split lip was still slightly swollen but healing. There was a little scab, but it was hardly noticeable. But my missing tooth was a lot harder to ignore. The glaring gap in my front teeth made me cringe every time I looked in the bathroom mirror. The light is so very bright, and so I couldn’t miss it. But as shaken as I was, I still didn’t feel that either injury justified any more time off work. I was feeling guilty about being paid to do nothing. And hanging around the cottage resulted in more drinking.
So I applied more make-up than usual to mask my remaining bruising, got into my car, and drove to the probation office to get on with my life. I played a favourite country music CD as I went and sang along to the familiar tunes. I wasn’t planning another killing for a week or two. It was time to concentrate on my career, and I needed time to regain my strength.
I parked in my usual spot, checked my make-up in the car’s vanity mirror for one final time, and exited the vehicle, intending to act as if I hadn’t been away. I was very much hoping that my colleagues would ignore my facial flaws, saying nothing at all. But it didn’t work out that way, not even close. Maisie studied my face as soon as she saw me. She made polite conversation initially asking me how the fictional funeral went, but I could see her staring at me. I knew a question was coming. I could feel it in my bones.
‘Alice, I’ve got to ask. What on earth happened to your face?’
I silently admonished myself for not having prepared an adequate explanation in advance. Something to shut the interfering bitch up. My chest tightened. It wasn’t like me to be so ill-prepared. Think, Alice, think. ‘I, er, I slipped on the ice.’
‘Oh dear, when?’
I took a backward step as my head began to ache. The bitch seemed suspicious. Why was she still asking questions? ‘It happened at the funeral.’
Maisie appeared less than persuaded. Why oh why was she sticking her nose in? How dare she? What the hell?
‘But I thought most of the snow had gone by then? How on earth did it happen?’
The nosey bitch was saying too much and asking too much also. Such a big mouth. I tapped my foot against the floor. Shut up, Maisie, shut up, shut up, shut the fuck up! I wanted to say it. I wanted to shout it. To grip her shoulders to shake her until she learnt the error of her ways. But I somehow kept control.
‘The funeral was in Scotland. It’s colder there.’
‘Scotland? You didn’t mention it.’
I clenched my hands, digging the nails into my palms before relaxing my fingers. What the hell was wrong with the woman? Why another question? Always more questions. I had thought she liked me, that she wanted to be my friend. So much had changed. My control was slipping now. I needed a drink. I wanted to slap her, to silence her, to tape her mouth shut. That evening in the Indian restaurant now felt so very long ago.
‘My cousin lived near Edinburgh. I flew up from Cardiff. I thought I told you.’ I was pleased with my quick thinking. I thought I’d done well under pressure. I still do. But even that wasn’t enough to shut the bitch up. Maisie smiled as she suggested a coffee. But I knew what she was up to. She was trying to catch me out. You can’t kid a kidder. I’d played that game before.
‘I’ll put the kettle on.’
Maisie followed me as I headed to the staff kitchen. Can you believe that? The sneaky, meddlesome bitch! She wouldn’t leave me alone, even for a moment. Maybe going back to work was a mistake after all.
‘You must have had one hell of a fall to knock out a tooth, poor you. Have you made a dental appointment?’
‘No, not as yet, I haven’t had the time.’
She pulled her lips back, revealing those over-white teeth of hers. As if they were something I wanted to see. ‘I can highly recommend my guy if you’re interested. He’s a bit pricey, but he’s worth it.’
I’d been trying to talk without revealing my teeth. But now she knew. She’d made that clear with her snide comments. And she was asking those invasive questions again, pretending she wanted to help. Just to annoy me, to increase my discomfort. I hated her for that. I filled the kettle and switched it on, willing her to leave the room.
‘I’m happy with my dentist, thanks.’
She smiled again, revealing those gleaming teeth as if mocking my misfortune. Did she know what had really happened? Was that what she was getting at? Did she know Simpson was dead?
‘Okay, if you’re sure. But he really is excellent. Let me know if you change your mind.’
My hand was shaking as I spooned instant coffee granules into two mugs. Maisie had her hand on the door handle now. Thank God for small mercies. She was about to go. That would at least give me time to think.
‘I’ll see you in my office, Alice. No biscuits for me today, thanks. I’m on a diet. I’m starting to look like a beached whale.’
I poured the boiling water, vapour rising in the air. Why had she said such a thing? Was she playing me as I had her? Yes, that was it; she was trying to draw me in with her feigned friendship. She was encouraging me to talk openly, to share my many secrets. And then, of course, she’d betray me, my Judas. But I was never going to let that happen. Does she think I’m that stupid? Maisie’s not to be trusted. She’s a snake in the grass.
‘You look fine to me.’
She opened the door, raising my hopes. ‘I don’t think Rob would agree with you.’
Why mention her piggy police husband? Was it some veiled threat? What if she pointed the police in my direction? Perhaps I should kill her too.
‘I’ll bring you your coffee when it’s ready.’
Maisie nodded and then finally left. No doubt preparing for her next verbal attack.
As I delivered Maisie’s hot beverage to her office a minute later, I was planning to place it on her desk, and then get out of there as fast as possible. The last thing I wanted was another interrogation. But once again, she was there with her questions. She seemed obsessed with my life. Why oh why didn’t she ever shut up? She just wouldn’t let it go.
‘Thanks, Alice, much appreciated as always. It’s good to have you back.’
I went to leave. But she wouldn’t let me slip away. ‘Aren’t you going to s
it down for a chat?’
I felt like screaming. ‘I’ve got work to catch up with.’
‘Oh, come on, you can spare five minutes, there’s something I want to tell you.’
I pictured her gagged and bleeding, handcuffed in my cottage like those before her. I met her eyes, but I didn’t sit. I looked at my watch, making it obvious. ‘What is it?’
‘Simpson’s missing, the offender we discussed at the meeting. The police aren’t jumping to any conclusions. But Rob says they suspect it may be murder.’
My entire body was trembling. ‘Is DI Kesey involved?’
‘She’s the senior investigating officer. She’s heading up a major investigation team.’
Oh God, they were looking for me. They were getting closer. The room became an impressionist blur as I dropped my coffee to the floor. I could hear Maisie saying something, but she sounded so far away, somewhere in the distance. And then my legs gave way under me and down I went. Everything went black as I hit the carpet.
29
I came around on Maisie’s office floor with a green uniformed paramedic I recognised from school looming over me, larger than life and twice as ugly. His younger female colleague stood behind him, holding some kind of stretcher with a stupid smirk on her pixy face. Maisie was in her usual seat looking down at me, still snooping in that sneaky way of hers, no surprises there. But at least it wasn’t the police. I wasn’t being arrested, or, at least, not yet. Maybe things weren’t quite as bad as I’d first feared. The older of the two paramedics was the first to speak.
‘Hi, Alice, nice to have you back with us. I think you must have fainted. My name is David Williams. Call me Dai. Do you remember me from school? I was in the upper sixth when you were in the lower.’
My head hurt when I tried to raise it. I said I remembered him very well.
‘Right, stay where you are. Don’t try to get up. You’ve had a bit of a bang on the head. You hit the corner of the desk on your way down. I’ve patched you up as best I can, but you’re going to need a couple of stitches when we get you to the hospital. Is there anything I need to know about? Diabetes, epilepsy, anything along those lines?’
‘I’ve been under a lot of stress.’
‘Ah, right, that makes sense. We’ll tell the doctors all about it. Now, try your best to relax. You’re in good hands. You’re going to be okay.’
I repeatedly blinked, attempting to clear my vision. There were tiny stars everywhere I looked. ‘I think, I think I’m going to puke.’
He turned me on my side as the female I didn’t know hurriedly left the room. She returned less than a minute later with a cardboard receptacle, which she placed on the floor close to my face. I held it to my mouth, spitting out a mouthful of vomit.
‘Are the police coming?’
Dai took my hand in his, looking down at me with a puzzled expression. ‘Why would the police be coming?’
I closed my eyes, unable to come up with an answer. I wondered if he was lying. Perhaps he was conning me. Maybe the three of them were in it together. However, there were no blue lights. And I hadn’t heard a siren.
‘What happened to your mouth?’
Oh, for fuck’s sake! Now he was snooping too. Was there anyone I could trust? Why did everyone feel the need to stick their noses into my private affairs?
‘I slipped on the ice.’
‘What, onto your face?’
I snapped back at him. ‘Nobody hit me if that’s what you’re thinking. Not that it’s any of your business.’
He turned and nodded towards his colleague. No one believed a word I said. I could sense the tension. It was written all over their faces.
‘Okay, let’s get her onto the stretcher.’
The younger paramedic stepped forward with a broad smile I didn’t appreciate. She spoke with a local accent, but I hadn’t seen her before that day. I think she’s a snooper too.
‘We’re going to get you checked out at the hospital, Alice. Don’t you worry. We’ll look after you. You relax, we’ll do the lifting.’
I wanted to jump up, to run and keep running, but there was nowhere to go. And my head hurt so very badly. My vision still hadn’t cleared. Maybe I was suffering from concussion. I heard someone mention the word at some point. I’m not sure who. I let them roll me onto the stretcher. I had no fight left.
Maisie followed as the two paramedics carried me towards the ambulance at the far side of the small car park. The bitch still wouldn’t allow me a moment’s peace. She still wouldn’t shut the fuck up. What the hell is wrong with the woman? She’s become another dark shadow pulling me down, a watcher brimming with bad intentions.
‘I don’t want you back in work until you’re well, Alice. Do you hear me? You need a good long rest. I’m speaking as your boss now as well as your friend. You haven’t been yourself lately. I’ll give you a ring sometime tomorrow to see how you’re doing. I’ve got your mobile number. Please do whatever the doctors tell you to do. You need to look after yourself.’
At that very moment, my father appeared, laughing like a demented hyena, no doubt due to Maisie’s lecture. The bastard chooses his times so very well. He always makes an appearance when I’m at my most vulnerable. How does he do that? I couldn’t see him, but he was there. Chatter, chatter, chatter. I could hear him whispering in my ear.
She’s onto you, Alice. She knows your secrets. It’s only a matter of time till you’re caught.
Father taunted me like that time and again, and I feared the others could hear him too. My freedom was hanging by a thread. I yelled out to silence him. ‘Shut the fuck up, you monster. Get out of my life!’
Maisie and the two paramedics were looking at each other now, exchanging knowing glances, as if they thought me insane. No one seemed to understand what was happening except me. Only I knew the truth. That’s not a nice place to be, at the centre of a mad world. I clawed at my scalp as Dai closed the vehicle’s rear doors with me in the back, strapped to some sort of mattress. He sat alongside me with an open hand resting on my shoulder, pressing down a little too firmly for my liking. The female I didn’t know did the driving.
‘Don’t struggle, Alice. We don’t want you falling again, now, do we? The straps are for your own good. Please try your best to relax. Throwing yourself about isn’t going to help you at all.’
He plunged a needle deep into my upper arm as I glared up at him screaming. I tried to bite him with a rapid jerk of my head, but he moved quickly, jumping back before my mouth reached his arm. He was the winner and I the loser. I’m sure that amused my father, no end. Within seconds I was drowsy, then unconscious. I was lost to welcome sleep. If only it had stayed that way. Maybe it would have been better if I hadn’t woken up at all.
30
I arrived at my GP surgery two days later with a hospital letter in a sealed brown envelope clutched tightly in my right hand. I handed it in to the sour-faced receptionist and then sat for what seemed like an age in the overcrowded waiting room, glancing at one out-of-date magazine after another before eventually taking my phone from my pocket.
I wasn’t concerned about my health, not in the slightest. I haven’t got any problems to speak of. But seeing my doctor was the only way I was ever going to get back to work. So I sat there and waited like a good little girl, doing what I was told, playing their ridiculous games. At least my visit would provide an opportunity to obtain some more of my sleeping draught. That was a positive. I took some satisfaction in that.
I was finally called to see the doctor about half an hour or so after my arrival. By that time, I’d discarded my reading material and had identified another potential target on my smartphone. They’re such useful little devices – mines of helpful information for the curious. As I stood, I consoled myself with the fact that the time waiting hadn’t been entirely wasted. I’d sent an invite to my next prospective gentleman caller. He wasn’t hooked quite yet. But he soon would be. Another monster man would be on his way. This time I was posin
g as a sixteen-year-old girl. A little older than usual. But it served my purpose.
Dr Warren sat behind her messy desk looking more concerned than I’d ever seen her before. I assumed her demeanour was something to do with me. We live in a perverse world where the wise are often misunderstood. She had the letter open in front of her. ‘Take a seat, Alice. There are things we need to discuss. I’ve asked my receptionist not to send in another patient for at least fifteen minutes.’
‘I’m in a bit of a rush.’
Her expression darkened. ‘We can always arrange an alternative appointment if that suits you better.’
I shrugged, accepting defeat, my hands held wide. ‘Okay, let’s get on with it.’
‘You were taken into the hospital directly from your workplace first thing in the morning. And yet your blood tests showed that your blood alcohol level was three times the legal limit for driving. I’m concerned, Alice. Is there anything you want to tell me?’
‘They must have mixed my results up with somebody else.’
She frowned hard. ‘I very much doubt that was the case.’
‘I’m not a drinker. I enjoy an occasional glass of wine, and that’s it. I don’t know what more I can say.’
She glanced at the letter again and then at me. ‘The casualty consultant tells me that you refused to speak to a psychiatrist despite his advice. Can you tell me about that?’
I blew out a series of short breaths. ‘I fainted, I had a fall, I’m not mentally ill. Why would I need a psychiatrist?’
The look on her face suggested she was finding the conversation almost as tricky as I was. Why didn’t she shut her stupid mouth?
‘You appeared to have been hearing voices.’
I asked myself why everyone was against me, even her. What a bitch! ‘I’d had a bang on the head. I’m fine now. I don’t hear voices. I never have. This is becoming ridiculous.’
