The other woman huffed. ‘Chief Inspector. He does have a name.’
‘Excuse me,’ Vicky mocked. ‘Chief Inspector James.’
The anonymous voice was smug. ‘Of course I’m still seeing him, as if he would drop me.’
‘Aren’t you afraid his wife will find out?’
The tap turned on again. ‘I’m expert at secret affairs. Talking of affairs have you heard who’s coming back to work?’
‘Who?’ Vicky turned and leant against the vanity unit, I wondered if she’d notice my eye through the gap.
‘Who is the most wonderful, gorgeous, delicious man I’ve ever met?’
‘James?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Small shoulders rose as the other woman sighed in exasperation. ‘Who did I have the mind-blowing sex with on that trip to Medway many years ago? I went up to meet James but he took his wife so I was on my own, then I met…’
‘How the blimmin’ hell would I know?’
‘He had the most amazing hands and he knew just what to do with them.’
My neck ached but I was frozen. I had a terrible feeling I knew exactly who the mind-blowing sex man was.
The unknown woman shook her tousled, blonde hair. ‘He was engaged to Catherine Parrot.’
Vicky squealed. ‘The Cell killer!’
The blonde woman hushed again. ‘He didn’t kill Catherine. The headteacher killed her.’
Vicky zipped her handbag shut and slung it over her shoulder. ‘And?’
I couldn’t bear it any longer I had to see who the other woman was. The one claiming to have slept with Mr Dry. The women moved out of view, their footsteps heading to the door. Gently I opened the cubicle door. Vicky swung the entrance door open, blocking clear view to the blonde woman.
‘I know he’s back in the same house,’ said the blonde woman, suddenly stopping. ‘He must be lonely there on his own without anyone to keep him company.’
‘Isn’t that a bit transparent? Like, “Hello I know you’re not really a murderer, can we be shag buddies again?” Does he even remember you?’
The other woman laughed. ‘I want much more than a shag from him. I spent this afternoon making sure he remembered exactly who I was. I let his hands do a little remembering of their own. I’ve got to reel him in.’
They stepped out as I quickly washed my hands, the door slowly closing behind them.
I flew from the toilets. Vicky and the woman had disappeared as if they had been figments of my own imagination then, suddenly, I smelt it. The sweet perfume. I followed it down the corridor but only my solitary footsteps greeted me.
Mr Dry flashed his headlights as I emerged from the police station. The car park was dimly lit and I hurried across it.
Mr Dry smiled lopsidedly once I’d slipped into the passenger seat.
I looked in the back for Daughter. ‘Where is she?’
‘At Sally’s playing computer games with Tom.’
I coughed; a sweet scent overloading my senses. ‘What’s that smell?’
Mr Dry shrugged. ‘I can’t smell anything.’
‘It smells like perfume.’
‘What are you insinuating? Mr Dry grunted. He tapped the rear view mirror and a small, rubber, strawberry bobbed. ‘Air-freshener.’
Dubiously I lifted it free and sniffed it. Unconvinced I replaced it. ‘Were you always faithful to Katy?’
Mr Dry started the engine. ‘What kind of a devil question is that?’
‘I’d like to know what I’m letting myself in for.’
Mr Dry kept his eyes forward. ‘Of course I was.’
‘Even when you had to spend nights away from her? On work seminars for example.’
‘Absolutely.’
‘Why were you so long in picking me up?’
Mr Dry slammed on the brakes, the seat belt garrotting me. ‘Why do you think?’ he asked crossly. ‘Go on, you obviously have an interesting theory eating away inside that snake pit head of yours.’
‘I don’t know,’ I snapped. ‘If I did then I wouldn’t be asking.’
Mr Dry swivelled in his seat to face me. ‘Honestly, you are so infuriating.’
Something inside me snapped. ‘I’m infuriating? I think I’ve been really lenient with you, actually. You drugged me. You took my daughter away from me.’
‘I thought this was over with?’ Mr Dry’s knuckles whitened as he squeezed the steering wheel. ‘I only did that for you, to try and keep you safe. You make it sound as if I enjoyed it.’
‘Where were you earlier?’
‘Why does it matter?’
Anger bubbled inside me. ‘I’ve had enough of people lying to me. Tell me where you were earlier while I was giving my statement!’
‘At home.’
‘On your own?’
‘Seriously, Saze?’ Mr Dry stared out of the window.
‘Yes, seriously. Were you on your own?’
‘I understand you are still upset about the Nathan incident and I don’t blame you but you don’t need to cause an argument.’
‘I don’t trust you!’ I snapped the seat belt free and opened the car door. ‘Tell me the truth or I am out of here. Were you alone?’
Mr Dry hung his head. His voice was low. ‘No.’
I wanted to hit him but I didn’t. ‘We’re over. Don’t come near me ever again.’
‘I made a mistake!’ Mr Dry cried. ‘Saze!’
He leant over to reach for me but I threw myself out of the car.
‘Saze!’ he shouted. ‘Get back in the damn car.’
I poked my head inside long enough to say, ‘I’m getting a taxi home, and I’ll send one to collect my daughter.’
***
Monday, 22nd April 2013
Memories of You.
I knew I shouldn’t but I wanted one last look at Darrelle’s and Mr Cool’s house before it was eventually sold. I ordered a taxi and had it drop me at the entrance to the long driveway. The sun was shining and the sky was that kind of blue normally associated with a warm summery day. The windows to the house were boarded up but it looked as if the board to the window of what had been Darrelle’s office had been tampered with. The grounds still took my breath away as I strolled to the paddocks. The horses had rehomed from what I had heard. The old barn brought back mixed memories of Darrelle as I swung the door open. The dusty floor and its collection of furniture remained untouched. I had been in two minds whether to throw out the furniture Darrelle had given me but sense prevailed and I’d decided to contact an antique house to sell it instead.
‘Saze.’ The voice rooted me to the spot.
Memories wove around my head. The sound of footsteps neared me and I wasn’t entirely sure whether they were real or remembered. A touch on the back of my jacket startled me into action.
‘Leave me alone!’ I screamed.
‘Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?’ Mr Him circled around me. ‘You have some of this furniture at home. You’re gonna give it to me so I can sell it. I know you have lamps worth six grand. I want those and the rest of the stuff.’
His pacing made me dizzy. I wondered how he knew how much the lamps were worth. ‘I’m not giving you anything. If you want something, you’ll have to steal it from here.’
His stubble grazed my cheek. ‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’d report me and have me arrested. Again,’ he growled into my ear. ‘I want it. I need the money.’
Familiar shakes started at my fingertips. I clenched my fists determinedly. ‘Go to hell.’ The words came out stronger than I could have hoped.
‘You’re going to fucking well give me whatever I want.’
I winced as his hand snapped up and grabbed a bunch of my curls, bringing tears to my eyes. He pulled my head back and I clutched at his wrist, forcing my nails into the soft flesh on the underside.
‘I’m not giving you anything,’ I said.
He howled as my nails pierced his skin, and released me. ‘Fucking bitch! You never used to be this d
ifficult.’
‘Go figure,’ I spat. ‘I’ve changed. I survived the curse of Cut-throat Casanova, you’re nothing in comparison to him. I won’t let you walk all over me. You are nothing to me.’
Mr Him rubbed the blood crescents on his wrist. ‘Give me the stuff, or the money from it, or I’m taking our daughter and leaving the country. You’ll never find us.’
Anger rose from the pit of my stomach and burnt my throat. ‘You’re not clever enough!’
Mr Him reached for a lamp base from the pile of discarded furniture. He twisted the wire of it between his hands. ‘We had it all planned.’
I laughed. ‘You and Kelly?’
Mr Him nodded. ‘It was her idea to take the girls and disappear. You and that fucking half-wit husband of hers couldn’t have done a thing about it.’
‘It was unfortunate for you that she went and had herself murdered then, wasn’t it?’
With a roar Mr Him launched the lamp base in my direction. I ducked and it sailed over my head, smashing upon the floor.
‘The money, the stuff, or the child!’ he shouted, saliva splattering his lips. ‘You decide.’
I folded my arms across my chest. ‘I think I’ll keep any money I make and I am definitely keeping my daughter.’
He swooped on me, wrapping his hands around my neck. ‘Not an option,’ he snarled. His face pressed mine. ‘I could strangle you right now and no-one would ever know I’d been here.’
‘Of course,’ I replied sarcastically. ‘Because the police don’t have forensics.’
His fingers tightened. ‘When did you turn into such a bitch? You used to do everything I told you to. You deserve to be strangled over that shitty blog you wrote. All the bullshit you said about me.’
My eyes widened.
Mr Him’s nose crinkled as he screwed it up. ‘You really think I didn’t know? I’ve known all along. Made it easy to keep track of you. Until you stopped because you were scared.’ His hands squeezed harder, his eyes narrowing in undisguised glee.
‘I’m not afraid of you,’ I rasped. ‘You don’t frighten me.’
Keeping a hand tight around my neck he wrenched my coat open. ‘You want to be frightened?’ His lips strained across his teeth. ‘You need a fucking lesson from a real man.’
‘Get off me!’ I clawed at his face, my nails easily slicing tracks across his cheeks.
‘Enough!’ He cuffed me around the head. ‘Shut up! The only words I want to hear from that slag-hole of yours is that you’re giving me the money.’
With my ears ringing I clenched a fist and punched Mr Him on the jaw. He was so surprised he released me.
‘What the hell?’ he asked, rubbing his reddening jaw.
Trying not to show how much it had actually hurt my hand to have hit him, I tied the belt back up around my coat and glared at him. ‘Don’t you ever touch me again.’
‘Don’t tell me what to do!’ He pushed his face into mine.
Preparing for him to grab me again, I clenched both fists. ‘Don’t you tell me what to do.’
‘I’ll tell you to do whatever I fucking want and you’ll do it.’
‘No, I won’t.’
Although I had my fists clenched I wasn’t prepared for the thump he delivered to my cheek. It was so hard I stumbled sideways, my cheek bursting into flames of pain that flared around my eye socket. He grabbed me by my hair and yanked me up to face him, tearing strands from my scalp. He raised his hand again. Without even thinking about it I kneed him in the groin and he crumpled over, moaning. With a surge of adrenalin, and while he was doubled over, I kneed him again and kicked him until he fell to the ground.
‘Leave me alone!’ I screamed, grabbing a broken chair leg from the pile of discarded furniture. ‘Don’t get up or I’ll hit you over the head with this!’
‘You wouldn’t dare.’ Mr Him looked up at me from the ground.
‘Try me.’ I held the broken chair leg with both hands. ‘If you ever raise a finger to me again I will fight you until you are begging me to stop. I have had ENOUGH of you to last me a lifetime. You don’t control me. You can never control me again.’
Keeping hold of the chair leg I held my head high and stalked out of the building.
‘Get back here, you bitch!’ Mr Him called after me. ‘Don’t walk out on me!’
Ignoring him, I stopped at the barn door and tossed the chair leg down. He shouted after me, swearing and threatening all sorts but I no longer cared. My knuckles hurt but it was a good sort of pain.
13:30
I stopped outside “Viola’s”. I hadn’t made the conscious decision to go to the wine bar but nevertheless, there I stood. Nerves butterflied in my stomach and I almost turned away, the same as I had many times over the years but I forced my feet to move.
It was surprisingly quiet inside the wine bar. Only a few tables were occupied and there was just one person serving.
‘Can I get you anything?’ the young man behind the bar asked.
Placing my handbag on the bar top, I perched on a stool. ‘Coffee, please.’
The man nodded and moved over to the coffee machine. He glanced at me over his shoulder. ‘Aren’t you the woman from the paper? The one who was involved with that serial killer?’
I sighed; it had been over a month but the shadow of Cut-throat Casanova still lingered. ‘Yes.’
‘Can I take a photo with you?’ The man’s face took on an animated expression.
‘No.’
‘Oh go on, don’t be mean!’ He leant over the bar, phone in hand. ‘Come on!’
‘No.’
He held his camera outwards, angling the screen towards us both whilst shoving his head as close as possible to mine.
‘I said no!’ Grabbing a menu I held it in front of my face.
The man grabbed the menu out of my hand and laughed. ‘Don’t be shy!’
‘Jake!’ said a cross sounding voice from behind me. ‘Stop it.’
Jake shoved his phone in his pocket. ‘Sorry, boss.’ Not looking me in the eye he turned his attention to the coffee machine.
I couldn’t turn around. It had taken all of my strength to go to the wine bar in the first place. Footsteps moved around me. I recognised the scent of his aftershave, unchanged even after all of these years.
‘Saze?’ he asked. ‘Is it really you?’
Taking a deep breath I raised my chin and smiled. ‘Hello, Smith.’
‘Are you on your own?’ Lines which hadn’t been there years ago now etched his tanned face. His toffee-honey hair was now flecked with grey and the stubble on his face peppered with the same.
I nodded.
He fidgeted with his own mobile phone, passing it from one hand to the other. He looked as if he were about to say something but cleared his throat instead. He looked away as Jake set a cup of coffee before me.
‘No charge,’ Smith told Jake when the latter went to ask for payment. ‘How are you, Saze?’
‘Not too bad,’ I replied, overly bright. It was now or never. It had been too long, too many wasted years.
‘I read about the, erm, incident in the newspaper.’
‘Hmm.’
‘Are you really okay?’
The concern in his voice made me want to touch him. I reached for his forearm but stopped short, my hand hovering halfway between us both. ‘No but I don’t want to talk about it at the moment.’
Smith stopped passing his phone from hand to hand. ‘Are you here with him?’
I shook my head. ‘If you didn’t already know, we’re no longer together.
‘I can’t say I am not delighted to hear that.’
‘Will you sit with me for a while?’
Smith pulled out the bar stool next to mine and sat, facing me. ‘You actually want to speak to me? It has been years since we last saw each other.’
‘About thirteen.’
‘Thirteen years and six months, well it will be six months next week.’
Hope made me look him strai
ght in the eye. ‘You’ve kept count?’
‘Of course I have. Haven’t you?’
I nodded, a blush heating my cheeks. I felt ridiculously nervous with him staring at me so I looked around the bar. ‘Are you on your, erm, own?’
‘If you are asking whether I am attached…’ Smith touched me briefly on the top of my hand, making me jump. ‘I am not.’
‘Oh.’ I didn’t know what else to say. I’d made it so far yet the words I needed were stuck in my head and I couldn’t release them.
Smith cleared his throat again and signalled to Jake. ‘A bottle of champagne please, with two glasses.’
‘It’s only lunchtime!’ I protested.
Smith uncorked the bottle Jake passed to him from the fridge. ‘And your point is?’
‘It’s too early.’
‘Having you back here now is too late in my opinion,’ Smith replied, carefully filling two champagne flutes. ‘We should have done this many, many years ago, Saze, so a celebration is not too early.’
I sipped the champagne and smiled at him over the rim of the glass.
‘Did you just pop in on the off chance of a free drink?’ Smith teased.
I shook my head. ‘Of course not.’
‘Was there a reason you chose today to walk back into my bar? Of all the bars in all the town…’ He grinned. ‘Sorry, that was an awful attempt at a joke.’
I took a gulp of my drink while I tried to put together what I actually wanted to say. ‘I’m sorry.’
Smith frowned. Placing his glass on the bar, he stood up. I noticed his hand trembled as he took my glass from me and set it down. ‘Thirteen years and six months ago I should have worked up the courage to tell you I would not give up on you.’ He pulled me to my feet and held my hands in his. ‘I should never have let you listen to that stubborn head of yours and walk out of my life, Saze, when we lost our baby. I am sorry I didn’t try harder to keep you. If you will let me, I would like to try and make it up to you.’
I wanted to laugh and cry all at the same time but instead I joked, ‘Have you been practising that?’
Smith shrugged and tried to look nonchalant. ‘Maybe a little.’
Lies Love Tells (Eastcove Lies Book 1) Page 31
