It was uncomfortable maintaining the awkward position he’d slung me into but I forced myself not to fidget. I wondered if I could reach the axe first. Mr Cool straddled me and gently manoeuvred my head to face him. He opened my dressing-gown and ran his hands across my stomach; calluses which I had been blind to before, scratched.
‘I love the feel of your skin,’ he said regretfully. ‘It’s the softest I’ve ever felt.’
‘Why did you kill Darrelle?’ I asked. ‘She was your sister, you loved her.’
His hands ceased their unwanted caressing and hovered above my waist. ‘And I will always love her. She was my perfect sister. What I do with you has nothing to do with her. First I’m going to kiss your delectable flesh then we’ll make love and I’ll give you the largest smile you’ve ever had.’ His excitement charged the air and I could taste his insanity.
‘I’ll slit your throat as we finish making love,’ he continued, his voice thick with lust and crazed fantasy as he moved over me. ‘I’ll build you a tomb. A sarcophagus within an elaborate, subterranean tomb. I want to look at you when I show you my next perfect girl.’
Everything fell into place. I understood, well as much as someone can understand a raving, murdering psychopath with a sibling suffering from shared delusions. The murder of their mother by their father, and the separation of Darrelle and Mr Cool at a young age by their grandfather had been necessary but had left Mr Cool with a disturbed need for a perfect family. Maybe their grandfather had seen the affect Mr Cool had on Darrelle, the psychological hold he clearly had over her, maybe he had seen there was the beginnings of more than sibling love between them both and acted in the best way he thought by sending Mr Cool away with his parents.
Mr Cool needed help, he needed to be on a secure, psychiatric ward.
Either that, or dead.
With movement returned to me, I brought up a knee as hard as I could and struck Mr Cool in the side where he had been stabbed. He crumpled in pain. Surprising myself with my almost superhuman power I forced him off of me and scrambled towards the axe. My fingers almost grasped the handle but Mr Cool grabbed my ankle before I could touch it. I kicked out repeatedly until my bare heel made contact with his jaw. He howled and I managed to slide away for mere seconds before he pounced upon me again.
‘Let her go!’ an authoritative voice ordered from the doorway.
Mr Cool’s hold loosened and I kicked back, suddenly free from his grasp although his octopus arms threatened to reach me again.
The formidable figure in the doorway brandished a gun. ‘Don’t do it,’ said Mr Dry, unwaveringly pointing the gun at Mr Cool. ‘Stay exactly where you are, Nathan. Saze,’ he said, not taking his eyes off Mr Cool. ‘Move slowly towards me.’
As instructed, I slowly crawled towards him when I wanted to run. After what seemed an eternity I reached his long legs and skidded behind him, grasping them with relief.
‘You.’ Mr Dry waved the gun at Mr Cool. ‘Keep your hands where I can see them.’
‘I haven’t even had the chance to tell Saze about the others. I have so much to share.’ Mr Cool folded his bulk into a cross legged sitting position. ‘Kill me and you’ll never know what really happened to her.’
Mr Dry cocked his head. ‘Why don’t you tell me how you killed my Katy thirteen years ago?’
The shock dried my tears. ‘You killed his fiancée?’
‘Catherine was very enjoyable.’
I didn’t know why I hadn’t figured it out before. ‘Catherine was Katy.’
Mr Cool nodded at my realisation.
I tugged Mr Dry’s jeans. ‘You knew he killed her? You know each other?’
‘Yes,’ replied Mr Dry stiffly. ‘I suspected he had murdered Katy but I only knew for sure when he turned up and clubbed me around the head earlier. I had a suspicion at the time but no proof. Colleagues had told me about him and Katy. They’d seen them together. He had an iron-fast alibi, unlike me. I’m not the calmest person when being accused of murder. Go on, you sick bastard, tell me how you did it, I know you want to brag.’
Mr Cool smiled smugly. ‘It was easy to lift your keys and have them copied. You really shouldn’t have left your keys to the station at your home.’
Mr Dry’s shoulders visibly stiffened and I felt the tension in his legs.
‘Darrelle didn’t drive past his house the other day, did she?’ I asked Mr Cool. ‘You’ve known all along where he lived?’ A thought chilled me. ‘Did you use me to get to him?’
Mr Cool shook his head. ‘I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you. Learning of your acquaintance with Catherine’s old flame was an unexpected bonus.’ He glared at Mr Dry. ‘Catherine was going to leave you. She loved me. She loved us; me and Darrelle. We could have been the perfect family but you just wouldn’t let her go.’
‘I loved her! There were moments I had to stop myself from tracking you down and strangling you. The fact I was seeing a counsellor at that time worked to your advantage. But it wasn’t you Katy wanted, was it?’
‘Yes!’ Mr Cool shouted. ‘She was as perfect as Saze. I was going to treat Catherine like a queen.’
‘Did you know Katy was pregnant when you killed her?’ Mr Dry asked. ‘She’d just found out she’d be having a girl. I decorated the room in anticipation.’
‘It could’ve been mine,’ Mr Cool said cockily.
Mr Dry shook his head. ‘No, the baby was undoubtedly mine. You killed her because she didn’t want you in the end.’
Mr Cool wailed. ‘No! You’re lying, you have no idea what you’re talking about.’
‘I do, Katy told me she’d fallen in love with a woman. A gorgeous woman who lived in this house. You killed Katy because she didn’t want you but she didn’t want me either.’
Mr Cool’s hands shook. ‘You’re wrong, Darrelle wouldn’t have kept a secret from me.’
‘No, Nathan, I’m right. I know full well Katy didn’t love you. All of those other women you killed, they never loved you either.’
‘They did!’ Mr Cool, now Mr Murdering-Psychopath-Weirdo-Pervert wailed. ‘They all love me!’
‘And Saze doesn’t love you either,’ Mr Dry finished triumphantly.
Mr Cool turned his wild and flaming eyes to me. ‘You do, don’t you?’
I turned my face away and trembled behind Mr Dry’s legs.
‘NO!’ Mr Cool bellowed. He reached into his pocket and drew out a gun which was most definitely not a dart gun. ‘If you’re dead, she’ll love me. You’re confusing her with all of your bravado. Saze knows how good we are together. She knows no-one will ever love her like I do.’
Mr Dry cocked his gun.
Mr Cool stood up. ‘Let’s see who gets one off first, shall we, old chap? This is not a sedative. The winner gets the girl.’ Mr Cool raised a taunting eyebrow.
I turned at the sound of stampeding footsteps. Police officers, armoured and armed, charged into the room.
One of them strode to Mr Dry and placed a restraining hand on his arm. ‘It’s alright,’ he said gruffly. ‘We have it, every single word. Lower your gun.’ He signalled for officers to move in.
Mr Dry lowered his gun to his side and reached down a hand for me. I grasped onto his offered hand with both of mine and he pulled me to my feet and into his embrace. I shook and trembled while we watched Mr Cool hold a stand-off to the armed officers.
Mr Cool pointed his gun at me and the bang of a shot reverberated.
I clutched my chest and collapsed. Seconds later, Mr Cool fell to the floor, blood spilling from his forehead.
Mr Dry kept his arm extended above my head, his gun steady in his hand.
***
Sunday, 17th March 2013
Mr Dry, My Hero.
01:00
Mr Dry handed his gun to the police officer. ‘May we go, Inspector?’ He pulled off his jumper, unstuck a wire and took off a bullet-proof vest before yanking his jumper back on again.
The Inspector nodded. ‘There’ll be ques
tions to be answered but,’ he said tapping the recording device. ‘We have a fair bit to work on here. There’s an ambulance outside please make sure Ms Monnivan is given the once over. We will need a formal statement from her.’
‘I want my daughter.’ My heart swelled at the thought of her.
Mr Dry wrapped a supportive arm around my waist. ‘She’s fine, she’s at Sally’s house.’
‘Not the hotel?’ My eyes darted to the lifeless body of Mr Cool.
‘I had Sally move her the moment I regained consciousness.’ He squeezed me tight. ‘She’s important to you which means she’s important to me.’
‘Thank you,’ I replied, emotion engulfing me. I burst into tears.
There I stood crying, with Mr Dry’s arms around me, for what seemed an eternity. My legs weakened and I relied on him to hold me up. The front of his jumper had stuck to my face by the time I was able to compose myself.
Mr Dry’s lips pressed my forehead. ‘Do you want me to carry you out?’
‘I can walk.’
‘It’s not a pretty sight. Darrelle’s remains are out there.’
I cast a final look at Mr Cool’s body and felt remorse although all I wanted to feel was disgust. I didn’t understand him and I knew I never really would. He’d been a man who excelled in his chosen profession. Shockwaves were sure to take an age to settle once the news of a murderous headteacher broke.
The next room before the wine cellar was brightly lit. I followed Mr Dry being careful to step only where he advised. I tried hard not to look at Darrelle’s body but it registered there were several pieces of her. I didn’t want to see her face. A huge, crimson pool glistened under the harsh light. My hand flew to my mouth as one thing came into focus before I went through the door; a clump of hair sodden with blood. Darrelle’s hair. I managed to stumble into the wine cellar before throwing up.
‘Are you okay?’ Mr Dry steadied my swaying body.
I shook my head, echoes of Darrelle’s screams bouncing around inside. ‘Nathan really did kill her, didn’t he? Darrelle’s dead.’
I woke with a start and realised I couldn’t move.
Mr Dry reached over and unclipped my tangled seat belt. ‘We’re at Sally’s. You fell asleep.’
Daughter stood on the doorstep, hand in Sally’s, her face paper white. Suddenly she launched herself off the step and flew down the path. Time stopped. I stumbled from the car, just catching Daughter as she catapulted into me.
‘Mum!’ she cried, fresh tears streaming from her swollen eyes.
I swept her up, burying my face in her soft hair, and breathed in the wonderfully familiar Daughter scent.
‘You could’ve died!’ She wrapped her legs around my hips. ‘What about Dad, he’s not a murderer?’
Daughter was heavy in my arms but I didn’t care. ‘No, sweetheart, he’s not.’
‘So I can love him again?’
‘You can always love him; he’s your father. That will never change.’
Her eyes widened. ‘But I won’t have to live with him?’
‘Of course not, why do you ask?’
‘Kelly told me I was going to live with them.’
I remembered Daughter was still unaware of Kelly’s grisly end but didn’t want to talk about it. How could I tell her Darrelle, the woman who had treated her so well and spoilt us both rotten in the brief time we knew her, had murdered her father’s girlfriend?
‘I’ve one question,’ I said to Mr Dry once we’d tucked Daughter into bed at his house. ‘Why didn’t you tell me about Nathan? Why didn’t you warn me?’
‘Would you have believed me?’
‘Yes.’
‘Honestly?’
‘No, most probably not. I’d have thought you were just jealous.’
‘I tried to tell you on several occasions but you can be very cloth-eared and stubborn.’
‘When did you try?’ I demanded. ‘I don’t believe you.’
‘You expect me to remember off the top of my head? Fine. At the golf club when you and Nathan were on that date.’
‘The time you deliberately stalked me?’
‘I was making sure you were safe. I was going to tell you but you stormed off, I could hardly chase you and blurt it out in the middle of the restaurant. In the supermarket, I almost told you then but you sent me to the car and finally, just before you clonked me over the sodding head. You broke that lamp by the way.’
‘Is it very sore?’
‘I don’t think lamps really have feelings.’
I giggled. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘I was whacked twice, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to walk in a straight line again. I keep veering off to the left.’ He prodded me in the side. ‘You said one question… that was four.’
‘Last one, I promise.’
‘Hmmm.’
‘Is Sally really your sister?’
Mr Dry visibly stiffened. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘The pair of you don’t look alike. She’s all small and blonde and you’re all…’
‘All what?’
I laughed nervously. ‘Tall and dark haired and brooding and…’
‘Old,’ Mr Dry interrupted. ‘And by the sounds of it just stepped out of a nineteenth century novel. For your information, I’m only forty-eight.’
‘Is she?’
Mr Dry cleared his throat. ‘Not by blood, no. My parents fostered her for a while when she was fifteen.’
My fuddled brain whirred. ‘How come you’re a blood donor for her son if the two of you aren’t even related?’
‘You are infuriatingly nosey. Sally can’t have children. I was one of her donors for the surrogate.’
‘You were your sister’s sperm donor!’
‘For goodness sake, woman, we were foster brother and sister for a couple of months when Sally was a teenager. She was adopted soon after by another family but Sally and I always kept in contact. To each other, we are family.’
‘Couldn’t she have found a donor another way?’
Mr Dry glared furiously at me. ‘Stop being a judgemental snob. I don’t see Tom as my son, neither does Sally. He’s my nephew and that’s the end of it.’
‘Does Tom know you’re his father?’ I couldn’t help thinking of Nathan and Darrelle, who had been real brother and sister.
Mr Dry sighed heavily. ‘Cloth ears you do have. I’m not his father. I’m his uncle.’
‘He has your DNA,’ I pointed out. ‘Is this a thing you do regularly, donate sperm?’
‘As a matter of fact, yes. I also donate blood. Is that a problem for you, or would you rather castrate and cork me?’
‘I’m sorry. It’s a lot to take in. I’ve had a stressful time.’
Mr Dry’s features softened. ‘I shouldn’t have blown up. I understand your confusion.’
‘Who was the surrogate?’
Mr Dry shrugged. ‘Some wealthy woman who didn’t want children of her own but who wanted to help. Sally didn’t want to know her name. She said she already felt enough of a failure.’
I instantly thought of Darrelle. Some wealthy woman who didn’t want children of her own. It couldn’t have been her, could it? Tom was twelve… Katy had been murdered thirteen years ago… Katy had been Mr Dry’s fiancée who had fallen in love with Darrelle… Mr Dry’s foster sister had needed a surrogate… had it been Darrelle’s way of making up for Katy’s death? To give Mr Dry a nephew when she had been instrumental in taking his fiancée away? It all seemed too much of a weird coincidence, the people all too close… Realising there was no way now I’d ever know, I thought of Daughter and my heart swelled. ‘I understand why Sally didn’t want to know. You’re a very generous man. And also a very brave one.’
‘Handsome?’ he asked hopefully. ‘Devilishly sexy?’ He kissed me.
‘Big headed more like!’
‘But you like me.’ He kissed me again. ‘I know you do else you’d be hitting me over the head right now.’
***
&nbs
p; Monday, 18th March 2013
Pieces of Me
14:45
‘Who are all those people outside my school?’ Daughter asked as we drove past on the way to the police station.
I twisted in my seat for a better view. Vans and cars littered the road, gaggles of people formed clumps peppered with microphone booms and cameras while police watched over cautiously.
‘Reporters and photographers.’ I looked away, anxious to not be seen.
‘But school’s shut.’ Unlike me, Daughter pressed her face against the glass.
Mr Dry coughed. ‘They’ll be everywhere. Darrelle’s house, anywhere he frequented.’ His eyes flitted to me. ‘Your place.’
Daughter bounced excitedly, restrained from hitting the car roof by her seat belt. ‘Can we go see?’
Tension knotted in my stomach. ‘No. I can’t talk to them.’
Daughter leant against the back of my car seat and tugged playfully on my hair. ‘Please, please, please!’
‘I must admit I’m curious to see how many are camped at your place,’ Mr Dry said thoughtfully. ‘I thought the pair of you may want some of your things.’
I folded my arms across my chest. ‘I’m not curious.’
‘You could talk to your neighbour friend. He hasn’t called you since I saved you.’
‘He couldn’t call me, I’ve lost my phone. Again. Anyway, what do you mean by neighbour friend?’ I asked crossly. ‘Are you implying he’s more than a friend?’
‘No.’ Mr Dry took the exit onto the road which led to my flat building. ‘I’m implying he’s not much of a friend. Don’t think I hadn’t noticed his lack of contact.’
The gardens surrounding my building were a riot of colour. Heads topped with all manner of headgear in a huge spectrum of shades spun around at the sound of our approaching car.
Lies Love Tells (Eastcove Lies Book 1) Page 29
