ABEL'S REVENGE_A gripping serial killer thriller like no other

by Ross Greenwood

  ‘How’s your girlfriend, Olive?’

  I check to see if Charlie is listening, but he’s distracted by the foul damp thing he foolishly stuck in his mouth.

  ‘That’s kind of why I’m here. We’ve split up.’

  The bird of prey expression returns. ‘Oh, really?’

  ‘Yes, I need to get out of the house in a month, and they signed me off sick. I don’t think I’ll be going back to work.’

  ‘Good, good. Things will pan out.’

  ‘I need to leave that city. Have you seen the madness on the news?’

  ‘You know I don’t watch television. Where will you live? You wouldn’t want to come here.’

  ‘That’s why I’m visiting. I was thinking just that. Could I?’

  ‘You’d hate it here. I couldn’t cope with children tearing around either. Not at my age.’

  ‘The kids are going with Olivia. It’d be only me.’

  ‘If you had nowhere else to go, you could stay for a few days. A week at most. If you’re desperate.’

  This time, her phone rings. She picks it out of her handbag and walks out of the room.

  ‘Alice, darling. I’m glad you rang. Are you still on for tomorrow?’

  There’s a calendar on the wall covered in writing. I imagine the Queen has less engagements. ‘Come on, Charlie. Let’s go.’ I finish my tea and guide a now green-looking boy to the hall.

  She comes back having finished her call. ‘Are you off?’

  At that moment, Charlie nudges a tall thin table in the hall and a vase on it drunkenly wobbles. I’ve seen professional goalkeepers move slower than the speed she saves it.

  She opens the door for me as an open-topped classic car screeches to a halt outside. A silver-haired lothario waves from the driving seat. I hope he doesn’t get out and do stretches. I get a perfunctory kiss on the cheek from Granny and sit the boy in the booster seat of my car. We’re half way up the road when I recall she still hasn’t given me her phone number.

  I think of pulling over but there’s no point. I wouldn’t be surprised if my own mother wrong-numbered me. Staying there is out of the equation. I curse under my breath as one of my few options disappears in the rear mirror. Charlie pipes up from the backseat of the car.

  ‘Daddy. Did you say cluck?’

  Chapter 48

  Thomas, the neighbour of Judith the birdwatcher

  Thomas walks down the street feeling sicker than he has ever felt in his life. Last night he’d gone to meet his boyfriend, Larry, at the cinema as arranged. He stood in their usual spot and waited. His dignity went home after an hour and yet still he stayed. Larry’s phone was turned off, and Thomas received no messages in reply to his many.

  When Thomas eventually got home, he chain-smoked, and finally fell asleep at four. What did it mean? There was no chance Larry would blank him. They were in love. Thomas had never fallen so deeply, not even close. He sometimes felt like he should inhale him, or climb inside his body. That way, they could become one.

  The past few months were a blur. He had walked around in a daze, seeing shows he couldn’t remember and places he instantly forgot. The world and time had ceased to exist. He’d been in heaven, and he was positive Larry had, too. So, where was he? There could be a nasty explanation, and that was the man they all feared. What had Abel done with him?

  He knows he isn’t thinking rationally. It’s unlikely to be anything so dramatic as a serial killer, but his gut is telling him something bad has happened. He checks his phone again, wanting to shake it to get some answers out. The thought of going to the advertising office today is unappealing, yet he has no choice. He’s missed many days with a reluctance to vacate Larry’s bed.

  He needs this job though and invests the money he saves. The dream is a flat of his own, even though he understands they won’t let his mother live with him. Not now she has deteriorated so badly, but it would be a tranquil place for them to have. Sudden guilt makes him flinch as his conscience reminds him of his lack of recent visits. Thomas knows he’s been neglecting everyone and everything. He’ll go this afternoon. As soon as Larry is safe.

  The traffic is heavy outside the railway station and he stops to text their only mutual friend. It was she who introduced them that memorable night. Thomas’s face lights up as a snapshot of Larry and him slow-dancing to Bryan Ferry’s Slave to Love burns in his memory. The pair of them whispering the exact words to each other. Both changing the ‘her’ to ‘him’ and ‘woman’ to ‘man’ in perfect harmony. Choking exhaust smoke straightens him up and he hurries inside.

  He has five minutes to wait, so he strolls to the platform and takes a position at the far end hoping to get a seat. His mind now conjures up images of Larry bound and blindfolded in a chair, blood pouring from his ear. Abel smirking in the background. Thomas remembers watching Reservoir Dogs the previous weekend and grins at his stupidity.

  He misses the text received sound as they announce his train but feels the phone vibrate. He pulls it from his pocket with awkward fingers. The message is terrible.

  ‘Hi, Thomas. I didn’t know you and Larry split?’

  His bowels shrink in horror. A numb thumb stabs out a reply.

  ‘When did you see him?’

  He can hear the train’s rapid approach. She responds in seconds.

  ‘At the club yesterday. He was all over his ex and they left together early.’

  My God, he’s been a fool.

  The push in his back is almost gentle. Perhaps he wouldn’t have lost his balance if he’d not been so utterly distracted. Thomas has time to turn his head and see the look of surprise on the driver’s face before the edge of the train hits him under the chin.

  The massed ranks of commuters support the decapitated figure upright. Blood sprays in the air like a shaken-up can of Coke being released. Three more die in the stampede while the perpetrator slips away unnoticed.

  Chapter 49

  Olivia

  Saturday

  I’ve had a frustrating day. Someone let all of my tyres down overnight. My dad said he’d pump them back up before I rang the breakdown people as it was probably kids who did it. They seemed fine afterwards, so he was probably right, but it made me late for a big list of things. It wasn’t the first time something odd had happened to my car either. I keep finding my wing mirrors and windscreen wipers in strange positions, too. I’ve spent the day in a foul mood, and I can’t wait to have a few drinks.

  My mother follows me around the house when she wants to impose her will. It’s comical. I lock myself in the bathroom trying to escape the inevitable questioning. She is there when I come out. Skilled interrogators need to see their victims’ faces. The taxi won’t be here for another five minutes, so I might as well get it over with.

  ‘Olivia, are you going anywhere nice?’

  ‘No, Mother. Nothing special. Just a steak.’

  ‘Ooh, lovely. Is it with anyone I know?’

  ‘Rachel.’

  My voice is reedy and less than convincing. My mum has a history of seeing through even my quality lies.

  ‘You’re going to a lot of effort for her, dear.’

  ‘I don’t need a lecture, thank you.’

  ‘Please, Olivia. Stop for a minute and listen to what I have to say. Once I’ve said my piece, that will be finish of it, and I won’t bring it up ever again.’

  It’s amazing she can keep a straight face when she says that.

  ‘Okay, okay. I’m meeting a man. It’s nothing but a meal. He knows I leave soon. I want to feel like a woman for an evening, as opposed to a mother. I need to talk about art, or music. Anything but potty training and how expensive school uniforms are. One night as me isn’t too much to ask for.’

  ‘I understand relationships aren’t easy. Look who I’m married to. I really know what I’m talking about. This stage with young children is the hardest. You think it will go on forever, but things change. You get your life back. If you’ve quit already, you lose out on the best
part.’

  ‘Which bit is that?’

  ‘The looking back on shared experiences. Knowing it was tough, and you stuck at it. He’ll always be their father, you can’t replace him.’

  ‘I’m not trying to. It’s him that’s given up. Dan won’t change.’

  ‘The most important thing for the children is to be with their parents. In the same house. Even if you argue all the time. It’s important for them to see you having a row and resolving it afterwards. You’re the benchmark for their future relationships. Do you want them to think it’s okay to quit at the first sign of trouble?’

  ‘No. Although I’d hardly say eight years is the first sign of bother.’

  ‘Pish. Eight years is a speed bump on life’s journey. What have you told the children?’

  ‘I said Daddy wasn’t feeling well and needed time on his own to get better. They’re fine with it.’

  ‘Is that right? Then why did Grace ask me if you’d ever be a family again? Charlie piped up, and said, “Family. That’s Mummy, Daddy, Gracie-May, baby Charlie and baby Bailey”. They miss him.’

  ‘Nothing’s changed for years. I want to be happy.’

  ‘Well, you shouldn’t have had children.’

  I think Mum’s joking, even though she looks fervent. Incredibly, she believes what she’s saying. She’s not finished either.

  ‘Men are strange beings. They take a long time to grow up. Your dad was only twenty-five when we got together. Imagine what bollocks I’ve had to endure over the years. He used to be a scrapper, you know. Age mellows everybody.’

  She laughs but I can tell tears aren’t far away. My phone beeps, telling me the taxi is outside.

  ‘It’s too late.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, sweetie. It’s never too late. Until the male of the species realises what they have, and they might lose, they’re only boys. Most of these boys grow into men. Be there when yours does.’

  ‘I’ll think about it, okay?’

  ‘And remember, Olivia. I know you. You will have your head in the clouds by now and believe it’s all his fault. Is there anything different that you could have done? Have you been perfect? Is some of the blame to be laid at your feet?’

  She hugs me and closes the door.

  Brilliant. What a depressing start to the night.

  Chapter 50

  Olivia

  The restaurant is called ‘El Hornero’. I wonder if that’s Spanish for the horny one and is a portent of things to come. I Google it in the cab, and I’m disappointed to find it means ‘The Baker’. The driver is talking but there’s too much going on in my head for any of it to register. I smile and nod at him in the mirror, and hope he isn’t asking me if I wanted to go back to his place to see his sex swing.

  I have butterflies. It’s been a long while. For me at least. I often have them when I watch the children in a show or at sports day. I like how it feels, then and now. Despite my mum’s efforts, I will keep Dan out of my mind and have a good time. Tonight, I’ve got no kids, Dan included, to hog my energy. My parents sleep as though they’ve been tranquilised, so I don’t need to worry what time I get back.

  Mike is waiting outside the restaurant. He looks suitably keen. Almost eager. He scores points for that immediately. Whenever I meet Dan somewhere, he’s either late and leaves me hanging around, or he goes in and gets stuck into the beers. I’ve always had a thing for shoes as well. I think they represent a man’s attitude to personal grooming and cleanliness. Mike’s are shiny and immaculate. Most encouraging.

  He smells as good as he looks. Of course, he opens the door for me, and pulls my seat back when we reach our table. He rattles off rapid-fire Spanish at the waitress. She gives him a funny look and disappears.

  ‘Very impressive, unless she has no idea what you said.’

  ‘If she returns with next door’s dog, I won’t try again.’

  She returns with the sommelier.

  ‘Here you go, darlin’. I’m new and don’t speak Spanish.’

  She has the thickest Texan drawl I ever heard, and we burst into laughter.

  Mike asks if he may order for me. He visits here at least once a week and wants me to taste the best dishes. There is something arousing when a man flits between languages. He checks I eat certain food and drinks in English and then converses with the staff member in Spanish. The wine arrives, and it’s superb. I take a big glug and empty my mind of my responsibilities.

  ‘How long have you lived here for then, Mike?’

  ‘Three years now. I opened a dentist surgery. That’s what I do. I have a few dotted around. I get them started, and then when they’re established, search for another place to put one. It’s time to move on to the next, but this city feels like home. I love it so much that I’ve stayed longer than expected.’

  ‘What do you enjoy doing here?’

  ‘There’s loads to do. I’m never bored. I can wander around, seeing the sights, or get dressed up for the opera or theatre. I feel as though I’m at the centre of the world. To top everything off, I have a great neighbour, too.’

  He holds my gaze for longer than usual. My stomach gurgles in anticipation. For the food, or maybe for something else. Unless, I have wind, of course.

  ‘Same question to you. What are your passions?’

  I think for a moment and remember the lady about town I used to be.

  ‘I loved seeing concerts.’

  ‘What stopped you going?’

  ‘Well, the kids for one. They’re too young to leave on their own and so everything needs to be planned months in advance around work and babysitting. After a while you get lazy and don’t bother. Dan hates that sort of thing. He feels claustrophobic with the crowds.’

  ‘There are always great shows here. We can use my friend’s box for free. We should go. You needn’t concern yourself with Dan’s lack of enthusiasm anymore. I’ve seen him have the kids, so do it then. That’s one of the benefits of splitting up. While your ex has the children, you finally get time to yourself.’

  I dislike him dismissing Dan. In fact, I hate thinking about Dan in the past tense, but he’s right. Dan wouldn’t do anything like that. He’d never bring me to this kind of place. Or if he did, he’d moan about how expensive it was.

  We share smoked ham and mozzarella for starters, followed by wondrous ceviche. When my steak arrives, I expect the table to whimper under the burden. It’s cooked to perfection. It almost wilts when my knife approaches.

  ‘I love it when the blood oozes out.’

  ‘It's not really blood, per se, by the way. It's a red liquid made from water and myoglobin which is an iron and oxygen binding protein contained in muscle tissue.’

  He’s so clever and interesting. And cultured. And handsome. I’m so drunk. We’ve had a different wine with each course so far. They’ve matched the food so well, I might as well have been drinking pop. We chat effortlessly over our mains, and I smile as I realise I have no idea what the time is.

  ‘Everything okay?’

  ‘Perfect, thank you. I’m just nipping to the ladies’.’

  ‘No problem. I’ll order dessert if you still have room.’

  ‘There’s always space for ice cream.’

  ‘You’re in luck. They do great sorbet.’

  The toilets are immaculate. It’s a shame ours were never this clean. I sit on the seat and take deep breaths. Now is the time to decide, before I’m steaming, how far I should go with Mike. I’m not naïve. He’s a man, and will go all the way. I shouldn’t. What kind of yoyo-knickered slut-bag gives out on the first date? Mind you, he is extremely charming. I bet he’d be an attentive lover.

  This is how I imagined life to be. Trying new restaurants and immersing myself in the culture. Instead, I’m submerged in the washing-up. Or worse, in Charlie’s underwear. Tonight, I am brave and modern. I should be able to enjoy nights like these. What to do about later though? I decide I want kissing with passion again. It feels good to be desired.

  My tr
eacherous mind brings up the image of that young girl leaving our house. The look she gave Dan told of dirty times. With that vision forefront, my choice becomes simple.

  Chapter 51

  Dan

  Now I don’t see Olivia all the time, many things remind me of her. Earlier, I glanced up from a newspaper to share some madness, only to remember I was alone. The rooms in the house suggest I’ve just missed her when I step into them. Sleep eludes me because my senses are alert. Smells and sounds, real or imagined, open my eyes.

  I miss seeing the kids every day. Which is weird because they often did my head in when they were a permanent feature. I am a different person now I don’t work at that awful place. There is an undercurrent of anger that Olivia has given up on us, but I’m becoming normal again. Well, as normal as I ever was. Still, it will be nice to see hot Charlotte again.

  I arrive at Ian’s flat and ring the buzzer. He only lives around the corner from the bar where we’re meeting. He has the top floor penthouse which his boss owns and lets him have for nothing. How rich can they be to make gestures like that? Would I be happier here if I could look down on everything and everyone? It’s a chilly night, and the git takes his time to answer. A squall of rain blasts me through the door when I hear it click.

  I never see anyone else here, yet there are fifty flats. How strange. Ian says investors buy them and don’t rent them out, keeping them immaculate when sold again. They’re so rich, they ignore rental income to save themselves the hassle. It’s as though he lives in a few rooms in an empty castle.

  ‘Come in, mate. Ready for a big one?’

  ‘Not particularly. Why the hell are we meeting at ten? That’s the time I suggest a whisky for the road.’