Two for Joy

by Louise Collins

  “Well it must have come from somewhere. I don’t hear you coming up with ideas.”

  “If I had an idea, a solid one, I wouldn’t be stupid enough to share it with you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Can’t have you messing it up.”

  “You wouldn’t take me with you?”

  “Hell, no.”

  “Fuck you, Romeo.”

  “Has anyone got out of here?”

  “Yeah, loads of people.”

  Romeo frowned. “How?”

  “They died.”

  “That’s a great help, thanks.”

  “All you’ve got to do to escape for good, is die.”

  “You’re in a cheerful mood.”

  “Well… I’ve not had my fix from Naughty Nicki.”

  Romeo grimaced. “Look, I’m sorry, they’ve banned my mail. That’ll make the next letter even more satisfying.”

  “You could’ve at least broke Paul’s nose, got him sent home sick for a week or so.”

  Romeo rolled his eyes. “It’s not easy headbutting someone when you’re off balance.”

  Will huffed.

  “Look, if I get a second chance at headbutting him, I won’t miss, how’s that sound?”

  “Good, but it still doesn’t get me a letter from Naughty Nicki.”

  Romeo pushed off from the bars. “Night, Will…”

  ****

  The lights outside the cell suddenly turned on. Romeo blinked to adjust. Will cursed, and groaned, and Romeo heard the murmur of all the other prisoners along the corridor.

  “What the hell is that about?” Will mumbled.

  Romeo leaned against his bars, trying to see out. “No idea.”

  He heard footsteps coming down the corridor. More than two sets. Romeo didn’t recognize the men that came up to his cell.

  “Back up, then put your arms through.”

  “Can I at least put some clothes on?”

  “Make it quick.”

  Romeo climbed into an orange jumpsuit, then backed up to the bars. The man snapped cuffs on him, then ordered him to walk forward. As soon as his cell was open, the two officers came inside and grabbed him.

  “What the hell is going on?”

  They didn’t answer, only tightened their grip on his forearms. It was too early for prisoners to blow him kisses, or flirt with him, but Justin still threatened to cave Romeo’s head in as they passed by.

  He was taken to the visiting room, shoved down on the chair, then left. He heard them lock his door, and all he could do was wait, and shoot puzzled looks at the camera in the ceiling.

  The door to the opposite room opened. The DI strolled into the room, then sat down in front of Romeo. The folder was triple the width it had been the last time he visited.

  “Has the Copycat Killer got their number two?”

  “No.”

  “Not yet.” Romeo said. “It’s still too soon.”

  “He won’t get that far. I’ve got officers searching your cell as we speak.”

  “They won’t find anything of interest.”

  Romeo looked expectantly at the door, waiting for Chad to reveal himself, but he didn’t come into the room. Instead, Gareth stepped inside, dragging a chair.

  Romeo saw the fading mark on his lip from where Chad had hit him. Gareth noticed, and prodded the faint line.

  “Don’t ever hit him again.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  Gareth dropped his hand down onto the table. “He hit me first.”

  “I don’t care. You touch him again…”

  “And you’ll what?”

  The DI unwound the string on the file, then slipped something out. He turned the small square over, then held it up to Romeo.

  “Is this you?”

  He stared at the picture. Him with a terrible haircut, grinning, with a magpie on his hand. He’d shown the picture to Chad in the farmhouse, revealing it to him had made him happy. If Romeo was honest with himself, he would’ve said sharing it with Chad made him happy, too.

  “Yes. That’s me.”

  The DI let out a slow breath, then slipped it back into the folder.

  “The photograph of you and the magpie was found at Chad’s address. Did you send it to him?”

  Romeo frowned. “No. The last place I saw the photograph was in the farmhouse. It was by the fire when you all came crashing in.”

  “The farmhouse was searched, items of interest were taken, but this photograph wasn’t documented, it wasn’t recorded. Chad took it. Why would he do that?”

  “Why not ask him?”

  “I’m asking you.”

  “Maybe he wanted a memento of our time together.”

  Gareth leaned back in his chair. “What’s the significance of the magpie?”

  “There is none, it’s just a magpie.”

  Gareth and the DI shared a look.

  “It wasn’t all we recovered from Chad’s address.”

  “Why have you been going through Chad’s things?”

  The DI ignored him and carried on. “The front pages of the Canster Times were pinned to his living room wall, and a mattress was on the floor.”

  Romeo’s heart pinched, and he swallowed hard. “And?”

  “It’s obsessive.” Gareth said. “Not normal behavior for someone captured by a serial killer. To recreate the living conditions.”

  “He misses me.”

  “I think he more than misses you. I think he’s turned into you.”

  “What?”

  “You fucked with Chad’s head and turned him into a monster.”

  “A monster? Chad’s not a monster.” He looked at the DI. “Wait… He’s not your copycat if that’s where this is going. Chad is still a good person.”

  The DI went to speak, but Gareth got there first.

  “No, not anymore.”

  “Gareth, I’m leading this investigation, understand?” the DI said.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Romeo grinned at Gareth. “Good boy.”

  “Swear to god if this barrier wasn’t here—”

  “I’d have laid you out for hitting Chad, and then I would’ve strangled you.”

  “With your hands connected to your ass, I don’t think so.”

  “Enough!” the DI said. “We’re here to talk about—”

  “The Copycat Killer, the one mimicking my crime. Very obviously not Chad.”

  “We found the picture of you and the magpie at Chad’s address.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything.”

  “He visits you every week.”

  “Am I not allowed visitors?”

  The DI gestured to the camera in the corner of the room. “We’ve had a specialist go over your visits.”

  “A specialist?”

  “Body language, lip reading. You send messages to each other. There’s an obsession there, and we know the killer is obsessed. The feather, the strangulation technique, the cigar is the same brand you used.”

  “Does he use their possessions?” Romeo asked.

  “No, the crime scenes are clean, suspiciously clean. Like someone who knows what the police look for, how to clean up.”

  “Someone like Chad.” Romeo laughed. “You can’t be serious. You know him.”

  “We knew him.” Gareth said. “Before you got into his head. Before you took him. Before you changed him.”

  The DI sighed. “Over a few weeks, we’ve noticed a difference in him, a frustration, an anger.”

  “No big surprise if you’re accusing him of being a serial killer.”

  “There’s a change in the murders, too, an increased anger.”

  “What do you mean?”

  The DI pressed his hand down on the folder on the table. “The first victim, found in the bedroom, strangulation, number five, just like yours.”

  “Yeah, a copycat—

  “At the second victim’s address, his two dogs were found dead in the living room.”

/>   “James had dogs. The killer went for the dogs…”

  “Yes.”

  “But the dogs weren’t reported on in my case.”

  “Exactly, that was inside knowledge.”

  “Could be a coincidence, the killer just wanting to get the dogs out of the way.”

  The DI flared his nostrils, then looked at Gareth.

  “What?” Romeo asked. “Tell me, what is it?”

  “Third victim. The TV was left on, paused on the same movie you left us. The same grinning face. That didn’t make the news either. Our department knew about the dogs, the film, but they weren’t made public.”

  “Stop.” Romeo said. “Just stop. Look. I’ll admit, I thought it could be Chad—”

  “Bet that excited you.” Gareth muttered.

  “It did, and it didn’t. I came to my senses, I looked into his big brown eyes, and knew it wasn’t him.”

  “That’s not a good enough defense.”

  “You really think Chad could strangle James? He’s double the size of him.”

  “Xylazine was found in the victim’s blood samples. There were other injures made prior to strangulation. Bruising to the abdomen, the legs, and then on the third victim, more bruising, lesions, broken ribs.”

  “He takes all his anger out on their helpless bodies before he kills them.” Gareth finished.

  “How the hell can you think this is Chad?”

  “Because he’s run. We went to talk to him tonight, and he’d taken off. Innocent people don’t run.”

  The door opened, a woman walked in, Romeo recognized her as one of the other detectives that had worked on his case.

  Kate.

  Concealer Kate Romeo had nicknamed her in his head.

  “You don’t seriously believe it’s Chad, too?”

  Kate pressed her lips in a hard line, then leaned down to whisper in the DI’s ear. He nodded, then turned to Gareth.

  “At least we know he can’t leave the country.”

  “Good, they’ve got his passport.” Gareth muttered.

  Romeo shot up from his chair, sending it flying. “Listen to me. It’s not him. Don’t turn on him like this.”

  “It’s your fault.” Gareth said. “If you hadn’t have taken him, if you hadn’t of changed him.”

  “But it’s not him.”

  “I thought this would make you happy. You manipulating someone good to become bad.”

  “No longer on different teams.” The DI said.

  “This … you can’t be serious.”

  “You send secret messages to each other. He had a picture of you and a magpie. He kept all the front pages. He sleeps on a mattress in his living room. He knew about the dogs.”

  “He’d never kill a dog!”

  “He won’t talk about what happened in the two months you had him. He visits you despite everyone telling him not to, and when I said someone should put you down, he attacked me.”

  “I could’ve killed him, but I didn’t want to—”

  “No, we saved him, and he repaid us by visiting you, then taking over from you.”

  “I let him go free. Don’t turn your back on him, not when he’s struggling, not when he needs you the most.”

  The DI stood up. “We need to get him into custody, then we’ll go from there. Thank you for your time.”

  “Enjoy the rest of it.” Gareth said, then followed Kate and the DI out the door.

  “You’re wrong about him!”

  Chapter Eleven

  Romeo stared at the bare wall by his bed. The Canster Times front pages were gone. They’d removed Chad’s face from his cell, taken him away.

  “Hey, what the hell was that about?” Will asked.

  “There’s a new countdown killer.”

  “What, really?”

  He started to pace, the tiny, unsatisfying few meters that were his cell, his cage.

  “And they’ve decided it’s Chad.”

  “Chad? As in the one you took, your Chad?”

  “Yes, my Chad.”

  “How the hell did they come to that conclusion?”

  Romeo exhaled heavily from his nose. “Because they don’t understand him. Because they’ve put a load of so-called evidence together to support he’s the killer. Because people are stupid, and they believe what they want to believe, hear what they want to hear, see what they want to see.”

  “Wait, they want him to be a killer?”

  “In their stupid little minds, it would explain his behavior. Like he told me, people fear what they don’t understand. They think they’ve solved the puzzle that is Chad. They don’t get it though. Chad’s supposed to have jagged edges, missing pieces, that’s how we fit together so perfectly, but they’ve took his broken parts, forced them together, and made a picture of a monster.”

  “Right…”

  “They’re wrong.”

  “Sorry, you’ve lost me.”

  “And now they’ve made him run, and he needs me,” Romeo stopped by his bars, tightening his hands around them. “But I can’t get out. I’m stuck in here, and I can’t do anything.”

  “Tell me about it, I was just thinking—”

  “Shut up, Will, your job’s to listen right now.”

  “Noted.”

  “But if the killer’s not Chad, and he never told anyone, then how does the copycat know about the magpie.”

  “What’s with you an magpies, huh?”

  Romeo frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “You and those dreams you have, shouting Chad’s name and rambling about magpies.”

  Romeo’s heart missed a beat. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

  “What?”

  “Will…”

  “Yes?”

  “Who have you told?”

  “Everyone knows about Chad—”

  “No. Who have you told about the magpies?”

  “No one.”

  Romeo pressed his face into the bars. “Force that one brain cell of yours to work and tell me.”

  “Well, I might have mentioned it once to Holly.”

  “Holly?” Romeo said, feeling suddenly breathless.

  “Yeah, I told you months ago, Ben, the rookie, took her on a tour of the crazies. She stopped at my cell and asked whether I could give her an insight on you, being your neighbor and all. She asked whether you did anything strange, and I said no, but you had nightmares, dreams about Chad, the farmhouse, and magpies.”

  “What did you say?”

  “Not a lot, just that the dreams tormented you, and have since you arrived.”

  Romeo backed away from the bars. “Holly Stevenson…”

  “So why do you dream of magpies?”

  “Night, Will.”

  ****

  Holly stepped into the room with a big smile on her face. Romeo didn’t match it, he glared until her smile fell and she averted her gaze. He’d spent two days in his cell thinking it over, running the idea of her as the killer through his head. Unlike with Chad, the thought didn’t evolve into a fantasy, it stayed as a nightmare.

  Holly couldn’t be the copycat, her manicured nails, her innocent smile, not to mention she was small. Romeo smirked, but looks could be deceiving, he was proof of that.

  Holly came closer, put her files on the table then sat down. “I was so relieved when you finally accepted my visit.”

  “Killing people feels good, doesn’t it?”

  Holly recoiled. “What?”

  “Them helpless, there to take your anger out on.”

  “I—”

  “To hit, to bludgeon, then wrap your hands around their necks and…”

  “Stop this.”

  He could see the repulsion in her eyes.

  “It feels good, like you’re untouchable, a god. The rush of it, it’s so intense, nothing else comes close to feeling someone die in your hands. I always knew it would feel good, it was what I was born to do—”

  “You weren’t born to kill.”

  “Yes, I w
as. Do you like what I did?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s immoral, twisted. You killed innocent people…”

  “So if they weren’t innocent you would’ve liked what I did.”

  “No!”

  Romeo kept searching, but he couldn’t see it in her eyes. Obsessed, lustful, possessive, but not a killer.

  Holly wasn’t the Copycat Killer.

  She started gathering her things.

  “Wait.” Romeo said.

  “I don’t want to talk to you when you’re like this.”

  “I just needed to be sure.”

  “Sure of what?”

  Romeo turned away. “That you’re not like me.”

  “In what way? A killer?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m a journalist, and a psychologist, not a murderer, nor am I someone who gets aroused at the idea of murder. I’m not a member of your twisted fan club.”

  “This whole time you’ve been quizzing me to find a reason rather than accepting I’m a monster and killing is what I was born to do.” He shook his head. “There’s no way it could be you.”

  “What isn’t me?”

  “Months ago, you spoke to Will in the cell next to me, and he told you I have nightmares.”

  “Yes, I remember. He said you call out about Chad, the farmhouse, and magpies.”

  “Did you write about magpies in your article?”

  “Why are you afraid of them?”

  “Answer me.”

  Holly licked her lips. “I mentioned your nightmares, and the significance of magpies.”

  “What significance? What do you mean?”

  “Why you’d dream of magpies, the meaning behind such dreams, and most articles said about them being negative, but there was one I found interesting. The magpie visits you to tell you that you need to speak up. Express your truth, and I thought that was very fitting for you. You get nightmares because you haven’t told your side of your story yet, your truth isn’t out, not until it’s published.”

  Romeo gawped, the air left his chest, he could hear his heart in his throat. “Wait… I told you about the dogs.”

  “Tristram Adams’s dogs?”

  “Yeah, and I told you about the movie I left on at number three’s, Georgie—I told you, the place I paused it, the smiling face. Did you write about it in your article?”

  “Yeah, they were exclusives, I’d be stupid not to.”

  Romeo leaned back in his chair. “Where’s the article?”