by Franklin, JJ
‘Fancy a drink or will you have to get back?’
‘No. That would be good.’ He hoped he hadn’t sounded too eager, for the thought of sitting across from Ben sharing a casual drink had been just one of his fantasies over the last few months. Now that it was all happening, he felt unready, out of control, yet he knew he must seize the opportunity.
Ben led the way to a cosy looking pub, The Brown Horse, just off the Parade. It didn’t look like the type of place he would take Mother. It was obvious Ben had been here before as he pointed out a small corner table set against the far wall where the lighting was low and comfortable.
‘There’s a space. Grab a seat, and I’ll get a round in? What’s your poison? Real ale?’
Clive nodded. He didn’t mind drinking Mother’s bath water just as long as he could sit here quietly with Ben, although he hadn’t the slightest idea what he wanted to say or even how to say it.
He made his way through the office workers reviving themselves before the drive home to the table Ben had pointed out, settling himself with his back to the wall to watch Ben as he waited at the bar. When Ben turned to flash him a smile, Clive felt something jerk in the region of his heart. Was this love? Love for someone else was alien to him. Could he allow such an unaccustomed feeling to enter his life? Clive had never thought of himself as gay, either, but maybe this strange exhilaration meant he was.
Feeling confused, he was still searching for topics of conversation when Ben returned with the drinks. Luckily, Ben, like most Americans, wasn’t so tongue tied, and as he responded he felt himself relax.
Ben placed the pints on the table while he put the jingle of change in his pocket. Clive quickly slid a bar mat under each glass and Ben laughed as he sat down opposite.
‘Obsessional.’ He shook his head sadly.
He realised how it looked and quickly covered his tracks. ‘Living with Mother, I’m afraid.’ Clive made sure that, after taking a large, nervous gulp of his drink, he replaced the glass firmly on the table, even if it did go against his instincts.
‘They sometimes have a group on here. A folksy, pop sort of mix.’
‘Are they any good?’ Clive was trying to sound like he understood the kind of event Ben was describing.
‘Not bad. The lead is a character, should have been a stand-up. He picks on someone in the crowd and, as long as it’s not you, it’s wild.’
He could see from Ben’s face that he enjoyed that sort of evening and knew he would be willing to endure all just to be with him. ‘So, when are they on again?’
‘Won’t be till next year now. They’ve gone on tour…Ireland I think.’ Ben downed the rest of his pint. ‘I’ll let you know, if you like?’
‘Yes, I’d like that,’ he said, surprised to find Ben’s glass already empty. ‘Another?’
‘Sure,’ Ben said
It was after that second pint that Clive began to enjoy himself. That was until a hen party of ten strong—the intended bride complete with tiara and fairy wings—claimed the table next to them.
The women were noisy, drunk, and fully expected the rest of the people in the bar to accept, without a complaint, their stupid behaviour and loudness. Clive could see that most of the male patrons had decided to grin and bear it, except one or two of the older men at the bar who finished their drinks and left. The women clientele were all smiles and one or two even began cooing about the coming marriage in a similar way to how Mother and Margaret cooed over Emily.
They tried to carry on with their conversation and ignore the party until one of them, the one with mousy blonde hair that reminded Clive of Lizzie’s before she had dyed it that ridiculous shade of red, staggered towards Ben and flung her arms around him dumping herself onto his lap, much to the great amusement of her friends.
One of the group called out, ‘you planning to be next then, Tassie?’
As she ran her fingers through Ben’s hair, Clive’s hands were hot with the desire to choke the life out of her. He could see that Ben was trying to be gracious and remained smiling but also that he was getting more and more embarrassed at the vulgar comments and suggestions from the other girls as they egged Tassie on. Tassie’s hand was now sliding up Ben’s inner thigh.
Unable to stand it any longer, he stood ready to leave. ‘Shall we get out of here?’
Ben seemed grateful for the interference, as it spurred him into action. As he jumped up to follow Clive, the slut slipped onto the floor where she sat in an ungraceful, ugly position with her legs wide open, laughing while her mates screamed with laughter amid their caterwauling.
As they reached the fresh air, Clive found that he was shaking with anger, devastated that his chance to get to know Ben lay in ruins, thanks to those women. Were females always going to ruin his life? He stood wondering if he was brave enough to suggest they adjourn to a different venue when Ben interrupted his thoughts.
‘Think I’ll head home. You?’
Clive tried to keep the bitter disappointment out of his voice. ‘Yes. There’s a programme I want to see.’
With a brief, ‘See you tomorrow then,’ Ben was gone, leaving Clive standing alone and oblivious to the people passing by and going over and over in his head every word that had been spoken between them. He found he couldn’t clutch onto any promise of real interest or desire from Ben.
Walking back to his car, his anger grew. Who knew what would have happened if those disgusting girls hadn’t taken over? Maybe he was being naive and it was nothing more than two colleagues meeting up for a drink after work. The fantasy and need were all on his side. Ben had probably been glad of a chance to escape. Clive’s Mother had already proven he was unlovable, so why would anyone else be willing to give it a try?
It wasn’t until he was driving home that he realised there was nothing to stop him allowing his hands the expression they were craving. He squeezed the steering wheel hard and felt the strength in his grip.
In Mr Argyle’s unarmed combat class, they had touched on the theory of killing silently and quickly, not that they were allowed to put the knowledge into practice, but Clive could still recall every detail. Plus, he knew he could further his education via the ever-helpful Internet.
He felt excited by the power he could have over life and death. However, if he gave in to his impulse to harm any of his family, he knew he would be an immediate suspect. Clive had seen too many TV programmes not to know that was how it worked. However, if he chose a stranger, he could remain completely unsuspected with no motive at all.
Clive began to see the possibilities and problems his plan entailed and realised that he would have to work out the details with great care if he wanted to succeed. It would be a shame to waste his time on a simple murder. He wanted everyone to understand his pain. If he were never to have love, then instead, he would have his revenge.
As he negotiated his way through the crowds of revellers setting out to get drunk, pictures began to form in his mind. Clive knew getting the right clothes would be essential and difficult. He needed to ensure nothing could be traced back to him.
With a flush of excitement, Clive realised that he was planning more than one murder. He would rival Jack the Ripper and become a celebrity in the newspaper headlines.
By the time he pulled into his driveway, he had made his basic plans and felt so cheered he was able to enter his invaded home and smile briefly on young Emily. She would never find out that her arrival in the world had become the catalyst for a chain of unsolved murders.
Margaret and Tom arrived soon afterwards and whisked their precious daughter away, together with all her clutter, and Clive found he could even join Mother in a bedtime cup of cocoa while all the time running over his plans.
Under Lisa’s expert attention, he had almost drifted off to sleep, so that when the expected scream came it startled him as well as Lisa. She gasped and left him to open the door. A male voice drifted in, his words belying the panic in his voice.
‘Everything is under control
. Please…please just carry on with your treatments.’
Lisa returned. ‘Probably someone trying it on. Some of them do, given half the chance. And young Katie seems to pick ‘em all.’
Clive murmured something in reply while forcing himself to remain calm. Once the police arrived, he would need all his wits about him.
CHAPTER 6
Heath Stone Manor had come on the market ten years ago following the death of old Mr Ronald Moor, the last of a long and unexceptional line. Matt had learnt the history of the Manor during his guide training and had been surprised to hear that it had been a resting place for Royalist troops during the Civil War.
The Manor became a conference centre for a few years until bought by a consortium of businessmen who poured in money to turn it into a prestigious health spa. It was the place to get fit, or at least, to be seen in.
Matt manoeuvred the sweeping drive, which meandered through the well-kept and attractive grounds. Coming out of the last bend, they faced the warm Cotswold stone building, standing firm and solid amidst the trees. Matt was glad to see that the refit had not altered the imposing front. He had warm memories of attending a police conference here when he had just made it into CID.
As a new young Detective Constable he was at the stage when anything was possible, believing, like a knight of old that he would rid the world of the corrupt and evil. Matt smiled at the memory and at how time and experience had taught him that the battle was on going and would last forever. All he could hope for was to make some difference to his own little area, to give his best, and to encourage others to do the same, like Granddad.
He had felt encouraged back then as older, wiser heads had taken him seriously, knowing that his idealistic streak would soon be tempered with the reality of day-to-day police work and limitations of what they could do.
There had been other encouragements at that conference, and Matt wondered if DC Jenny Hadden ever thought of those moonlit walks in the grounds and their brief but passionate coupling. He had heard down the grapevine that she also had made DI a year after him.
Matt pulled himself back to the present as he drew up at the front entrance. Two patrol cars were already there, and Matt nodded to the uniformed policeman now stationed at the entrance.
As he stepped into the cool interior, it was obvious that this was where the refit had taken over. From the shining marble floors and pillars to the bright airiness of Reception with its ceiling skylights, it was clear that the original building had been gutted. The only thing that remained was the magnificent seventeenth-century staircase that flowed gracefully down into the lobby on the left. Matt supposed it gave the guests a sense of class, of a timeless elegance. Plus, it allowed another few quid to be added to the cost of membership.
The manager came forward to introduce himself as Daniel Smith. He looked very young and nervous. Matt tried the calm authoritative approach, reassuring the poor man that everything was now in hand.
‘DI Turrell, Mr Smith. We’ll take care of everything now. Can you tell me who found the body?’
‘Katie…Miss Taylor. However, she is terribly upset, Inspector. The head receptionist is trying to calm her down.’
‘Right. We’ll leave Miss Taylor for now. If you would take me to the crime scene, Mr Smith.’
Mr Smith hesitated before pointing a feeble hand towards a green sign marked Treatment Rooms.
Matt helped Mr Smith overcome his initial reluctance to lead the way by placing a gentle, yet firm, hand under Mr Smith’s elbow while encouraging him to move in that direction with him.
The victim appeared completely relaxed but then Matt supposed she would. The soft lights and low mood music were set to enhance an escape from the stresses of the outside world. Except that maybe she was just a little too relaxed. The limp arm drooping over the side of the couch was too casual; the lips gaped in that unattractive way of a politician at question time.
Matt moved forward in a useless reflex action to check the carotid pulse. There was no doubt that she was dead, although at first glance there were no obvious marks, but he decided it would be best to leave Slim, the Police Surgeon, to his area of expertise in figuring out how she died.
Matt turned to usher the shocked manager out while calling for Sam.
Before he closed the door to preserve any evidence, Matt stood and tried to take in all the details. He looked at a young, pretty woman, even in death. Though it was obvious she was a woman, the bows in her hair, her pink party dress, and white ankle socks said she was a little girl. On her right side was one of those cloth dolls, and she looked as if she was cradling it. Across her lap lay a large yellow and orange lollipop.
Matt felt a shiver at the odd mix of images. It was almost as if they had the copper’s nightmare to deal with—a child murder. Except this was no innocent child but a young woman, he would guess around twenty-two and with everything to live for.
Sam arrived at his side, and Matt stood aside to let him see the body.
‘Bloody hell, Guv. That’s downright creepy.’
‘Yes.’ Matt shut the door firmly and signalled a uniformed PC to stand guard outside. ‘We need to get the team and Slim here fast. Let’s clear this corridor now.’
Fluff joined them. ‘There’s a small café, just off to the left at the end of this corridor, Guv.’
Trust Fluff to be one step ahead. ‘Good.’ Matt looked at the ashen-faced manager. ‘We will need somewhere to question the guests from this corridor. The café would be ideal.’
The manager, who seemed incapable of speech, nodded his consent. Matt knew it would be best to give the man something constructive to do. ‘I need you to make sure that the rest of the guests stay calm. It would be advisable to say there has been an incident, nothing more at this stage.’
Mr Smith nodded, already edging away, eager to get away from the scene of death.
Fluff referred to her notebook. ‘Checked on Katie, Guv. The deceased was her nine-thirty appointment. She’s still in a state. I’d say it’s best to leave her to have another cup of tea. Head receptionist is with her. She seems pretty sensible.’
‘Thanks, Fluff. Let’s get through this lot then—especially those who would have been waiting in the atrium for a nine-thirty appointment. They should have seen something.’
Matt helped Sam and Fluff usher the mixture of horrified yet curious guests and staff along the corridor and into the café, knocking at doors on the way to alert and move guests who were in the middle of various treatments. He thought grimly that if they came here for relaxation and escape from the worries of the world then a juggernaut had just crashed in on them.
As Matt followed the last of the guests and staff making their way to the café, he noticed that Fluff had started taking down the names of the mostly robed guests.
The café was a pleasant place, the wicker chairs with their bright autumn colours made vibrant in the light from the glass roof. The staff busied themselves to provide the startled guests with complimentary drinks from the health food bar. Matt wondered if carrot and orange juice would really help with the shock of finding that there was a body just a few feet away from where they had been enjoying their relaxing massage.
Putting on his most official voice, he took control. ‘Hello, everyone. My name is Detective Inspector Turrell, and this is Detective Sergeant Withers. Over there is Detective Constable Jane Meadows.’
He pointed to Fluff who was helping an elderly woman in a white robe. Too many white robes he thought—makes escape easy.
‘We will try to make this as quick and easy for you as possible. However, before you can leave this area, we do need to speak to each one of you briefly. There has been an incident in one of the rooms along this corridor.’ Matt indicated the long corridor to his right and noticed that Sam was already busy sealing it off with the crime scene tape.
‘We need to know where each one of you was at the time of the incident, and to make sure we have your personal details. Then you will be abl
e to return to your rooms or another part of the spa.’
Matt estimated there were at least twelve guests and several staff, which meant allowing about three minutes each, speed dating came to mind, to collect the vital information from each guest and highlight those who needed further investigation. He estimated around twenty minutes to clear this room. By then, Forensics and Slim should be well entrenched and the important information would start feeding in. Then maybe Katie would be able to string two words together.
The team were efficient and worked fast, calming and reassuring the guests as they recorded their names, addresses, and room numbers, while reminding them they were to stay in the health club until given permission to leave. Day guests were told they would be able to leave as soon as their addresses had been checked.
No one had noticed anything out of the ordinary, but given the mixture of staff uniforms, from white-suited therapists, blue-suited maintenance men, to red-topped serving staff, not to mention the white-robed guests, Matt guessed it would have been easy for the murderer to slip in unnoticed. Whether the murderer had slipped out again or remained within this innocuous group was another matter.
As the last of the staff and guests left the café, Matt checked with Sam and Fluff.
‘Well, all my lot seem innocent. Maybe too innocent,’ Matt sighed. He knew this wasn’t going to be easy.
‘Nothing to set off that famous quiver then, boss?’
‘No. How about you, Sam?’
‘Not much. One young lady…’
‘Oh, here we go,’ added Fluff
‘Hey, I can’t help that I drew the short straw can I?’ Sam appealed to Matt.
Matt ignored the usual bantering. ‘So what aroused your suspicions about this young lady?’
Fluff shook her head at the word aroused. Sam merely grinned at her and carried on.
‘Miss Tania Belcott gave me the wrong area code for where she said she lived. It’s probably nerves, but I’ve marked her down to see again.’
