Be My Killer: A completely UNPUTDOWNABLE crime thriller with nail-biting mystery and suspense

by Richard Parker

  ‘You had your own conversation with him?’

  ‘We shot the breeze.’

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘I must have made a real impression because he said he’d rather talk to Denise’s killer.’ He smirked.

  ‘And why’s that so funny?’

  Griff considered his reply. ‘Because I’d been so looking forward to meeting him.’

  ‘Even though your stepsister may be dead because of him?’

  ‘I’ve told you; I don’t believe that.’

  ‘Why are you so sure?’

  ‘Suggestion doesn’t make you pull the trigger of a gun.’

  ‘What does then?’

  ‘Hatred,’ he said simply.

  Hazel pushed him. ‘Anybody hate your stepsister?’

  ‘Nobody… apparently.’

  ‘Apparently?’

  ‘Have you ever seen anyone murdered and their friends and family on TV saying they were cheap and vain?’ He shot the lens a waggish look.

  ‘You think there were people who hated her then?’

  ‘I didn’t really know her.’

  ‘But you said you were close.’

  He scowled.

  ‘Denise was an attractive girl. Did you have feelings for your stepsister? Maybe ones you shouldn’t?’ She anticipated Griff’s immediate denial.

  He was silent; his features momentarily withdrawn.

  She had no grounds for the suggestion but Hazel realised she’d hit a nerve. ‘Were you in love with her?’

  His face shifted, as if he’d made his mind up about something. ‘I wanted to fuck her if that’s what you mean.’ He seemed suddenly cavalier. ‘But I categorically didn’t love her.’

  ‘Why not?’ A different person was sitting opposite her. Had he been more guileful than she’d given him credit for?

  ‘Because one man from our side of the family was enough for her.’ His expectant expression waited for her to fill in the blank.

  ‘Your father?’ Hazel hadn’t envisaged the interview taking such a left turn.

  ‘It’s not rocket science: marrying a cougar with a hottie for a daughter. It’s why he had to leave and Denise had to rapidly find her nanny post. I ended up sharing my parents’ house with a pill popper.’

  ‘Are you still in touch with your father?’

  ‘Occasionally but it’s awkward talking to your dad when he’s soiled your sexual fantasies. It was golden with stepmother though. I kept busy for her, curating Denise’s online memorial.’

  Hazel believed she’d had the measure of Griff Needham. Now she wasn’t so sure. ‘And what was your motive for doing that?’

  ‘I certainly didn’t do it for Denise. When I started to get bombarded with all the sympathy online, I was making her give back. I used her, and I lied to all the people who got in touch to say what a terrible waste it was that such a beautiful person had been taken away. That’s when I tweeted @BeMyKiller. Said “wishing you a lethal injection” for the benefit of anyone who thought I was sad to see the bitch gone.’

  Hazel watched his resentment brimming over and knew he didn’t need further prompting.

  ‘She was a lie. I remember her coming out the shower singing and how I would always go straight in after. It smelt so fresh in there. My father had probably done her in the tub and in the bed he used to share with my mother. So I was happy to keep the memorial going. I was using her as currency.’

  ‘And you’re still doing it now. Posting furtive images of an involvement with us that wouldn’t exist without Denise.’

  ‘Without both of us,’ he said flatly.

  ‘So you think the two of you are inextricably connected now?’

  ‘Denise only tolerated me so I think she’d hate that.’

  ‘But that pleases you?’

  He nodded, tight-lipped. ‘Yeah. It feels like I’m violating her.’

  Hazel was chilled by his matter-of-factness. ‘And was that your specific sexual fantasy?’

  Griff’s contemplation of her didn’t change.

  ‘Did she deserve to die, Griff?’

  He chewed it over. ‘Funny thing is, before she did, I nearly tweeted as her to @BeMyKiller. I knew all her passwords. Logged into her Twitter account and was ready to drop her in there.’

  ‘But you didn’t?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘It was a moment of weakness.’

  ‘Understandable though; you had severe issues with her. Why was it weak?’

  ‘Because it wasn’t like me actually pulling the trigger.’

  Hazel leaned back in her swivel chair, unsure if she was still simply talking to an online opportunist. ‘You were in a different state when Denise was murdered.’

  ‘I was. But there was always going to be a bullet with her name on it. Maybe she just speeded up its arrival.’

  Hazel swallowed. ‘Anything else you want to tell me?’

  He put his hands in his lap. ‘No. But we’ve been talking a good while. I need a break.’

  94

  ‘Jesus, I need a power shower after that,’ Lucas whispered to Hazel as she watched Griff exit Neptune’s Party Zone.

  ‘He’s been playing the part of the bereaved stepbrother since her death.’

  ‘So why fess up today?’

  ‘Before that interview, I would have said it was because he’s an attention-seeker.’

  ‘And now?’

  ‘I’m changing my whole perception of him.’ Hazel rose from her swivel chair.

  ‘And what about this private meeting with Henrik?’

  ‘Makes me wonder if it was just that one occasion.’

  ‘You mean Griff might have visited Henrik at the pond? He’s just a kid.’

  ‘A kid who’s constructing a whole career out of his stepsister’s death. And, after that performance, he knows I’ll have no choice but to use the interview.’

  ‘Think he’s lying about his parents?’

  ‘I don’t think so. I’ll have to contact them. But neither have spoken publicly since Denise was killed.’

  ‘If it’s all true, they won’t want their private lives dissected on-screen.’

  ‘Griff hasn’t left them any choice. But I can at least give his parents the opportunity to dispute what he’s told us.’

  ‘He must really hate them.’

  Hazel couldn’t deny Griff’s casual animosity towards his family had more than unsettled her. ‘Enough to have Denise killed?’

  Lucas knitted his brows. ‘Stretching things a bit?’

  ‘Griff has an airtight alibi. He was with his stepmother at home the day Denise was shot. Doesn’t mean he wasn’t party to it though.’

  ‘The guy doesn’t have a job. Where would he get the money to hire a hitman?’

  Hazel’s gaze returned to Griff’s empty pink oyster chair. ‘If it was a hitman.’

  Weiss took off his headphones. He’d been listening to their conversation. ‘And where does that leave your lone tourist theory? Wasn’t proving that the reason we’re all here?’

  ‘I want to get him back in front of the camera as soon as he’s ready.’

  Her phone buzzed. A text from Keeler. She’d left messages for him and Rena since returning from the turkey farm. Hazel read it aloud: ‘“Rena laid low. Hope you survived without bagels”.’ She was furious. They both knew better. ‘We can manage without Sweeting and Rena.’

  ‘No associate producer. How will we ever survive?’

  She ignored Lucas’s sarcasm. ‘We can operate with a skeleton crew.’

  ‘We were a skeleton crew. Now we’re down to a wishbone.’

  Keeler texted again:

  Don’t worry. I’ll take care of her.

  95

  Griff Needham felt exhilarated, drew deeply from his e-cigarette and considered what his responses would be when the interview resumed. He’d enjoyed watching Hazel’s reaction as he’d told her about Denise and his father’s infidelity.

  There was no
going back. But his online existence was about to morph into something much more exciting. So many of the friends he’d been duping would recoil from him, but people exactly like Griff would quickly replace them – other pretenders, other catfish.

  But now he had nothing more to fabricate. Griff would be out in the open – a person orchestrating his own starring role who had finally gotten away from the reek of Denise’s corpse.

  A movement to his right caught his eye. Beyond the empty parking spaces at the edge of the forest, somebody was stealing past the gaps in the birch trunks. They halted, as if they’d become aware of his observation, and beckoned him.

  Griff turned back to the open entrance but the others were still in Neptune’s Party Zone. He took another toke on the cigarette and strolled over to the trees.

  96

  April counted backwards from twenty and opened her eyes. In the dim light she could see ants scuttling across the backs of her hands. The rotten bough was alive with them. But she couldn’t scream. The boots had moved away, and if she did she knew they’d come back.

  She silently flicked off the ants and clambered swiftly back down the tree, hitting her elbow and hissing out the pain as she descended.

  April paused at the lower branch and listened, her eardrums thumping as she strained for any signs of movement on the forest floor. No footsteps. Should she go now? Looking down to the mulchy leaves she told herself she could always climb back up.

  But once her feet touched the ground she was going to run all the way home. She felt tears building and starting to hurt her nose. April just wanted her parents now. A solid bubble of fear ached painfully in her chest.

  She held her breath and swung down from the lower branch, put the soles of her feet against the trunk and slid awkwardly down it. Now she was standing on them and quickly glanced around in all directions. Was anybody coming?

  Leaves hissed. The wind? April didn’t stay to find out. She pumped her legs and shot off down the path, watching her footing then looking up sharply to check the way ahead.

  A thud from behind her.

  April didn’t look back. She’d won races at the school sports day. They would never catch her if she kept on sprinting and didn’t stop.

  More thuds. Somebody was definitely after her.

  A squeak of panic escaped her lips but she ran faster. April didn’t care if she made herself sick.

  ‘Stop!’ It was a man’s voice.

  April grunted and prayed she wouldn’t slip.

  ‘Come back!’

  She didn’t know the voice. It had to be the grown-up.

  ‘I’m not going to hurt you!’

  April jumped a root sticking out of the mud.

  ‘Stop, or you’ll be in a heap of trouble!’

  Something tugged at her – the instinct to obey adults like she did at home and at school. It was difficult not to halt and respond, but April didn’t break her step.

  The footfalls got louder.

  ‘Wait!’ The voice was at her shoulder.

  April shrieked and tried to dodge to the left and away from the command, but then her view ahead was blocked. He’d put a sack over her face. She couldn’t see but kept running.

  Fingers tightened around her waist.

  She yelled again, and it was deafening inside the cloth.

  His weight was on top of her, and she was lying on her front. April could smell her own breath as she kicked her arms and legs and cried for help.

  ‘Lie still. Just lie still.’ His voice was being nice again now. ‘I’m not going to hurt you.’

  But April knew he was telling lies and that the stinking sack covering her was probably the one she’d seen inside the black sports bag.

  97

  Hazel scanned the empty parking zone.

  Lucas was lamely walking towards the ramp while Weiss was trotting along the border of the forest.

  ‘Griff!’ she called. Why would he have wandered off in the short time they’d taken a break? He’d only been outside a matter of minutes.

  ‘Griff!’ Weiss shouted randomly into the trees.

  Had she been too hard on him in the interview, and was this exactly why Henrik Fossen had fled? Or maybe this was more attention-seeking. Perhaps Griff was hiding in the undergrowth, watching them panic. Was he even in cahoots with Henrik? He’d told her the two of them had ‘shot the breeze’. But Hazel could feel alarm rapidly escalating. He was the third person to vanish, and they couldn’t even call him. Weiss had the phone she’d confiscated from him.

  ‘No sign!’ Lucas was at the top of the ramp squinting down and beyond it to the road into town. He headed over to Weiss.

  ‘Griff!’ Weiss barked before his ragged voice echoed back at them from the pond.

  Hazel cupped her hand around her mouth. ‘I’m going to search for him behind the burger place!’ She jerked her thumb in its direction.

  Lucas nodded, and Hazel observed them both duck through gaps in the birches. She made her way to the rear of the complex where the heaps of old kitchen equipment were dumped.

  98

  Rena’s progress had gradually lost momentum until she was resting for minutes at each trunk before lurching a few paces to the next. She was sure she’d been staggering in a straight line and had expected to find the edge of the forest by now.

  But she knew the energy expended trying to blank out the pain of her injuries meant she might not have focussed on heading along the path she’d thought. She was becoming delirious as well; had been hearing voices she was learning to ignore.

  Rena couldn’t swivel her neck, and her right ankle wouldn’t take weight for more than a second. She pushed herself off the tree she was leaning against and limped unsteadily to the one on her left, collapsing against it and quickly drawing breath to stem the pumping in her foot.

  She had to keep moving and tensed her muscles in readiness to stumble to another resting post. But dizziness suddenly canted the ground under her bare feet.

  Rena gripped the bark as she wrestled with unconsciousness and dug her nails hard into it so the pain kept her awake. Clinging tightly on, she had the sensation of being horizontal; the tree, the ground and gravity pinning her there so she could let go with her hands. She did and slid to her knees.

  Pulling herself upright was going to require strength she no longer had. She touched her swollen ankle and realised the bandage had unravelled and been left behind. Rena’s head got heavier until her chin was on her chest and her eyelids closed like a landslide.

  Conversation – but distinct and familiar this time. She turned to see which direction the sound was coming from.

  It was Lucas and Weiss. They were walking together, about fifty yards away. Behind them, through the branches, she could just catch a glimpse of Fun Central.

  Rena said both their names, but her lips scarcely moved.

  99

  ‘Griff!’ But Lucas suspected they were wasting their time.

  ‘Maybe we’re next.’ Weiss paused at the jetty and contemplated the polluted water. ‘We should leave this to the police and split.’

  Lucas joined him there. ‘What a fuck up.’

  ‘This or us?’

  Lucas didn’t immediately reply but lit a cigarette with his Zippo and exhaled.

  ‘I’m happy to bide my time while you work through your conflicted emotions, Lucas. But remember, yours aren’t the only ones at stake here.’

  Lucas took his second and third puffs and nodded. ‘I’m still turning it over in my head.’

  ‘Just be honest. But start with yourself. I know you’re scared. I was as well.’

  ‘But you were nineteen.’ He stamped his cigarette.

  ‘Think that was easier?’

  From his anxious expression Lucas realised Weiss needed the secrecy to end sooner than he’d implied. He squeezed his shoulder.

  Weiss touched Lucas’s hand but didn’t look up from the plastic bottles on the surface. ‘Sorry, I should be more patient.’ But it didn’t s
ound like an apology.

  Hazel retreated from the trees, hoping her painstaking footsteps wouldn’t give her presence away. She’d found nothing behind the burger joint and had followed Lucas and Weiss into the forest to help with the search.

  She emerged back into the parking zone, heard Weiss call Griff’s name again and released the breath she’d been holding.

  Hazel had to focus on finding Griff. Concentrate on just that.

  She gazed around but wasn’t seeing anything. Lucas and Weiss. There was nothing about their tactility that left her in any doubt.

  Just keep looking. Griff was the priority.

  Lucas and Weiss. Hazel rifled her memory for tell-tale signs.

  ‘Griff!’ She shouted in the direction of the main entrance. More for Lucas and Weiss. They couldn’t know she’d overheard them. ‘Griff!’ Hazel yelled it harder.

  She fumbled out her phone. Griff had disappeared in a matter of minutes. She had to call the police.

  100

  ‘Listen to me carefully,’ April’s captor said through the oily-smelling canvas. His voice was almost a whisper, and he was breathing fast. He’d been carrying her in the sack over his shoulder, so her body gently struck his spine with each step, but now he’d stopped. ‘I’m going to put you down but I want you to stay very still. Do you understand?’

  April nodded and wiped sweat from her face. She felt the ground against her behind again as he set her carefully on the leaves. They were still in the forest.

  ‘What’s your name?’

  She took her thumb from between her teeth. ‘April,’ she croaked.

  ‘Pretty name. April what?’

  ‘April Weeks.’

  ‘And where do you live?’

  She wasn’t going to tell him that.

  ‘Answer me.’

  ‘The Hollows.’

  ‘What number is your house?’