Copycat Killer

by Hermione Stark

  I ignore her. She doesn’t care.

  All you have to do is admit to yourself what you want. What’s the point of holding back? You’re going to die one day, and then you’ll regret all the things you never did when you were young and life was full of possibilities.

  I continue to ignore her. Sooner or later she has to shut up. I’m in charge. She can’t make me do anything that I don’t want to.

  If you don’t use it, you’re going to lose it, she taunts. That tall muscular body. Don’t you want to touch it? Put your hands on it and feel how warm and smooth it is? She continues in this vein for what feels like forever. Then she changes tack. Don’t you want him to think of you next time he goes to interview Beatrice Grictor? Trust me, I can show you how to make him forget all about stupid little Beatrice.

  I don’t know how, but eventually I drop off. I dream of being back in Raif’s office, and the waft of applesmoke perfume that came into the room along with Beatrice’s pretty little heels. When my alarm wakes me it feels like I’ve only been asleep for minutes. Beastie is curled up by my feet. I am clenching something tightly in my fist. It is Storm’s gold coin.

  I stare at it, disconcerted. How did that get there? Storm had put it in the evidence bag on his dining table. I slip quietly into the lounge but to my dismay, the evidence bag is gone. I can hear Storm moving around in his room. I hurry back to my guest bathroom to wash up and finger-brush my teeth.

  When I emerge, Storm is in the kitchen cooking breakfast. I sense he doesn’t usually cook breakfast and that he is doing it for my benefit. He is freshly showered, his hair deliciously damp, and wearing an impeccable smart-casual outfit suitable for field work.

  Oh so yummy, says the little voice sadly. What a wasted opportunity.

  I can’t entirely disagree. I stand in the doorway quietly, watching him. It is some time before I realize that he is perfectly aware that I am there.

  He grins at me, and puts a plate of toast and eggs and mushrooms and sausages down for me on the table, and a glass of orange juice too. “Tea?” he says.

  “Yes please.” I look approvingly at the plate. He has not been stingy with the portions. My mouth is watering.

  “Yoghurt?” He places one in from of me before I can answer.

  I open it out of curiosity. It is orange flavored, which I think must be weird until I try it. It is oh so tangy and creamy and delicious. One taste and I gulp the rest down in large spoonfuls. Where has this been all my life?

  I find Storm is watching me and smiling. “Sleep okay?” he asks.

  “Sure.”

  “Liar,” he says gently. “You look like you haven’t slept a wink.”

  “Gosh, you really know how to make a girl feel good.”

  He pulls my chair out for me at the breakfast table. He opens his mouth to speak.

  “Don’t,” I say.

  “Don’t what?”

  “If you’re going to tell me that my not sleeping is bad for me and that I need to seek help, then I don’t want to hear it. Okay?”

  He makes a face. “Let me say just one thing. You should talk to Beatrice. She does pro bono work. I’m sure she would be happy to take you on as a patient, and she’s good.”

  “You’re not serious!”

  “Just think about it, okay?”

  I grit my teeth. Sure, think about being a charity case and rely on that woman. No chance.

  Don’t be a fool, the little voice hisses. The more he thinks Beatrice is a sweet nobody, the better for us. Tell him you’ll make up with her.

  The hell I will, I snap.

  We eat in silence, me because I am obsessing about Beatrice, and him probably already thinking about work.

  Last time we had breakfast together like this was the day we met in the lavish environs of Wintersdeep Castle, during the Royal Engagement Gala. I had thought I was at the start of a whirlwind romance. I had held his hand and it had felt like the most natural thing in the world. I remember exactly what his touch felt like. It feels a lifetime ago. And I am a different person now.

  I push the memory out of my mind. It’s no use dwelling on it. What I need to focus on is how the hell to pin down Beatrice. She is involved in this somehow. I need to follow the evidence, but I’m not sure she’s left any. It is Wednesday already. Rent is due tomorrow. I have to do it today, and I have no idea how. Storm was right about one thing. She really is a smart lady.

  If you don’t have evidence, what do you do? Extract a confession. So that means I am going to have to go back to her house. But confronting her is more likely to get me locked up, not her.

  Stupid plan, says the little voice slyly. Especially since she won’t be at her house

  How do you know that? I ask. Where will she be?

  Somewhere you can’t get to her.

  Are you going to tell me or not?

  I know exactly where, and I know how you can get there too, but you're going to need my help.

  Doing what? I ask suspiciously.

  I’ll tell you if you say you’ll do things my way. Agreed?

  Maybe, I say warily.

  You want to get it done today, then you have to agree.

  Fine, I snap. What do I need to do?

  First thing we need is to get back to your apartment. Now are you going to make things right with Storm, or what?

  Storm has finished eating and is finishing his coffee with a thoughtful look on his face. I was right about him thinking about work.

  “I’m going to take you into the office today,” he says. “You can wait there until we’re sure that your apartment is safe to go back to. I can post an officer there with you tonight if you like?” He continues to outline plans for my safety.

  Taking care to soften my voice, I say, “Listen, you were right about Beatrice. I will apologize to her, okay?”

  A cute little line wrinkles his forehead. He is unconvinced.

  “Gosh, do you want me to apologize to you too?” I mutter.

  He smiles at that. “Just Beatrice is fine. What led to the change of heart?”

  I shrug. “Introspection.”

  “That’s great.” He hands me her business card. “I’ll be a couple of minutes. Are you ready to leave?”

  You need to get back to your apartment, the little voice insists. We need things.

  “I’m ready to go, but I can’t come with you. I have a shift at work. If I don’t turn up, they’ll fire me.”

  Storm is scowling. “I’ll speak to them. After the shock of yesterday, the least they can do is—”

  “Storm,” I say, interrupting in a reasonable tone. “I’m a grown woman. I can take care of myself. I need to get home to get ready for work.”

  “Your apartment is being processed by forensics.”

  “If you drop me off, then you can supervise me.” I give him a pleading smile.

  He doesn't look happy about it, but he agrees. “You really should think about taking the day off,” he says. “Shock can have an unexpected effect.”

  While he takes the plates to the sink, I go to get his jacket for him. I slip his gold coin into his pocket. I can feel the little voice lashing about in my mind. She is excited.

  Chapter 17

  DIANA

  When we get back to my apartment, there is crime scene tape on the door. I can see smudges where the techs have dusted for fingerprints. I ask Storm to wait on the landing outside my door while I go in and get my things. He is reluctant to do so, but I point out that my shower is inside my room and unless he wants to perv on me, he’d better wait out here.

  I am too embarrassed to let Storm in even just to check the room is safe. I don’t want him to see that I live in one room, or that it has a shower cubicle inside it. Especially when I have now seen his lovely spacious apartment.

  AngelBeastie turns her nose up at keeping Storm company in the hallway, and insists on coming in with me. I take the quickest shower possible, and change into my black work trousers and white blouse, my usual catering
uniform.

  You will need a sexy dress too, says the little voice.

  “Why?” I ask.

  Because we’re going to the Ambassador’s Ball, she says.

  I frown. “Wasn’t telling Storm that I was going to work just a ruse to make him leave me alone? I thought I was going to hunt down Beatrice Grictor today?”

  We are, she says. The Ambassador’s Ball was on Raif Silverstone’s wall calendar. If he was planning to attend, she was too. The Ambassador was her alibi for late on a Friday night. They must be lovers. She is probably his date tonight.

  “Probably? I thought you had something more certain!”

  Rich powerful men love to flaunt their pretty trophy girlfriends, and what more perfect girlfriend for an aging Ambassador than a younger woman who does worthy charitable work?

  “How are we even supposed to get into the ball? Imagine the security! Rosalie stole my shift, and I resigned from my job with remember? I stuffed it into Smithers’s face. It’s not like I can go and beg him for it back.”

  You leave that up to me, she says smugly.

  I huff in annoyance, not liking the sound of this. “Why do we need a ball gown anyway? They never told me we needed special attire for this event. I can’t serve canapes dressed in a ball gown.”

  Not a ball gown, she says. I want that sexy little nude sequined body con dress.

  I know exactly the one she means. “I don’t want to wear that,” I hiss.

  Stop arguing, she snaps. Time’s wasting. She nudges at my mind, and before I know it I have given in and put the dress she wanted and a few other things, including makeup, into my satchel.

  I find Storm prowling outside my room, his fists stuffed into his pockets. He raises an eyebrow. “Want a lift to work?” he asks.

  I wouldn’t have minded a lift, but the little voice insists that it is best to get rid of him asap. I shake my head. “I’ll be fine. And it’s out of your way.”

  We walk down the stairs side-by-side in an awkward silence. I no longer know what to say to him. The little voice has made me feel we are on opposing sides, the last thing I wanted. Outside my building, he surprises me by giving me a hug. It is warm and delicious and over far too quickly.

  “Promise to stay out of trouble?” he says to me.

  “I will if you will,” I say.

  He ruffles my hair affectionately. “I should have known better than to ask. You promise to see Beatrice and ask her for an appointment?”

  “I promise,” I say.

  He seems relieved.

  “Hey,” I say, stopping him as he turns away. I touch his black eye briefly. “I’m sorry about this.”

  “I’ve had worse.”

  He hops down the front steps and gets into his car and waves me goodbye before he drives off. I watch until he is gone. Then I flag down a cab, knowing I am spending my last reserves of money. I might as well. It’s all or nothing now.

  The cab drops me off outside the catering offices. I scan my employee pass at the entrance, but they have already deactivated it. I am unable to get in. I bang on the door until someone comes to let me in. To my relief it is Ben. He looks happy to see me.

  “Please can you let me in?” I tell him. “I need to beg Smithers for my job back.”

  “I thought I wouldn’t see you again,” he says a little sulkily.

  “Sorry, Ben. There’s been so much going on that I’ve had to deal with lately. I shouldn’t have left without saying goodbye.”

  He looks disappointed at this, and I realize my mistake.

  I slap him playfully on the arm. “Not forever-goodbye!”

  He laughs. He walks me to Smithers’s office door and wishes me good luck before leaving. I stand outside the closed door, feeling reluctant to knock. I really thought I would never have to see him again.

  You want me to do this part, says the little voice. Trust me.

  It takes a few moments of uncertainty before I give in to the fact that she is right. I’ll probably fail miserably. The very moment I decide that I should let her be in charge, it happens very quickly. I feel a change in my mind, as if she is slipping into the front seat, and I am being pushed into the back. She slips into my body as easily as if it is hers, which always feels slightly weird. Like going numb. Like being just an onlooker.

  I am freaking out a little already, even though I know I can take control back if I really want to. She might fight me sometimes, but I always win in the end.

  Yeah whatever, she says. Stop being so smug, and be glad you have me to help you out in times like this.

  She unbuttons the top three buttons of my shirt. She looks down and I can see far too much of my breasts and even a little of my bra on show.

  What are you doing? I hiss.

  Relax, she says. I’ve got this.

  She knocks, rat-a-tat-tat, loudly and confidently on Smithers’s door, and then without even waiting for a response, she turns the handle and strolls right in. Her hips are swaying and her arms swinging as if she hasn’t a care in the world.

  Inside the office, Smithers is at his desk, peering at something on his computer screen. Rosalie is beside him, her hand on his shoulder. She is leaning over him, her face pushed almost right up next to his. They both look up at me. I don’t know who is more surprised.

  “What are you doing here?” Rosalie demands.

  “I’m here to get my shift back,” says the little voice sweetly, batting her eyelashes at Rosalie.

  Rosalie sniggers at me and looks to Smithers to back her up. Smithers is still staring at me. His eyes are on my open buttons.

  “Eric!” she wheedles.

  “Rosalie, sweet pea,” the little voice says, with a smile pasted on my face. “Get out.”

  “What did you say to me?” Her voice is squeaky with outrage.

  “I’m not in the habit of repeating myself,” the little voice says. She stalks over to Rosalie, grabs her roughly by the arm and hustles her towards the door. Rosalie squeals in outrage, and pushes me away.

  “Tut tut,” says the little voice. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

  She grabs Rosalie’s ear and twists it. Rosalie screeches. The little voice doesn’t care. She presses my fingers tight as a clamp onto Rosalie’s tender earlobe and pulls her towards the doorway.

  Rosalie has no option but to follow, clinging to her earlobe and screeching in dismay. The little voice shoves Rosalie out of the office and slams the door shut. She locks it.

  She turns back towards Smithers. “Well, that was fun,” she says.

  “That was physical abuse of an employee,” he says.

  “I didn’t do it if you didn’t see it,” she says.

  Smithers is standing up now, hovering by his desk, as if uncertain what is going on. She prowls over to him, making my hips swing far more than I am comfortable with. I am beginning to be very glad that I am here at the back of my head, because if I had been in charge I would be turning and running. As it is I wish I could close my eyes so I didn’t have to see this.

  When she reaches him, she puts her hand on his shoulder and applies enough pressure to make him sit down in his chair with a thump. She perches at the edge of his desk and leans forward until my chest is thrusting towards him. She slides my hand slowly and sinuously down Smithers’s tie.

  “Eric,” she purrs. “I’ve been thinking it’s a shame you and I never really got to know each other.”

  Smithers is staring at me, his jaw slightly slack.

  “And I bet you’ve been thinking the same,” she says. She slides a finger along his jawline.

  “I knew it. I knew you liked me really,” he says.

  She giggles. “Oh goody. We’re on the same page. Isn’t is great that you didn’t really give my shift at the Ambassador’s Ball away, you naughty boy.” She taps the tip of his nose to emphasize each word.

  “I didn’t?” His eyebrow rises. He thinks he has the power and he is enjoying it.

  She opens my eyes wide and bats my eyel
ashes. “You didn’t. Because you don’t do what you don’t want to. Rosalie can complain all she likes, but she can’t make you change your mind. Right?”

  “Right,” he says. “If there’s something in it for me.”

  The little voice trails my finger in a wavy motion down Smithers’s chest. His eyes follow it. It makes me feel sick. I want to tell her that I never agreed to this, but I’d only be getting in my own way. She is doing for us what I can’t.