by Simon Clark
They didn’t have to search Kym’s room. They stood side by side at the foot of the neatly made bed.
Then Josanne turned to Fisher. ‘She’d not packed, then. All her stuff’s here. Money. Her purse. I’m not happy about this, Fisher. Where can she have gone?’
Confide in her, he thought, tell Josanne what really happened. But what if Kym breezes in after a long walk? Things were tense enough with their fledgling band. To confess an erotic liaison with Kym would do nothing to engender harmony.
Instead, Fisher shrugged. ‘OK, she’s not packed up and left.’
Josanne was grim-faced. ‘So much for Adam’s conclusions.’
‘In that case she’s either in the house – and there’s a lot of house – or she’s out in the grounds.’ He looked through the window. Thick fog pressed up close to the glass. ‘Whether that’s likely or not, I don’t know.’
‘Damn,’ Josanne hissed. With that she ran from the room.
Fisher followed her down the corridor back to the ballroom. From there came the sounds of choppy notes on an electric piano with Fabian singing lah-lah-lahs. He wasn’t wasting any more rehearsal time. Josanne didn’t stop running. She pelted through the doors.
When Fisher reached them she was calling out, ‘Stop … stop! Kym’s not in her room. All her money and clothes are there. She’s missing.’
Sterling and Marko exchanged glances. Clearly they were uneasy now. Fabian’s reaction was one of irritation. He slammed his hand down on the keyboard. Adam looked up from the guitar he was tuning. His expression was one of bemused innocence. He couldn’t figure out what the fuss was about. Fisher thought: Come down from your cloud, Adam, and walk amongst us regular mortals for a while.
When all Fabian did was stare at Josanne, her concern for Kym cranked into anger. ‘Fabian, don’t you see the problem? We can’t find Kym. No one’s seen her since midnight. This dump is in the middle of nowhere; she can hardly have strolled to the nearest café.’
‘Josanne. Take a dose of perspective. It’s only just midday. Kym’s off somewhere reading a book or admiring the countryside.’
‘Have you seen how thick the fog is? She might have got lost out there.’
‘Dear Lord, this is Yorkshire, not the upper reaches of the Zambezi. She’s hardly going to encounter head hunters or be devoured by crocodiles.’
‘I’m calling the police.’
‘How, sweetheart?’ Belle asked. ‘There’s no way you can get a signal on your cell phone. I’ve been trying for bloody hours.’
‘I’ll drive back to the ferry crossing. There’ll be a payphone, or I’ll ask at one of the houses in the village.’
Adam gave a languorous stretch. ‘Knowing Kym, she’ll have gone looking for magic mushrooms or tree bark. She’s into those kind of natural highs. When she comes back she’ll be off her head.’
‘No, I’m not buying that,’ Josanne said. ‘OK, she might have gone for a walk, but not for three hours in that fog.’
Fabian massaged his temples with his fingertips. ‘You know, guys, we should be rehearsing. The last thing we need are cops dancing all over the place in their ruddy great boots.’
Fisher chipped in, ‘I’m sure we don’t need to call the police.’
Josanne glared at him. ‘Fisher, I thought you were worried about her, too?’
‘Look,’ he said, ‘We just need to make a search of the place. I’m sure we’ll find her.’
Fabian shook his head in disbelief. ‘Why don’t we sit here and count to a hundred while you two go off and fucking hide yourselves? Why bother learning these songs when we can play stupid games all day?’
Belle walked forward. ‘Oh, you’ve got all your sexy keyboards, Fabian. You can stay here and play with yourself.’
Josanne appeared surprised. ‘You’re going to help?’
‘Of course I’ll help, sweetheart. You coming, Adam?’
He flashed his glittering smile. ‘Why not.’
‘Great, just great.’ Fabian glared as if he was the victim of a sadistic conspiracy.
Sterling set down his guitar on its stand. ‘Count me in.’
‘And me,’ Marko stepped out from behind his drum kit. The dog stood up, too, sensing people were on the move.
‘So that’s everyone going to play hide-and-seek.’ Fabian sighed.
Fisher became irritated by the guy’s attitude. ‘Kym might be hurt, Fabian. We can’t carry on here like nothing’s happened.’
‘All right, all right. Go find her. But I’ll time how long it takes, then we’ll add that time onto the rehearsal this afternoon.’
As if to remind them of the passage of hours the blind clock struck one from its lair. The chime echoed in the room as they filed out into the corridor.
CHAPTER 15
Oh, she’s dead all right. Dead as those rats on the spikes. Now he knelt on the concrete floor of the workshop to gaze up at the prize he’d offered up to The Tower. He’d elevated the car hoist to its maximum height. Also, he’d dragged away the table to the far the end of the building. Blood’s difficult to shift. It changes its nature from liquid, to congealing jelly, to a sticky tarry mass over the course of an hour. What he wouldn’t give for a high-pressure steam hose. He’d been compelled to rely on a brush, cloths and pure muscle power to scrub the floor clean. Now, even though the concrete hadn’t dried properly yet, more drops of blood patted down on the floor. Pitter, patter, pitter, patter. Each drop burst in a miniature explosion of red. He didn’t mind. This act will have bought him a reward, he was sure of it. His life would be better from now on. The pains had already left his face, while this morning he’d been able to sleep a full three hours without those nightmares of falling. At last, he lifted his eyes. When the spike had passed through the woman’s torso it had exited through her back without touching the spine. The point of the steel spike had bent over when it encountered the oak table. Now it resembled the barb of a fish hook. When he’d raised the hoist, the spike hadn’t retracted through the body. Instead, it carried the woman with it. She hung, suspended by the skewer that penetrated her stomach, six feet above the concrete. Her back arched, her head hung down so her upside down face pointed at the wall; the open eyes staring sightlessly. Her short dark hair had ruffled into points. Her legs bent at the knees so her feet dangled down, as did her arms; the fingers curled inward like claws. He didn’t know if this was post-mortem shrinkage of the muscles or if they stayed like that as she clenched her fists in agony. She was very pretty. He regretted there’d be no way to preserve her looks. Of course, she couldn’t stay here. When it was dark he’d hide the body. Best would be to drop it into the swamp. The lady vanishes … as simple as that.
A thin pain ran through his left eye. No, it wasn’t starting again so soon, was it? He’d given the house its best prize yet. Surely it could reward him with a least a few days free of pain? He pressed his palm to his eye with a cry. ‘What does it take to stop this hurting?’ Currents of agony ran up his back. He moved his hand from the eye to the back of his neck as pain invaded the muscle there. He glared at the woman hanging beneath the hoist, so consummately punctured, then he turned to cry to The Tower, ‘What is it? Isn’t she enough? Do you want another one?’
Instantly the pain dissolved into pools of numbness. He sighed as muscles that had tensed in response to the surge of agony relaxed.
The Tower had spoken.
‘So you do need another one. You can have them all. All I want, please … all I want, please, is that you take the pain away.’ For a moment he thought the house called to him. He heard a faint voice.
‘Hello … Hello … Kym?’
No, not the house. Strangers. Quickly he ran to the far end of the building where he’d left his boots. Without bothering with the laces he pushed his bare feet into them, then he opened the door, and stepped outside so he could lock it behind him. For a moment he stood beneath the dripping trees. The fog was so thick he couldn’t see the house. In fact even this cluster of World
War II service buildings that housed stores and the workshops were just muzzy shapes in the mist.
‘Hello … Kym?’ The fog robbed the voices of expression, too. The sound had a flattened quality.
Kym? So they were looking for the girl. That must be Kym in the workshop. Had to be. Knowing strangers were so close gave him an itchy feeling. He wanted to get back to his hut where he could lock himself in.
‘Kym? Shout if you can hear us?’ The voice came from the rise that led to The Tower. ‘Kym?’
He stood with his back to the garage door as he angled his head, trying to force his eyes to penetrate the mist. A jab of pain returned to his face to remind him what the house needed from him.
‘This time it’s a deal,’ he whispered. ‘It’s a contract. I’ll give you another one if you stop the pain.’
Ghosting from the distance, came the chime of the clock that was hidden in the centre of the house.
Yes.
The house had answered. He bit his lip. ‘We got a deal then. I’ll give you another. I want this to stop hurting. If you take the pain away I can be normal. I’ll be human again.’
‘Hello?’
He started at the closeness of the voice. Images whirled through his head of the dead woman sliding down from the metal spike to walk to the door where she murmured the greeting through its boards.
‘Hello. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.’
He turned to see a young woman with a striking golden-brown skin. ‘I didn’t see you there.’ He made it sound like an accusation.
‘My name’s Josanne. I’m staying up at the house.’
‘Oh?’
‘I didn’t realize there was someone else on the estate?’
‘I keep an eye on the grounds. If the ditches aren’t kept clear the swamp will take the rest of the gardens.’
‘That’s something I’d not taken into consideration, Mr—’
‘Cantley.’
‘Mr Cantley.’
‘No. Just Cantley.’
His blood turned hot in his veins. Excited, he thought, If I can stand close and get her to look away, she won’t know what hit her. I can offer her to the house. This one will be enough. I’ve got a deal with The Tower. One more gift then I’ll suffer no more pain. Keep her talking. Quick, she’s going … she’s going! His hand slipped into his coat pocket to find the wrench he’d used on the other woman.
The woman smiled. It was a wary one. The kind he took for granted now when a stranger talked to him. ‘I’d best get back to my friends,’ she said.
‘Kym. Shout back if you can hear us.’
He heard their calls but he couldn’t see them in the fog.
‘Any trouble, miss?’ he asked.
‘Nothing much. One of our friends has gone for a walk somewhere. I’m sure she’ll be back soon.’
‘Kym.’
‘Have you met her?’
‘Yes.’ So the dead woman was called Kym. He only knew her name because of the others shouting. But he was thinking quickly. ‘Yes. I saw her about an hour ago.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘She was walking down that way … through the trees.’
‘I don’t think it could have been Kym.’
‘Yes it was. I saw her like I’m seeing you now. She introduced herself just like you. Said she was staying here.’
The woman was interested. Still wary though. She glanced back in the direction of the house. No doubt she wanted her friends so she wouldn’t have to talk to the strange dishevelled man alone.
Christ knows, little Miss Bitch, how’d you look after you were born hurting, and grew up in agony every day of your fucking life. That’s real pain. A whole world of pain and you live in it. Shifting, eating, looking, sitting, walking, breathing, blinking – every single thing causes hurting. More pain in one minute of my life than ten years of yours. It gets where I only get respite if I make pain for something else. But me and The Tower have a deal now. I’m getting rid of this pain for good.
Cantley took a breath, mindful his words could easily become a gibber. ‘She walked down there after talking to me here in the yard. She had short dark hair and brown eyes. Very pretty. Like you, miss.’
‘Thanks.’ Again that wary smile. ‘I’ll fetch my friends.’
‘No …’
At this raising of his voice she shot him a startled look. He slowed the words so they didn’t spit from his mouth. ‘No … ah … I mean, I need to show you where she went. There’s paths all over the place here. If you don’t get the right one you could wind up lost. If you end up in the swamp it’ll be dangerous. Ah … a sad case last year. Really sad case. Ah … old man from up at The Tower wandered off into the swamp and drowned.’ He realized his words were running away from him.
‘If you could just show me which path she went down, then?’
‘Yes, miss. The one by the stream. If you come with me to the stile I can show you where it goes. Then you know you’re following the right one. It doesn’t take you into the swamp … you’ll be safe.’ Cantley’s fingers closed around the cold metal wrench in his pocket. He saw the woman didn’t relish the idea of being in his company for a moment longer; yet she needed to find her friend. He guessed she’d negotiated with herself, balancing dislike, even fear of him, with the need for information that would reunite her with Kym. Of course, little did she know …
As Cantley pointed the way, so she’d walk with him the few paces to where three different paths radiated from a stile, he could guess what she was thinking. OK. I’ll go with him just as far as the stile, find out which path Kym took, then leave with a perfunctory thank you.
As they crossed the yard his hand returned to his coat pocket. She deliberately kept her distance from him as they approached the stile. But he mentally rehearsed the words to make her turn away from him: Look through the trees, miss. Isn’t that your friend coming this way now? He’d practised the line a second time, and had begun to shape the words with his lips, when a blurring object raced into the yard. Instantly, there was a furious barking.
He flinched. ‘Blasted dog!’
It advanced toward him then braced itself with its front legs splayed so it could unleash a torrent of angry barks at him. The woman reacted with embarrassment.
‘I’m sorry about this.’
‘Dogs aren’t allowed to run loose here. You should keep it locked up!’
‘I didn’t know he was out.’
Sweating now, he backed away from the black dog. It barked in that vicious way that showed off its pointed teeth. He sensed the animal’s hatred of him. If it should attack him he’d kick the life out of it. God help him that’s what he’d do. He’d ram his boot into the dog’s mouth, break those sharp teeth!
‘No dogs allowed here,’ he shouted, while still backing away from it.
‘I’m sorry. He’s not normally like this.’ She bent over so she could grab the dog by the collar. Blood and Christ, it would be so easy now she wasn’t looking at him. He could strike her head with the wrench. If it wasn’t for the dog. Only sure as jiggery, if he lunged forward, the fucking thing would rip his hand off. He continued to back away, as the woman restrained the snarling beast. He’d reached the edge of the yard where a path ran down to the swamp. Still the animal barked, its eyes flashing.
‘You should keep it tied up! Do you hear?’
As he shouted, a man ran up.
The man said to the woman, ‘Josanne, are you all right?’
‘Fine. Jak’s decided to misbehave, though.’ She shushed the dog. Then she lifted her head. ‘Sir? Mr Cantley? Can you tell me which path my friend took this morning? Wait a minute, please. I won’t let the dog hurt you. Sir?’
But he hurried down to the swamp where he knew there was a path that would take him safely away through its muddy lagoons to a place where even the dog couldn’t reach him.
CHAPTER 16
Fisher said, ‘What do you make of Prince Charming? A real bundle of laughs, isn’
t he?’
Josanne shrugged. ‘He probably just doesn’t like dogs. Jak scared the crap out of him.’
‘Couldn’t have happened to a nicer human being.’ Fisher bent down to stroke the dog’s head. ‘Good work, Jak.’ The dog’s tail swished the grass.
‘Not so good, Fisher. Cantley told me that he talked to Kym this morning. He was about to show me which path she’d walked along.’
‘Uh, damn. Sorry, Josanne.’
‘Not your fault. But I’m worried about Kym now. The man told me that some of the paths run out through the marsh. Not only is it easy to get lost, it’s dangerous, too. Last year one of the residents from the house drowned.’
‘Hell. We’ve got to keep looking then.’
‘If Fabian would listen to me, I’d call in the police. These grounds go on for miles. There’s only seven of us to search.’
‘You think this guy Cantley would help?’
‘He could be useful. He’s some kind of groundsman. Although he seemed a bit’ – she bored her finger against her temple – ‘in the head to me.’
Then he might have lied about seeing Kym?’
‘He’s seen her all right. He could describe her.’
‘Do you know if Cantley lives here in the grounds?’
‘He didn’t say.’
‘Kym, hello … hello.’ That was Marko’s voice somewhere off in the mist.
‘This fog isn’t helping, either.’ Josanne rubbed her arm as the cold penetrated her clothing. ‘Kym could be standing twenty yards from us and we wouldn’t see her.’
She’d hear though, Fisher told himself. If she can’t, that means something bad’s happened to her, and the nearest hospital’s a long way away. He left the thought unvoiced. Josanne was deeply worried. Fabian’s entire strategy for rehearsing here appeared to be in danger of unraveling in a tragic way.
