There was a knocking at the back of the flat, sounding as if it were coming from the back kitchen door.
Darrelle burst through the bedroom door, dressed in a t-shirt nightie and snuggle socks. ‘Did you hear the noise?’ she hissed.
‘Yes!’ Mr Cool jumped out of the bed and pulled on his jeans. ‘Stay here. I’ll check it out.’
I sat up in bed and pulled the quilt up to my chin. ‘Should we go with him?’
Darrelle edged on the bed beside me. ‘I’d rather not!’
Mr Cool returned and closed the bedroom door. ‘It was nothing, probably just the wind. Don’t think you’re sleeping in bed with us, it’s not big enough for three.’ He raised an eyebrow at Darrelle.
‘I’m not asking to!’ Darrelle laughed. ‘I was momentarily scared, I’m fine now.’
‘You’d want to join in,’ Mr Cool teased. ‘You wanted to before, remember? With Catherine. You fancied her rotten.’
‘He’s exaggerating.’ Darrelle made a face. ‘All I recall is Catherine was gorgeous. Yes, I fancied her but never wanted to join in. Not with you.’ She poked her tongue out at Mr Cool.
‘I only go for good looking women.’ Mr Cool winked at me.
‘Wasn’t Catherine the woman who dropped you like a hot potato?’ Darrelle asked, laughing.
‘I don’t need reminding, thank you very much. I like to remember the good times. Now I’m awake I’m thirsty. Water, anyone?’ Mr Cool slipped from the bed and opened the bedroom door.
Darrelle and I shook our heads. Light spilled from the hall and cast a slice of illumination across my face.
‘You’re blushing,’ Darrelle whispered as Mr Cool closed the door behind him. ‘He’s disappointed Catherine slipped away but that was over a decade ago, now he has you.’ She tiptoed from the room.
My eyelids were heavy by the time Mr Cool returned to the bed. As my body dropped into the semi-fall stage of sleep, Mr Dry’s lopsided smile floated into thought, further adding to the peculiar events of the evening.
08:30
Only having slept for a brief time, I woke up thinking it had to be night still as the bedroom was in shadows, until I realised the thick curtains were drawn. The pillows beside me were empty. The smell of bacon cooking in the kitchen teased my nostrils.
Why hadn’t Mr Dry contacted me since I’d spoken to his sister? I realised I had to get out of bed to check my phone before I started accusing Mr Dry of something else he wasn’t guilty of, considering I hadn’t checked the phone for quite some time.
Message received yesterday at 17.25:
“Do you now understand what I had been trying to tell you?”
Mr Dry had obviously spoken to his sister.
Message received yesterday at 18.11:
“Did you get my last message?”
I groaned. He must’ve thought I ignored him on purpose.
A third message received yesterday at 20.34:
“The choice has been made? Headteacher tosser it is then.”
Was it my fault I hadn’t read the messages? The blame should rest with him. He was the one who’d set the phone up. He should have picked a loud, persistent tone for the receiving of text messages. Honestly, how was I supposed to know I had a message if the phone remained silent?
Message received today at 06.55:
“Comfort is a bitch of a friend, the time is coming for you to meet your end.”
The last message didn’t have a number. How could anyone send an anonymous text message? Only two people had my new number.
I was re-reading the little message when my phone sprang into action with the ring of an old fashioned telephone. Nervously, I pressed the phone icon. ‘Hello?’ I whispered.
‘Did you receive my message?’
My throat suddenly felt dry. ‘Yes.’
‘Why the hell didn’t you answer?’ he demanded. ‘Don’t you ever check your phone?’
I huffed. ‘My last phone actually told me when I had a message. This one doesn’t.’
‘I set the tone,’ said Mr Dry.
‘No, you didn’t.’
Mr Dry sighed. ‘Fine, I messed up. Is that twat still there?’
I didn’t reply.
‘Planning on moving in, is he?’
‘Did you send a message this morning?’ I asked.
I moved to the curtains and drew them back, confused to why it was still dark outside. Strange, it should have been light.
Realisation dawned.
There was something stopping daylight from entering the bedroom. I didn’t hear Mr Dry’s response to my question.
‘Are you listening?’ Mr Dry’s voice sounded distant as my brain translated the image before me.
I froze, the phone inches from my ear. I wanted to scream but my jaw wouldn’t open. I didn’t feel the phone slip from my grasp, I couldn’t even lower my arm. All I could do was stare into the nightmarish curtain veiling the outside of the bedroom window. My frozen state ended abruptly as Darrelle entered the bedroom and the tray she was carrying crashed to the floor. Her screaming filled the room and brought Mr Cool running. I turned from the horror outside my window, the rushing of blood filling my ears.
‘It’s the rest of her,’ I said to them in a voice I didn’t even recognise as my own. ‘It’s Kelly.’
09:40
‘What am I doing in here?’ I opened my eyes to see the pink ceiling above Daughter’s bed.
Mr Cool peered down worriedly at me. ‘You fainted so I carried you in.’
I pulled up to a sitting position. I felt too large on Daughter’s bed. The fluffy wolf-toy stared accusingly at me from the pillow. ‘Where’s everyone else? My daughter!’ I cried. ‘She didn’t see, did she? She’ll have nightmares for the rest of her life and need therapy—’
‘She didn’t see,’ Mr Cool interrupted. ‘Darrelle is outside with your neighbour, which is where we should be. I was waiting for you to come to.’
I drew my knees to my chest and hugged them tight. The wolf-toy tumbled onto my lap, its nose down as if it were biting.
Mr Cool eased himself beside me, his legs hanging over the edge of the single bed. ‘The elderly woman from upstairs, Mrs Downs is it?’
I nodded.
‘Mrs Downs has taken the children across to the green. Don’t worry.’ Mr Cool interpreted my worried look. ‘They have a police escort. Mrs Downs’ niece lives across the road and she’s invited us there for coffee. The police have sealed off the rear garden. The body may be here for some time. This is now a crime scene so we have to leave.’ Mr Cool wrapped my coat around me, picked up my handbag, and guided me outside.
I shuddered. ‘What kind of an animal could do such a thing? Did you see her? Did see what that sick, twisted bastard had done to her?’ Hot tears scalded my cheeks. ‘She was ripped open!’
‘Ssshhh,’ soothed Mr Cool. ‘Try not to think about it. You’re safe.’
‘I’m not worrying about myself,’ I sobbed, crying. ‘I’m crying for her!’
‘For who?’ Mr Nice asked as we staggered onto the street outside and worked our way through the small throng of bystanders. ‘Darrelle told me something serious had happened but she couldn’t tell me in front of the children. They’ve found her, haven’t they?’
We edged away from the group of people. Darrelle hooked her arm through Mr Cool’s, her porcelain complexion now marble white.
‘Kelly’s body has been found,’ I said softly, clasping Mr Nice’s hand, tears streaming down my cheeks.
‘Where?’ he croaked.
I was crying so hard I couldn’t speak.
Mr Cool took over the conversion. ‘The killer left her body outside of Saze’s window.’
Mr Nice crumpled, appearing smaller than usual. ‘She’s really d-d-dead?’
‘The police are dealing with it,’ Mr Cool advised. ‘They’ll tell you more.’
Mr Nice turned his face towards me. ‘Did she s-s-suffer much?’
I couldn’t bring myself to descr
ibe the state Kelly’s body was in, I merely shook my head in an attempt to lessen his pain. He really didn’t need to know all the facts, did he?
Without another word Mr Nice flew back towards the building. We ran after him but he was too fast. The next thing we heard was an almighty roar from him as he somehow slipped through the mass of police officials, charged into my flat, and into my bedroom to be met by the hanging, disembowelled carcass of his estranged wife.
Darrelle and I shivered on the pavement as a round-faced woman broke free from the crowd. ‘I’m Mrs Downs’ niece, Janet.’ She pointed at a house over the road with a red door. ‘You’re more than welcome inside my house, it’s freezing out here.’
Janet’s house was warm and smelt of flowers. We stepped inside thankfully.
‘I’ll just pop to the shop for milk,’ said Janet. ‘Make yourselves comfortable.’ She gestured to the kitchen where she’d thoughtfully laid out mugs and a coffee jar.
‘There you go, old chap, you sit down here.’ Mr Cool guided Mr Nice onto one of the wooden chairs.
Darrelle peered in concern at Mr Nice. ‘Would it help you to talk?’
Mr Nice, his gaze fixed on nothing, shrugged. ‘A drink may help.’
‘We’ll have to wait for Janet,’ returned Mr Cool. ‘We can’t very well raid a stranger’s cupboard.’
‘He really killed her. I kept thinking she’d be okay, that it wasn’t her hand. What he did to her… the way he cut her up… like she was a… a… ch-ch-chicken!’ Mr Nice dropped his head into his hands and cried, huge wracking sobs shaking his entire body. ‘What am I going to tell my little girl?’ he wailed through his fingers. ‘It’ll be splashed across all of the papers. It’ll even be on the national news.’
‘We could look online,’ Mr Cool suggested. ‘If reports have reached the media, our local paper will be the first to let everyone know. I’ll check it on my phone. Shall we find somewhere more comfortable to sit? How about the lounge?’
10:55
One of the newspaper’s reporters had obviously been outside the flats and we hadn’t noticed. He or she had probably hid behind a tree or dangled from an overhead cable.
“EASTCOVE LOCAL EXCLUSIVE – BREAKING NEWS – SHOCK HORROR!
Eastcove Local can exclusively reveal another body has been found in connection with the Cut-throat Casanova serial murders. The identity of the victim is unknown. The body was reportedly discovered outside a bedroom window.
Who exactly is the latest victim? Keep checking this page. As soon as we know anything, OUR duty is to let YOU know! Eastcove Local: Your source for Local news.”
‘They’re vultures,’ Mr Nice spat after he finished dissecting the entry for the umpteenth time. ‘How do they know anything?’
‘They’re sensationalists,’ I replied. ‘They thrive on this sort of thing.’
‘It’s people like that,’ continued Mr Nice furiously. ‘Who encourage the sickos. The next thing we know it’ll be Saze they’re talking about because she’s been chopped into a million tiny pieces.’
‘Now hang on,’ interjected Mr Cool smoothly from his position in a comfy armchair. ‘I think that’s a bit rash.’
‘Rash?’ boomed a voice from the doorway. ‘Bloody preposterous more like.’
I rubbed my tender eyes. ‘What are you doing here? How did you know where I was?’
Mr Dry arched a dark eyebrow. ‘I was concerned when you dropped the phone half way through our conversation. As to how I knew, well there’s quite a crowd outside your building and luckily for me they’re rather nosey.’
Mr Cool rubbed his chin. ‘You were speaking earlier were you?’
I rose hastily to my feet. ‘Can I talk to you in the kitchen?’ I asked Mr Dry.
Mr Dry nodded, cast a thunderous look at Mr Cool and then followed me into Janet’s kitchen.
‘Well?’ Mr Dry demanded once we were alone. ‘What’s with the misfit entourage?’
‘Kelly’s been found. She’s dead.’ I held back tears.
Mr Dry studied me from his vantage height, eyebrows knitted together. ‘The body was at yours.’
I gawped. ‘Has the “Eastcove Local” blog page leaked that?’
Mr Dry shrugged. ‘I don’t know, I never read that crap. It’s a bit obvious.’
I clapped a hand to my forehead. ‘Of course it is. Why else would there be a—’ I stopped mid-speech as the front door smashed open. I hurried to the kitchen doorway but Mr Dry grabbed my arm and pulled me back. ‘What’s Andrew doing here?’ I whispered. ‘He’s come for me!’
‘The whole area is crawling with police,’ Mr Dry hissed. ‘They’ll be here in a minute. Calm down. Keep quiet.’
‘He’ll hurt me again!’ I struggled against Mr Dry’s unflinching grip.
Mr Dry shook his head. ‘I won’t let him. Keep still.’
I wanted to run away, I beat at Mr Dry’s chest but he was too strong and grasped me tightly. I twisted my head so I could see down the hallway. ‘Oh no, he’s gone mad. He’s going to kill him!’
‘Everyone stand back!’ A police officer erupted into the house. ‘Miss.’ He turned to Darrelle. ‘Return to the other room.’
I watched Darrelle glance fearfully at Mr Cool who was beyond the safety of the lounge, wedged in a recess beside a crazed Mr Him. A pale faced Mr Nice trembled in the headlock Mr Him held him in.
‘Let him go,’ ordered the officer.
‘He’s not going anywhere unless I say so!’ Mr Him yelled. His contorted face swivelled in my direction. Mr Nice buckled at the knees, a blade glinting dangerously against the soft flesh of his neck. ‘I’ll let go when he admits he killed Kelly. If he doesn’t,’ Mr Him continued, pressing the knife harder. ‘I’ll slit his lying, bastard throat.’
‘Now,’ commanded another officer who had joined the previous one at the lounge doorway. ‘Mr Parsons, hand me the knife.’ He held out his hand. ‘You don’t want to do anything stupid.’
Several other officers appeared at the open doorway.
‘Stupid?’ Mr Him echoed. ‘It wouldn’t be fucking stupid, it’d be fucking retribution. He killed her, he murdered my fiancée!’
‘I didn’t!’ Mr Nice croaked. ‘You did!’
‘Quiet,’ the first officer ordered. ‘Keep still and nothing will happen to you.’
Mr Him, ignorant to the officers, raised the point of the knife to the underside of Mr Nice’s chin, forcing his face upwards. ‘You murdered her ‘cos you were jealous she wanted me.’
‘She left me, remember? For you. You killed her because you’re a serial killer.’ Mr Nice screamed in a high pitched voice.
Mr Him howled. ‘I didn’t kill her. Why does everyone think I did?’
‘Because you attacked Saze,’ Mr Cool said, still trapped behind Mr Him. ‘I had to knock you out.’
‘Just because I wanted to hurt that bitch doesn’t mean I’d want to kill my fiancée!’ Mr Him shouted furiously at Mr Cool. ‘Who the fuck are you anyway? What’s it got to do with you? You didn’t knock me out. No-one can knock me out, I’m fucking tough, mate.’
‘Calm down.’ Yet another officer stepped closer. ‘Andrew, I’m Jean. We are all here for you to talk to. We are here to listen to you and help you with anything you need.’
Ignoring the police, Mr Cool squared his chin. ‘Who am I? I’m the man who loves Saze.’
I felt my curls part as Mr Dry whispered in my ear. ‘No, he isn’t.’ His hold tightened.
‘We’ll discuss everything after Andrew gives me the knife,’ said Jean smoothly. ‘We can talk as much as you like.’
‘I’m going to be sick.’ Mr Nice looked decidedly green. ‘You’ve actually cut me. Am I bleeding?’
‘Shut the fuck up, you big pansy!’ Mr Him yelled but he started to lower the knife. ‘You.’ He twisted to Mr Cool and pointed at him with the knife. ‘You’re screwing her?’ he pointed the knife at me.
‘No, he’s not!’ I shouted.
‘Be quiet,’ Mr Dry whis
pered.
‘He’s strangling me!’ Mr Nice screamed. ‘I can’t breathe!’
‘Remain calm,’ Jean instructed.
Mr Nice wobbled. ‘He’s cut my throat!’
Jean held out her hands and took a small step forwards. ‘Andrew, please hand me the knife.’
‘I can feel blood, I’m going to die!’ Mr Nice screamed, clearly panicking. Mr Him jabbed the knife towards Mr Nice who screamed louder as it pierced his cheek. ‘I’m really gonna die!’
Mr Him unfurled his arm from around Mr Nice’s neck and grasped his hair, forcing him onto his knees. ‘You’re not dying. That’s pissing sweat running down your pansy-arsed neck. You’re shitting yourself!’ He laughed and kicked Mr Nice sharply, forcing him to crash head first into the wall. Mr Him moved towards Mr Cool, waving his knife in the air. ‘You’re screwing my slut, are you?’ he hissed.
In a blink, officers had jumped on Mr Him and wrestled the knife free.
‘Cuff him!’ yelled one.
‘I’m on it!’ yelled another.
‘He’s a struggler!’ shouted a third.
‘Hang on!’ A fourth officer threw himself onto the huddle on the floor.
‘Tape his legs!’
‘Got him?’
‘Yeah, he’s cuffed and taped.’
‘Right, get him outta here.’
The officers cautiously removed themselves from Mr Him. Two pulled him to his feet, one reciting his caution rights.
‘It’ll be easier if you co-operate,’ instructed the last.
‘Everyone okay?’ Jean asked. One by one, Darrelle, myself, and Mr Dry nodded. Mr Nice, still on the floor and clutching his cheek, moaned. Mr Dry released his hold on me.
‘I’m bleeding,’ Mr Nice complained. ‘I thought I was going to die.’
‘You deserve to!’ yelled Mr Him as he was led out of the house. ‘You fucking murdering bastard.’
‘I didn’t kill her,’ Mr Nice replied weakly. ‘I love her.’
‘I don’t mean to sound as if I’m complaining,’ interrupted Mr Cool, from where he was leaning in the recess. ‘But I think I need some assistance.’
I watched in horror as he removed a scarlet hand from his side. ‘Help him, he’s been stabbed!’ I flew to Mr Cool. He stumbled towards me and collapsed onto my shoulder. I stooped under his weight. The smell of blood hung so heavy in the air I could taste it.
Lies Love Tells (Eastcove Lies Book 1) Page 24
