The Players
Page 5
Emily Curtis
Shit. Do you know what’s going on?
Johnny Ormo
Not a clue, but it’s clear it’s something big. Anyone know what’s happening?!?!?
Emily Curtis
Jack Anderson
I’ve just found this on the Peterborough Post website…
Police were called to the Echo Lounge nightclub in Peterborough following a disturbance. It’s believed there has been a fatality, less than twenty-four hours after a similar incident in another part of the city. The police are yet to comment. Were you involved? Get in touch here.
Emily Curtis
Anyone else think this is a little fucked up?
Johnny Ormo
Seriously fucked up…
Jack Anderson
You don’t think the two things are linked?
Johnny Ormo
It’s a bit of a weird coincidence.
Emily Curtis
Shit, I go to the Echo Lounge. I was there three nights ago.
Jack Anderson
My friend works there. I’ve messaged him, he has no idea what’s happened.
Marky Markson
The owner of the club isn’t British…
Emily Curtis
What’s your point, Marky?
Marky Markson
Nothing, just saying, wouldn’t want to offend a bunch of snowflakes.
Johnny Ormo
Prick.
Marky Markson
Fuck you. I’ll fuck you up like someone fucking up foreners. Pussy.
Johnny Ormo
Says the guy who hides behind the fake name, Marky.
Claire Turner
Foreigners*
Johnny Ormo
Emily Curtis
Is anyone else really worried? Why aren’t the police saying anything? I was at the Echo Lounge, only a few days ago. And the Chinese, it’s right near my house. It all feels so close to home.
Claire Turner
Hey. I know what you mean, Emily. Peterborough is small, and this thing is starting to feel really scary.
Chapter Ten
3.18 p.m.
I messaged Sam, eager for her to get home and keep me company, asking her to let me know what time she’d be back so I could whip up one of my world-famous carbonaras. I wanted us to have a good relaxing evening together. I needed to make amends for this morning.
After Sam left for work, I cleaned the house, hoovered, dusted, opened windows to let fresh air circulate, all as my way of saying sorry for how I have been recently. When the therapist’s office called to say there had been a cancellation, I confirmed a rescheduled appointment for 10 a.m. tomorrow. I didn’t want to go back but I’d said I would, for Sam. With nothing left to do until she got home, I settled on the sofa and put on the TV, and dozed until there was a knock on the front door, making me jump.
Jesus, Karen.
I expected it to be a courier, delivering something Sam had ordered, she probably told me she had bought something, I have a habit of forgetting the little things lately. As I opened the door, I was shocked at who had come to see me.
‘Howard.’
I hugged him and he hugged back.
‘Whoa – PDA,’ he joked.
‘Sorry, I’ve missed you.’
Howard waited for me to invite him in, as I had done a thousand times before, but I hesitated.
‘You gonna make me a cuppa?’ he asked, feeling uncertain by my reluctance.
‘Howard, I don’t think you coming in is a good idea.’
‘Yeah, I get it. So how are you?’ he asked.
‘You know.’
‘It will be over soon.’
‘We hope.’
‘It will. It’s a fucking joke.’
‘Does anyone know you’re here?’ I asked.
‘No,’ he replied, ‘thought it was for the best nobody did.’
‘Probably a good thing.’
‘It’s not a good thing. It’s bullshit, we all know you did nothing wrong.’
‘The system is the system, no point fighting it.’
‘Still, it’s wrong. They treat you like a criminal when all you were doing was your job. It’s fucking ridiculous.’
‘Well, I don’t exactly have the best track record for following the rules, they have to take that into account.’
‘But even with that, you were right. They shouldn’t have reprimanded you then, and they shouldn’t now. Sometimes being a copper is a fucking—’
‘Howard, have you come here to rant about me not being at work?’
‘No, sorry.’
‘Are you all right?’
He looked at me, opened his mouth like he was about to say something, and closed it again. ‘No. I’m not. Can I come in, please?’
There was something in the way he asked that told me I needed to say yes, despite knowing it was wrong. I showed him in, he closed the door behind him, then we both made our way to the kitchen where I fixed us a cuppa.
Taking it in his hands, Howard nodded his appreciation, and then pinched the bridge of his nose. Stress.
‘Howard?’
‘Something’s happening, and I can’t work out what. And you should be on the case. We’d all be in a better place with this if they hadn’t suspended you for doing your job.’
‘Howard, wanna climb down from your soapbox and fill me in? You say something’s happened, and you wanna tell me, so tell me.’ I smiled.
‘Yes, sorry.’ He blushed. ‘There was a murder last night.’
‘At a Chinese restaurant in Fletton.’
‘Yes! How do you know?’
‘I saw something online.’ I shrugged.
‘It’s fucked up, seriously fucked up. The murder victim was a guy called Timothy Smart. Forty-three. Married, two kids. Worked for an IT company in Hampton. One of those who minds his own business. No previous, not even as much as a parking ticket.’
‘How old are his kids?’
‘Thirteen and nine.’
‘Shit.’
‘It gets worse.’
‘Worse? How?’
‘The other person involved was Michelle Reed, thirty-seven, manager of the takeaway where it happened. Again, no previous.’
‘The Chinese takeaway manager killed a customer?’
‘Yep.’
‘Why?’
‘This is where it gets really fucked up. We don’t know why.’
‘How did she kill him?’
‘Honestly, if I didn’t see it, I’d not believe it. The shop was like a scene from Game of Thrones.’
I thought about what I saw when Rawlinson held the door open, and I glimpsed inside. ‘Did they fight?’
‘Yep. To the death.’
‘And we don’t know why?’
‘Nope.’
‘How is she, the woman?’
‘Alive, but pretty beaten up. She’s in Peterborough District Hospital right now.’
‘Has anyone spoken to her?’
‘Not yet. She had to have quite a bit of emergency surgery. Nearly lost a hand. She’s gonna pull through, but we aren’t allowed access to her until she’s been moved from the HDU.’
‘Jesus.’
‘Karen, that’s not all.’
‘Go on,’ I said, feeling my heart begin to pump harder. Howard did not scare easily, but right now, he looked terrified.
‘This morning a call came – there’s been another murder. The circumstances are far too similar to overlook.’
‘Who was involved?’
‘A nightclub owner, and one of his employees. Both no previous, no clear motive.’
‘Shit.’
‘Yeah, shit, and going by what I’ve been told, we’ll get nothing out of the survivor, at least not for a while.’
‘Who survived?’
‘The employee, the club’s PR manager.’
‘You think the two crimes are connected?’
‘I’m sure of it.’
Howard then told me ab
out the previous week, two people had each attacked a stranger in red, a third party making them do it. I couldn’t help but feel abandoned for not being included in this. But I pushed the discomfort down – I’d not been included for my own good.
‘So someone might have made the two murderers do what they did?’
Howard was solemn. ‘It’s only a hunch, but yes.’
‘Think it will happen again?’ I asked. Howard didn’t reply. ‘If they are connected by the same third person, things are moving fast. And you’re saying the only people who might know something and can shed any light on this are two women, both of them in the high dependency unit?’
‘Yep.’
‘You need answers.’
‘Yeah, we do.’
Howard looked at me, a question on his face, he was so easy to read.
I raised my upturned palms in a clear gesture. ‘No.’
‘Karen—’
‘No, Howard, I’m strictly not allowed to be involved in any investigations.’
‘Karen, Michelle is conscious and might be ready to talk but we can’t get to her right now.’
‘So wait.’
‘And let it happen again?’
‘You don’t know it will happen again.’
‘Two similar incidences in twenty-four hours… it shouts—’
‘I know what it shouts, Howard, but even if I wanted to, I can’t.’
‘Sorry. It’s just you have that way of finding out things, you know, and I’m desperate. I shouldn’t have asked.’
‘You didn’t.
‘You know what I mean.’
Simultaneously, we sipped our drinks.
‘I can’t wait until you’re back.’
‘Hopefully, if the IOPC—’
‘When –’ he interrupted – ‘when the IOPC state you did nothing wrong.’
‘Howard. Stop.’
‘Sorry,’ he replied before we fell into an uncomfortable silence. I felt awful that I couldn’t help. Howard rarely asked for anything. I hated I had to say no. But I had to think of Sam. I had to think of myself.
‘How is Jess?’ I said, changing the subject.
Howard’s face lit up. ‘She’s great. Doing really well at school. Keeps getting on the star chart thing they have.’
‘That’s lovely.’
‘Becca does a really good job raising her.’
‘You are both raising her.’
‘Yeah, but I only raise every other weekend and one night in the week. Becca is doing most of it. She’s a good mother.’
‘Are you two still on good terms?’
He smiled, a shy one out of the corner of his mouth.
‘Howard?’
‘We’ve been talking more recently.’
‘I see.’
‘Trying not to read into it too much, and we don’t want to get Jess’s hopes up.’
‘Well, I hope either way you two continue to talk. I always liked Becca.’
‘Yeah, she’s a good one.’
Howard’s phone rang and, apologising, he answered it. I moved away, not wanting to overhear the conversation and began to rinse out our cups. The phone call was short, and when it ended, I turned back to see that the colour had washed out of his face.
‘Howard?’
‘I gotta go,’ he said, unable to look me in the eye as he went to put on his shoes.
‘Howard, what’s happened?’
‘I…’ He couldn’t get his words out.
‘What?’
‘A video has been posted online.’
‘A video? Of what?’
He didn’t answer but nodded and left, the door banging shut behind him. Running to my phone, I went onto the internet but I couldn’t find anything; I didn’t know where or how to look. So I went to my Facebook. Scrolling down, a news article leapt out.
Video posted online of a murder in a Chinese restaurant
I clicked the link, but wasn’t ready for what I saw.
Chapter Eleven
5.31 p.m.
Somehow, as Sam and I ate dinner, I managed to disguise the state I was in. The video had shaken me to my core. The level of violence was hard to dismiss. Thankfully, Sam hadn’t seen, nor heard it. The video was posted just after school had finished, when she was doing detentions and marking, and she didn’t go online all that much anyway. Being a teacher and having Facebook wasn’t a good idea. Kids were naturally curious and invasive, and Sam learnt years ago it posed too much of a professional risk. She would see the video, soon enough, but as she told me about her crushing workload, I suspected she’d be buried under a pile of marking tonight and too busy to be browsing online. However, I had no doubt by morning she would know. It would be everywhere by then.
As we sat at the dinner table, I watched Sam greedily tuck into her steaming carbonara. My appetite was all but gone, but I made myself eat some. Each mouthful was hard to swallow, my stomach was tight, not wanting anything in it, and I knew if I tried to force it all down, I’d likely be sick. Sam told me about her day, shared funny things students had said, like reasons for not handing in homework or being late for school. I laughed with her. I hoped she couldn’t tell it was faked.
‘I swear, these kids don’t believe we were ever young,’ she said through a mouth full of tagliatelle.
‘Well, we are dinosaurs, I guess.’
‘Speak for yourself!’ she protested. ‘We’re not even forty-five.’
‘Remember when we thought forty-five was ancient.’
She laughed. ‘Well, the world has changed since then.’
‘Yeah, but not for the young. Anything over forty is still ancient.’
‘Oi,’ Sam protested, smiling at me. I offered back a smile that was as close to hers as I could manage. I needed to keep her talking, so she wouldn’t ask too much about my day: but also, I craved normality. I needed it, because the video was as far from normal as it got. I was happy Sam hadn’t seen it yet because if she had, we’d no doubt talk about it, or nothing at all.
‘Kids do funny things, don’t they?’ I said.
‘Tell me about it. I had one who was late for school today, said, and I quote, “Sorry I’m late, miss, I lost my hamster.”’
‘Lost a hamster?’
‘Yep. I knew full well he probably didn’t have a hamster. But I had to let it slide, it was so original.’
Sam fell into a comfortable silence as she ate. She cleared her plate, but I only managed about half. I tried my best to push away the video I had seen, tried and failed. The violence kept coming back, with each blink it was there, imprinted on the back of my eyelids.
‘Karen?’
I snapped my attention back to Sam. She looked concerned.
‘Are you all right?’
‘Sorry, yes, I’m OK. Sorry. Distracted.’
I blinked away the image of the woman holding a clawhammer above her head.
‘It’s OK if you want to talk about anything.’
‘No,’ I said too quickly. ‘No, it’s fine.’
‘You sure?’
‘Yep.’
Blink. The man stabbing her through the hand.
‘I’ve got another counselling session tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow? I thought your next slot was next week?’
‘They had a cancellation, asked if I wanted it.’
Blink. The woman sinking her teeth into his cheek.
‘Well, that’s great. Hopefully it will speed things up.’
‘Yeah, hopefully.’
‘Karen, look at me.’
Sam reached over and took my hand.
Blink. The man choking her.
‘They’ll come back and say you did nothing wrong, and when they do, you’ll be back to work, and this will all just fade away.’
‘I hope so.’
‘I promise.’
I smiled, and Sam reciprocated sympathetically. I should have told her there and then about the video, but I didn’t. Because despite how fucked up I was, I couldn
’t sit back and do nothing. Howard needed answers. I needed to help.
‘A few of the guys from work are going for a beer – asked if I wanted to come.’
Shit, Karen, what are you doing?
‘That’s great, are you sure it’s all right, with – you know?’
‘Howard isn’t there, he’s on shift, and it’s a big group. It will be fine.’
‘Good.’
‘You don’t mind?’
‘Why would I mind? I’ve got a ton of work to do anyway, it’d be good to get you out of my hair. I’m not used to you being at home so much.’ She smiled, her right cheek full of pasta she had stolen off my plate. ‘Need a lift?’
‘No, one of the guys said they’d pick me up at the end of the road,’ I lied, again.
After washing up I got ready, kissed Sam goodbye and told her not to wait up.
‘Have a good evening,’ she called.
‘I will, babe.’ The guilt I felt made it nearly impossible to smile. As I closed the door, the winter air cooled my cheeks which were flushed from lying to the person I loved.
Head down, I walked towards the bus stop. I almost stopped, I almost turned back and went home where I could climb into bed with Sam and watch Netflix and fall asleep as she stroked my hair. But I didn’t because every time I blinked, the video came to me. I knew Sam had no reason to doubt my plans for this evening, but I looked back anyway, just to make sure she wasn’t watching. I crossed the main road and waited for a city centre bus. When it arrived I took a corner seat in the back row, and watched the world go by, planning how I would get close enough to Michelle Reed to find out exactly what had happened.
Chapter Twelve
The Host
6.36 p.m.
Staring at his computer screen, he read the responses to his video in a thread on the Peterborough Free Discussion board. The YouTube account he originally posted on using a discreet Belarus VPN company had been closed down, but he’d assumed that would be the case. No matter, there were plenty more accounts he could choose from, plenty more ways to get his video out there without being detected. Before the account was blocked, hundreds of messages had been posted.
He read a few, most written in disbelief at what they were seeing, calling it a cheap-looking slasher movie, poorly edited, badly acted. The same was being conveyed on Facebook. People had posted screen grabs of the video, showing they had ‘proof’ the video was a deep fake. They said the moment Timothy Smart thrust the chisel into Michelle Reed’s hand was obvious, because she didn’t scream. They said the hammer crashing down on his shoulder was fake because of how damaged it was afterwards and that the moment he strangled her – nearly to death before she pulled the chisel out of her hand and stuck it in his face – was nothing more than a clever edit.