Sweet Oblivion

by Rhiana Ramsey

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  DI Scott closed the file containing the crime scene photographs and returned it to his briefcase. He was travelling to Weybridge in Surrey to visit the victim’s widow and the train he was on was virtually empty, allowing him to glance through the photographs and case papers in his possession without fearing someone may catch a glimpse of them over his shoulder.

  He’d called Mrs Saunders, Janet, after the briefing that morning; he’d had to repeat himself several times to be sure she understood what he was saying, she sounded so distant. Eventually, she’d understood that he needed to speak to her in person about her husband and she had tearfully acquiesced to his request.

  This was not a meeting he was looking forward to. Robert had a wealth of experience in dealing with distraught families, he was used to fielding difficult questions and was a master at relaying tragic news in a euphemistic manner. Today though, he felt nervous and he didn’t much care for the feeling.

  He looked out the train window and watched the countryside whizz past. The sun was poking its nose through the clouds, the rain drops from the previous day and night sparkling with its touch, rendering the fields verdant and resplendent. As a city dweller, Robert didn’t often get to enjoy the country. He was saddened to think that today’s trip to the country was due to a gruesome murder. Such an horrific, gruesome murder.

  He looked at the seat opposite him. DC Tony Jessop’s head was tilted back against the headrest of his seat, his mouth slightly open as he snoozed. Robert wasn’t annoyed with him. None of the team had had much sleep and he didn’t begrudge the detective a few minutes shut eye. Almost as if he was aware of the scrutiny DC Jessop opened his eyes and shifted in his seat.

  ‘Sorry guv. Nodded off for a second there.’

  ‘It’s alright Tony. We’ll need to be on our game. We’re going to have to ask Mrs Saunders some pretty personal questions. I’d like you to lead this meeting. You’re young and less threatening than an old git like me.’

  Tony was in his mid-thirties and was known as something of a looker. Female suspects and witnesses alike loved him and he was very good at keeping a situation calm. He was also an excellent detective, which was why Robert had picked him for this job.

  ‘Ok, guv. Not a problem. Do you want to discuss a plan of action? What do you want me to leave out?’ Tony asked, not sure if he was happy or alarmed at being given the lead in such an important interview.

  ‘Just go with the flow. Obviously she doesn’t need to know about the genital mutilation, but we will need to ask her about the bondage side of it. We’ll need to ask her if she knows her husband may well practice bondage, if he’s having any affaires that she knows about and also if she knows of any clubs he may frequent.’ He sighed. ‘Nice bit of light general chit chat you know?’

  Tony breathed in, then exhaled sharply. ‘I’ll be honest Guv, I’m really not looking forward to this. I mean this murder is something else, isn’t it? Genital mutilation? It’s like something from a bad slasher movie,’ his voice trailed off.

  ‘I agree. Still, nothing’s ever easy in our job is it? You could always go and join traffic?’ Robert teased.

  Tony smirked at him. ‘And you could retire and join the slipper and pipe brigade. Not going to happen is it?’

  ‘Touché. Right come on. Get yourself together. We’re here.’

  Chapter VIII

  She lay on her stomach, staring at the little kitten. It just sat there, meowing, its big green eyes looking at her. She’d never seen anything quite so cute. Its fur was soft and spiky, its body was light brown, its little paws white, like someone had forgotten to colour them in, and its ears chocolate. They looked like funny shaped chocolate buttons, she thought, as if they’d melted and then been moulded into a pointy shape. She plucked the top of the kitten’s ears and it rolled over, paws raised in defence, its little legs moving as if it was running. She smiled at the kitten and gently stroked its head.

  ‘Little kitten, you’re so cute,’ she cooed, ‘I wouldn’t hurt you.’

  The animal continued to play scratch her hands, its paws wrapping around her hands and wrists, its firm, little body wriggling under her hands, teeth gnawing as it tried to nibble her. She giggled then gently scooped the animal up in her arms, carrying it away from the mat to the bed, even though he‘d told her not to move the cat. She crawled under the duvet, hugging the creature to her naked body, stroking it softly.

  ‘You’re going to be my friend and I shall call you Sunshine. My little sunshine kitty.’

  The kitten gently pawed at her under the quilt, and started to purr as it nuzzled into her chest. She felt the warmth of its fur against her skin and was comforted by the contact. Eventually, the pair fell asleep.

  Suddenly, she was awake, the kitten was screeching and the covers were wrenched off her. Immediately she started to cry and reached out towards the kitten as the man handled it roughly in his big, rough hands. ‘Don’t hurt Sunshine! Don’t hurt Sunshine!’ she wailed, pleadingly. ‘No! Give her to me!’

  The big rough hands slapped her hard across the face, raising her whole body of the bed. She saw flashes of white behind her eyes and a blackness swept over her briefly. She could hear Sunshine calling for her and she felt powerless. She started to scream hysterically ‘Sunshine, Sunshine!’ The hands hit her again, but still she screamed. It was as if she felt no pain. She just wanted to save Sunshine, wanted him to stop hurting the cute little kitten.

  She looked up just as the man threw the wretched creature at the wall, its legs moving desperately in the air as it tried to cling onto anything to prevent its flight. The kitten’s body connected with the concrete wall, a dull sound like a tennis ball being hit with a rounder’s bat, and slid to the floor. Sunshine wasn’t making any noise now, she wasn’t even moving. The girl cried, floods of tears pouring from her swollen eyes. ‘You’ve hurt Sunshine! You’ve hurt my kitten!’

  ‘Shut it bitch! Who said you could move that fucking thing from the mat? What were you doing with it in your bed, you stupid fucking creature?’ he demanded, his eyes wide and mad.

  She was sat up on the bed now, her arms around her legs which were curled up to her chest, rocking gently backwards and forwards.

  ‘Sunshine, Sunshine, Sunshine…’ she kept repeating as she rocked.

  The man stood looking at her, momentarily confused by her behaviour. Then he climbed onto the bed and pushed himself on top of her.

  ‘No, you’ve hurt Sunshine!’ she screamed at him, throwing herself onto her back and raising her arms and legs as Sunshine had done in defence. She kicked him, she scratched him, she bit him, she punched him.

  All she could feel was rage, a feeling she had never felt before. She continued to pummel him with her small fists and feet as he tried to subdue her.

  His face was scratched and blood was gently seeping from the wounds. She managed to clamp her teeth around his wrist, again drawing blood. She fought him like an animal. Eventually, he pinned her arms and legs to the bed, astounded at her reaction.

  ‘Oh you’re going to regret that you little bitch! You’ve made me bleed!’ he hit her several times in the face with his open hand.

  ‘You’re going to wish you’d never been born cunt!’ Using one hand he pinned her two hands above her head and with his other he undid his trousers. She knew what was coming next, but she didn’t care. She’d made him bleed and that felt good.

  Chapter IX

  DI Scott and DC Jessop sat on the leather couch opposite Mrs Saunders in the spotless living room, looking at each other over untouched tea, steaming on the table between them. At the train station they’d been met by two uniformed PCs from Surrey Police who had kindly offered to take them to the house after DC Jessop had called their police station earlier that morning.

  They had driven the detectives for fifteen minutes through beautiful Surrey countryside, passing grand houses partially obscured from the road by leafy trees, imperious ga
tes and high walls. Coffee houses, designer clothing shops and farm shops could be found in small clusters along the route, the clientele of each well-dressed and seemingly refined.

  It was a far cry from the scenes both detectives were used to in their neighbourhoods, where the streets were populated by groups of hooded youths, single mothers and unemployed males. This could have been an entirely different country, Tony thought to himself.

  The Saunders residence was equally grand to those espied earlier, a red Jaguar and a black BMW gleamed in the gravelled drive way, and a landscaped front garden screamed money. The high wooden front door had been opened by a tall, thin woman even before the police car had fully come to a stop, the poor cousin next to the two sports cars. Mrs Saunders had stood in the doorway in dark trousers and an emerald green blouse, her eyes downcast, her shoulders slightly hunched, the sign of a woman under strain.

  She had a beautiful face, arched eyebrows above impenetrable dark, brown eyes, a perfect bow on her top lip and high cheekbones. Her hair was long, black and glossy and her hands were impeccably manicured. Even the dark circles beneath her swollen, red-rimmed eyes did not detract from her beauty.

  She’d ushered the detectives in, the two PCs politely declining her offer for tea and heading back to the station; their job was to transport the detectives, not to get involved in the enquiry. They would return once the detectives had finished their interview with her.

  Sitting opposite Robert and Tony in a plush Chesterfield armchair, she appeared slumped, as if all the life force had been drained out of her. It was obvious she had been hit hard by the news of her husband’s murder.

  ‘My brother has taken the children out for a while. I didn’t want them here when you arrived. They don’t need any more upset to their routine. The school’s been very good, as have my staff. I won’t need to go back until I feel…’ she broke off as a sob caught in her throat.

  She raised a hand to her eyes and gently rubbed them, long, slender, bejewelled fingers dabbing at their corners.

  ‘I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to go back,’ she finished.

  Tony shifted forward on the sofa.

  ‘Mrs Saunders, you have had the most awful news. It will take you a long time to adjust and you may never fully get over your loss. However, you must know that we will do everything in our power to find who did this to your husband.’ DC Jessop’s voice was soft and deep, soothing even to Robert’s ear.

  She looked at him, a small, pitiful smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

  ‘I’m sure you will detective.’

  ‘Please, call me Tony.’

  ‘Tony. Do either of you want tea? I made it fresh a few minutes before you arrived.’

  Even in light of what had happened her respect for etiquette was forefront in her mind, a sign of remarkable strength and courage, Tony thought.

  ‘Thank you,’ they said in unison as she handed them a cup each.

  ‘Mrs Saunders…’ Tony began.

  ‘Janet. Mrs Saunders makes me sound so old.’

  ‘Janet, we’ve come down to see you today as we have a number of questions that we need to ask you. Some of these questions will be of a personal and very private nature. I want to assure you that these questions are not designed to pry but may provide us with important information that will assist this investigation. If at any point you feel uncomfortable with what I’m asking you, just let me know and we’ll have a breather, ok?’

  She nodded silently, head lowered, looking at the tea in her hands.

  ‘Also, you must be aware that there may be certain things about this enquiry that we are unable to tell you at this time, but it is not because we want to withhold anything from you; it’s just that it may hinder the investigation if you know it at this time, does that make sense?’ Tony asked, gently. Only a small lie. Really they just didn’t want to cause her any more unnecessary upset.

  She nodded again.

  ‘I may ask you some questions that were asked of you by the detectives when they visited you previously, and again I want you to understand that this is not designed to upset you, or make you feel that your answers on that occasion were inadequate. It is just to ensure that all bases are covered and we get the best possible information from you that we can.’

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘Janet, let’s start with your husband’s movements two days ago. Do you know what his plans were?’ Tony asked.

  ‘David didn’t tell me all his business. We are… we were two busy people with a lot going on in our lives. He said that he had a meeting in the evening with some company or other, I have forgotten the name, and that he wouldn’t be back until late, but he did intend to come home. Sometimes he would stay up in London you see, but he’d always call to let me know. He didn’t call me the other night though,’ she sniffed, reaching out for a tissue from the box on the table beside her chair.

  ‘Did it worry you that he hadn’t called?’ Tony asked.

  ‘Not really. I was in bed by eleven; it was probably around midnight that I turned out the light. I was a little annoyed I suppose but just assumed that he didn’t want to call in case he woke me. He was considerate like that. I figured that there’d be a text on my phone when I woke up, but there wasn’t.’

  ‘Did you try to call him?’

  ‘Yes but his phone went to answer phone.’

  ‘Can you remember what time that was?’

  ‘Probably around ten, ten thirty. And I called him in the morning a couple of times too, but again it rang out to voice mail.’

  ‘Can you remember if he told you anything else about his meeting?’ Tony prompted.

  ‘I’m pretty sure it was with an existing client. I wish I could remember the name of the company…’ Janet trailed off, searching her memory for the name.

  After a little while she continued, still unable to remember.

  ‘He also said that he would take the kids to school in the morning as he wouldn’t have to go back into work until the afternoon, if he went in at all. I own a beauty salon so I work my own hours and I had been looking forward to spending the morning with him, but as he wasn’t here, I went in to work after I’d dropped the children off.’

  Her voice trembled as she fought back another wave of tears.

  ‘How does David normally get to the station? I notice two cars out front,’ Tony asked.

  ‘Tim, he’s our handyman, chauffeur, gardener… you name it, Tim can do it. Tim takes David to the train station in the Jag and then comes back here, does what he has to do and then picks David up in the evening. When David’s late back, either I’ll pick him up if I’m home, or he’ll get a cab. He would have taken a cab the other night.’ That explained why both cars were in the drive, instead of one being parked at the station car park.

  ‘Does he take anything to work with him?’

  ‘His briefcase and usually a gym bag. He uses a gym near his office and also the one in town here. It depends on his mood which one he goes to, or if he goes at all,’ she replied, with a small smile.

  ‘Can you remember what he took with him when he left the other morning?’

  ‘No, but neither his briefcase nor gym bag are here, so I‘m guessing he took them with him. I haven’t checked in the car though. Is that really relevant?’

  Tony looked at Robert and Robert nodded almost imperceptibly back at him. ‘Your husband wasn’t robbed, Janet. The briefcase and the gym bag were still in the hotel room.’

  ‘Why did you ask me the question if you already knew what he had with him?’ she asked, perplexed. ‘And why can’t I have his stuff back?’

  ‘You can have his possessions back as soon as we are one hundred percent sure that they are not of any evidential value.’ Tony began, ‘The gym bag didn’t contain gym gear. It contained some other items, some suggesting that he actually anticipated staying in London that night,’ he said, feeling a slight tug in his guts as he knew the difficult part was coming.

  ‘What wa
s in it then?’ asked Janet, her voice taking on a slightly hard edge.

  ‘There was a clean shirt and tie, some paper work. There were toiletries in the bathroom too.’

  Janet looked at him, her face full of confusion.

  ‘No gym gear? So it was like an overnight bag? Why would he tell me he was coming back if he knew he wasn’t?’ she asked, her eyes watery, lips apart.

  ‘This is what we need to work out Janet. Is it possible that he didn’t‘t use a gym when he worked late in London? Maybe he went somewhere else?’ Tony asked gently, trying to tread around the subject.

  ‘Well yes, I guess, but why wouldn’t he tell me? And where exactly do you mean he might go… might have gone to?’ Janet was getting slightly annoyed now, her grief giving in to pique as she contemplated the prospect that she may have been lied to by her late husband.

  ‘Are you suggesting he was having an affair?’ she asked incredulously.

  ‘Was he?’ Tony asked.

  ‘No!’ she almost shouted at him. ‘My husband is dead and you’re accusing him of cheating on me!’

  ‘Janet, I don’t mean to upset you, but I need to ask you the question. The circumstances around your husband’s death,’ he inhaled, ‘they suggest he may have been engaging in a sex game when he was murdered,’ and exhaled. There, it was out now.

  He almost felt relieved until he saw the expression on Janet’s face. What little colour had been in her cheeks now drained from her face, making her look ashen. The dark circles suddenly stood out in stark contrast against her pale skin and the wounded look in her eyes made him hate himself and his job.