Urge to Kill (1)

by Franklin, JJ

  But catching this murderer before he could kill again must take priority. He wasn’t about to risk someone’s life for his own selfish ends. It was a balancing act he—and Eppie—would have to learn to deal with.

  He woke early, slipping out of bed without waking her. This should have been their first Saturday at home together. Matt had been looking forward to taking Eppie places and showing off his guiding knowledge. But there would be other weekends and, right now, he couldn’t cope with sorting out the complex emotions between them. She would probably be going to work anyway.

  Reaching the office, he consoled himself with a call to Eppie’s mobile. When it went to voice mail, he was disappointed. He left a short message simply stating that he wasn’t sure what time he would get home and that she should eat without him. The ‘Miss you’ at the end he substituted for all he really wanted to say.

  With so much information coming in, all needing to be assessed for possible follow-up action, Matt’s attention was fully occupied all day. The pattern of the day had echoed the previous one with reports and information piling in. People like Wendy dealt with much of the information, finally coming to Matt when a further decision had to be made.

  It was only when Sam plonked the remaining half of a sandwich pack in front of him that he realised the day had sped past.

  Through a full mouth Sam mumbled, ‘You’re gonna need that if you intend to stay all night, Guv. But I warn you, you’ll be in deep trouble with the Missus.’

  Matt stretched and looked at his watch. ‘Didn’t realise that was the time. Thanks, Sam. You finish that.’ He pushed the unappetising carton back across his desk. ‘Eppie might have saved me something.’

  It was late afternoon, so Eppie would be home by now and this might be a good time for them to talk.

  He was surprised as he entered the flat that there was no inviting smell of cooking. When he had asked Eppie to marry him, he didn’t know or care if Eppie could cook or not. But the few meals she had prepared had been delicious, and he had begun to look forward to them.

  Maybe she was still cross with him. The kitchen was tidy and silent; in fact, the whole flat seemed still. Had he pushed her too far already? With an urgent need to find her, he crossed the living room in a few strides.

  She was sitting on the floor of the bedroom with the shoebox, the contents spilled out in front of her and Jo’s latest card in her hands. She hadn’t heard him come in but when she looked up he saw the pain in her eyes.

  ‘I’m sorry, I was trying to—’

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’ He knelt in front of her, taking the card out of her hands to let it drop carelessly on the floor, with the other useless mementoes.

  ‘I should have told you.’ He pulled her towards him holding her head in both hands while he wiped the tears from her eyes with his thumbs.

  ‘I just wanted some space.’

  ‘It will be all right.’ He had never seen this vulnerability in her before. His Eppie was strong, even feisty. His Eppie uncertain and upset made him want to protect her, hold her in his arms, and keep her from all hurt. He reached out to her.

  ‘I didn’t mean—’

  He shut her up by drawing her close and fastening his mouth on hers, a long and passionate kiss that released the emotions in both of them. Feeling her relax against his chest, Matt shifted his arms to lift her effortlessly onto the bed.

  Making love to Eppie had always been easy, but now there was a feeling of desperation—the only way to wipe away what had come between them, all the silly things didn’t matter. Everything would be all right if they could just get back to the basic expression of their love.

  Eppie murmured one word: ‘Work.’

  ‘Can wait,’ Matt whispered back, while nibbling her ear and undoing her blouse.

  Afterwards, it was easy to talk.

  ‘I wasn’t prying, just wanted to finish unpacking, find a home for my stuff.’

  ‘My beautiful wife shall have a whole wardrobe all to herself.’ Matt made to jump off the bed as if to see to it immediately. Eppie laughed and put her arms around his neck to stop him leaving. Seeing her smiling face, Matt kissed her again and sank back beside her.

  ‘At Aunt Sandra’s, there was no room for my things. Or for me really.’

  ‘I didn’t mean for it to be like this. I thought there would be time to sort it out together.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘This bloody case.’

  ‘It’s not your fault,’ Eppie assured him. ‘Just what you do.’

  ‘Eppie, I want more than anything for you, us, to be happy. To have a good life together.’

  ‘Hey, we will.’

  ‘If you had seen McRay. He pretends to hate all women, but it’s because he is hurting so much. He let the job take over.’

  ‘I won’t let that happen to you.’

  ‘Not easy. There are times when it has to.’

  ‘But it won’t always be this bad, will it?’

  As they lay in each other’s arms, he knew he would have to explain. ‘I should have told you about Jo.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Yes.’ Matt paused. ‘She, Jo, well, we were there for each other through some good and bad times. For me, when Granddad was suspended and after he died.’

  ‘Matt, you don’t have to.’

  ‘I need—want to, Eppie.’

  Memories of that time shadowed across his face. Eppie lay still and waited.

  ‘It sort of fizzled out. No great fireworks. Jo was becoming a doctor while I was making a hell of a mess being an Inspector.’

  ‘I don’t believe that.’

  ‘I thought I knew it all back then. Then…then after Gracie died, I realised I knew nothing.’

  ‘Gracie?’

  ‘She was sixteen. If I had locked up the right man, she would still be alive. But I was careless, in a hurry. Soon after that Jo stopped coming home.’

  ‘She blamed you?’

  ‘Not really. There was no room for that. I hated myself too much.’

  ‘You loved her?’

  Matt turned to look at her. ‘Yes. She was my first. But I’m damn glad she wasn’t my last.’

  CHAPTER 33

  The call came early and Matt was instantly awake, aware that it could only be bad news at this time in the morning. As he struggled to get out of the crumpled duvet, he hoped the call hadn’t woken Eppie. He took the call in the kitchen. Matt had feared that he was dealing with a killer who wouldn’t stop at one victim, and he took no pleasure in being proved right.

  Matt drove fast through the deserted streets with the blue light throwing back a thousand reflections from the windows of dark buildings and shops before passing on down the hill and past the brooding ruins of Kenilworth castle.

  Although he was trying to keep his mind on the horror of a second murder and all he needed to do, he found it slipping back to Eppie. Even though they were close again, neither of them had brought up the cause of their row. Matt still wanted to keep her safe.

  The news of this second murder at the health spa this morning helped to justify his stance, but he knew she was right—he couldn’t expect to protect her from all the evil in the world no matter how much he wanted to.

  He switched off the blue light as he turned into the driveway of the health spa. No sense in having the murder scene cluttered up with startled guests before it was necessary. Far better to let them sleep peacefully in their beds for a while longer, even though one of them might turn out to be the murderer.

  There was a peaceful stillness to the early autumn morning as the first rays of the sun slid across the damp grass. As a crime scene, Matt realised it was going to be a difficult one. The grass had already been flattened by just the vital and well-trained officers who were quietly going about their work.

  Slim, the police surgeon met him at the outer cordon with a sad shake of his head.

  ‘I’d say the same MO, Matt. Bloody, bloody waste.’ Slim shook his head and paused while Matt remembe
red that Slim had three daughters of his own and always keenly felt any case involving a young woman. ‘We’ve got a real problem on our hands now, haven’t we?’ Slim continued.

  There wasn’t really anything Matt could say, so he nodded and put a hand of condolence on the man’s shoulder. After putting on his forensic suit and signing in, Matt steeled himself to move towards where the officers were preparing to erect a tent over the body.

  No murder was ever pleasant to look at, yet Matt felt a sense of rage as he looked down at what could be a scene from some romantic old movie with the heroine gracefully reclining on a swing waiting for her prince to claim her. Except that there would be no prince for this young girl, and her clothing was more that of a child going off to a party. A party she would never reach.

  As Matt stood looking down at the pathetic sight, the rising sun dappled through the trees for a moment to highlight a lock of her hair to a soft ripe wheat colour. Matt looked quickly around to see if the arc lights were ready and motioned for the officer to turn them on.

  There was no mistaking it; this was young Sandi from Reception. The girl who was showing Eppie the ropes and had been so kind and happy. Matt suddenly felt sick at the thought of his Eppie coming so close to the mad bastard who could do this. It could have been her lying there. He had let her and Sandi down. Images of Gracie crossed his mind. However, berating himself wouldn’t help and with an effort, he pulled himself back to act as the professional he was.

  Knowing that the forensics team, under the highly capable Jason, were on the scene, Matt had a brief word with him to discuss the possible routes the murderer might have taken before leaving him the space and the peace to get on with his job. Jason’s team were the experts, and the crime scene was in their charge. Matt left them to it and walked towards Reception.

  Harold Foster, or Harry, as he insisted Matt call him was becoming anxious to see so many policemen arriving yet again at the club. Harry was the night porter who had been on duty from ten the previous night. He was an ex-military man and Matt guessed he would take his duties seriously, no flirting with the staff or guests while he was minding the shop.

  Matt was just about to ask him for the senior management’s telephone numbers when a bustling Mrs Trowbridge came through from the grounds. Despite wearing her dressing gown, hairnet, and slippers, she retained her air of grandeur, which reminded Matt so much of a hospital matron.

  ‘Perhaps you would like to explain what is going on, young man,’ she demanded as if she held Matt personally responsible.

  Matt wished that Fluff and Sam had arrived. There was nothing he could do but tell her the full truth and try to gain her utmost cooperation. Aside from having access to the official records and rosters, she was the type of person who would make it her duty to find out everything she could about her staff and could therefore be invaluable. Matt decided that it would be best to be blunt with her, but it was impossible to tell how someone would react to the news of a murder.

  ‘I need to have a word in private, Mrs Trowbridge.’ Matt led her away from the reception desk and Harry.

  Mrs Trowbridge took a moment to take in the seriousness in his face before replying. ‘Come to my office then.’

  Mrs Trowbridge seated herself behind the desk, and Matt had the feeling that she was using the desk as a prop to distance herself from what he was going to say. As soon as he was seated, she spoke abruptly. ‘It’s another one isn’t it?’

  Matt could see that she was mentally preparing herself for another murder, but he wondered how the shock of finding out that the victim was one of her own staff would hit her.

  He didn’t have the time to tread carefully, and he assessed that Mrs Trowbridge was made of stern stuff. ‘Yes,’ he said softly. He saw the pain in her eyes before he continued. ‘One of the staff. The reception staff.’ He watched and, for a moment, thought her face was about to crumble into tears before she pulled herself up.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘I think her name is Sandi. She had beautiful sandy-coloured hair.’

  Mrs Trowbridge stood and turned to look out of the window. ‘Oh my God.’

  Matt knew he would have to give her time to digest the information, but she surprised him when she turned towards him.

  ‘How can I help? What do you need from me?’ she asked in a strong, stern voice.

  In a short time, everything was under control. The manager was on his way in. Matt had the full name and address of Sandi Tomlinson who had lived at home and of her fiancé, Tom Graham, whom she had been planning to marry in six months.

  Fluff and Sam had both arrived, and Sam was interviewing Harry while Fluff was arranging with Mrs Trowbridge the best way to handle the in-house guests. It was decided that they should be kept away from the left side of the house, since it gave easy access to the murder scene. This meant that part of the dining room would be sectioned off, the café would be out of bounds, and the dedicated group of smokers would have a temporary shelter at the rear of the house, even if this meant upsetting the other guests.

  It was lucky that the guests took their pre-ordered breakfasts in their rooms and the first classes or treatments did not start until nine-thirty. Matt calculated that gave them at least three hours head start. There was no way that the news could be kept from the guests, but if the spa could run as normal, it would keep them busy at least until the team had a chance to question them. Day guests would be turned away at the end of the driveway and advised to ring before returning.

  Matt had just stopped to take a bite of the bacon sandwich that the excellent Mrs Trowbridge, still in her dressing gown, had rustled up for the team. The team had come in straight from their beds at the call so were very grateful. Not that Matt could taste a thing except the extremely drinkable coffee that was on offer. It was now eight-thirty, the guests would be awake, and the team was gearing up to question all of them. Fluff came up to him with a clipboard.

  ‘Guv?’ She sounded hesitant.

  Matt smiled inwardly at her use of the phrase most beloved of cop shows but one she insisted on using if the lower ranks were around, even though he had asked her not to.

  ‘Yes?’ he mumbled through the bacon sandwich.

  ‘Do you want to interview the receptionist who was on duty with Miss Tomlinson yesterday afternoon?’

  For a moment, Matt couldn’t understand why she was bothering him with such a question, until it struck him that Eppie had been on duty yesterday, Eppie, who was already thinking of Sandi as a friend. Eppie, who could have come face to face with her killer.

  Matt put down the half-finished bacon sandwich and wiped his mouth with the paper napkin, to give him time to think. He had to be the one to tell his wife that the girl she worked with yesterday had been brutally murdered; there was no way he could get out of that. Common sense then took over, and he knew it would be best if he left the formal interview to Fluff and Sam.

  ‘I’ll see her first, tell her about Sandi. Then it would be best if you and Sam took over.’

  Fluff nodded, pleased with his decision.

  ‘Let me know when she arrives.’

  ‘Will do.’

  As Fluff left, Matt put aside his half-finished sandwich and returned to the immediate problems.

  CHAPTER 34

  Clive made sure he was up early. This was easy considering that he was bursting with excitement following his success of the night before and the thought of Ben coming to lunch.

  Torn between needing Mother to be ready for Margaret at eleven and seeing what publicity his latest effort was bringing in, Clive decided to get Mother up and moving first.

  He thought again about how much easier it would be if she didn’t live with him. True, Clive enjoyed his power over her, although it didn’t begin to make up for her dismissal of him as an infant, but now it would be good if she would just die and be out of his way. He wondered briefly about helping the process along, but decided that it would draw attention to himself, and it would be best to leave it,
for the moment.

  Taking up her breakfast tray, he was dismayed to find that she wasn’t even stirring. Putting on a cheerful air, he pulled back the curtains and let the autumn sunlight flood into the room. Mother grunted and turned away. Clive stood looking at her hunched shoulder, fighting the desire to stride to the bed and pull her physically from it.

  ‘Good morning, Mother. It is going to be a lovely day for taking little Emily to feed the ducks.’ He watched as she emerged from the covers.

  ‘I’m tired,’ she grumbled sitting up. ‘I would never have gone out last night if I had known how late we would be.’

  Given she was home and in bed by ten-thirty, he didn’t feel the complaint was justified, but decided it was best not to argue with her. ‘It was later than I’d planned. Sorry about that, Mother.’

  She nodded and gave a grunt of agreement as he helped her ease out of the bed and carefully into the bedside chair. As soon as she had started on her breakfast, he made his way back to the kitchen, and too excited to pour himself another coffee, turned on the television.

  Clive was disappointed to find that BBC News was in the middle of highlighting all the upcoming sports fixtures. His fingers trembled as he flipped to Sky News. They too were in the middle of their sports section, although what sports had to do with a news programme he could never understand. Realising he would have to wait until the news headlines on the hour, he poured himself a bowl of muesli.

  Of course, it could be that his message hadn’t been discovered yet or that the news hounds hadn’t got wind of the event. He thought this was unlikely as he had placed her close to the smoker’s tent, and they were bound to be up early and heading straight out for the first puff.

  Then there it was, featured on the main news. The grave police superintendent stating that a young woman had been found murdered this morning. It was too early to say whether this murder was connected to one a few days ago, he continued. The flashbulbs highlighted his strong features as he turned, ignoring the barrage of questions about serial killers and police incompetence to move back into the safety of the station.