I AM HERE TO KILL YOU

by Chris Westlake

  Sheena's narrowed eyes silenced Apinya's outburst. I had to press my legs together to stop myself from wetting my knickers. I daren't look at Moira for fear I might burst into hysterics.

  "I never wanted to marry him. A dark cloud suffocated me when I walked down the aisle. I wanted to run away, but I didn't want to humiliate him. So I went through with it. My brother-in-law saw that I was upset, and he consoled me. And one thing led to another..."

  "Where were you, Moira?"

  "In the cloakroom."

  I put my hand over my mouth.

  "And how is your relationship now?"

  "I'm happily married, thank you. I haven't looked at another man in a desiring way since the day after my wedding day. Well, maybe Gerard Butler, but I'd say that's perfectly natural, wouldn't you...?"

  After Moira's contribution, plenty of other ladies raised their hands. Whatever my personal thoughts about Sheena's approach, I can't deny that the women in the group trust her unquestioningly.

  Dipping my middle finger into an opened sachet of tomato ketchup, I suck it into my mouth, savouring the sugar (God, maybe I have missed the sugar rush?). Gives me some time to think. Sheena doesn't know it, but I do have my own tricks; they just aren't as obvious. Sometimes I even repeat questions back whilst my mind works out the answer.

  "Who is 'us'?"

  "The group. The women."

  I tut. Why didn't you say that?

  "I'm with the women," I say. I hold my voice. Hold her eye. "I've always been on their side. I was the founding member of the group, remember. With Rose, of course."

  We don't really mention her name anymore.

  "I've never been quite sure why you joined the group," Sheena says.

  "Don't I have enough reasons?"

  Sheena glances at her reflection in the window. Even after hours of partying, after hours of drinking, she still looks flawless. Apinya's open-mouthed face moves back and forth, back and forth, like she is watching the final at Wimbledon.

  "You know and I know that, if anything happened to any woman in the group, each and every woman would support the other with no questions asked. Would you?"

  "Of course."

  "I really want to test your commitment to the group, Kat. I don't doubt any of the others. Do you know that I've been mingling with the men in the pubs-"

  "What? Why?"

  "To find out what they're talking about. To check what the potential threats are. And you know why? Not for me. For the group."

  "Which men?"

  "The usual suspects. Dave. Geraint-"

  "Ray? Bernard?"

  Sheena smiles. "Sometimes. They tend to be less regular, don't they? Although Bernard does appear to be morphing into his idea of what it means to be a bloke. So tell me. Will you be on our side against all men?"

  I flinch. Of course. Sheena doesn't really give a damn if I despise a drunken leach in The Oak, or if I scowl at the postman; Sheena wants assurance I'll support her in favour of Ray, in favour of my own husband.

  "I'm married to a man, Sheena. A man I love. How can I be against all men?"

  Sheena releases a long, deep sigh, like she's exhausted from all this nonsense. "We've been through all of this," she says.

  I turn to Apinya. Straightening her back, she seems to expand, both in stature and self-righteousness. "I'm married too, remember. And I think all men are fucking savages."

  Sheena's tapered eyes suggest she doesn't believe Apinya any more than I do.

  "How can you say that about your husband?" I ask.

  "Bernard is just like all the others. Only he is too weak to act on his carnal instincts. He is a hypocrite. The worst kind."

  "Then why don't you just leave him...?"

  She shoots me a look. I keep an eye on her fists; they're rolled into miniature balls. Apinya is tiny, but I expect she could be vicious.

  "Listen," Sheena says. "Let's not argue. We're on a night out..."

  Apinya folds her arms across her chest, sinks her chin into her neck. I know what she's thinking - you started it.

  "I would like to prove my point, though. Just not in this way. We're best mates. We shouldn't argue. Shall we have some fun? Play a little game?"

  Apinya springs to life, like she's been stabbed with a needle. “I love games,” she says. “And fun.”

  "It's been a long night," I say. "All I can think of right now is my bed."

  "Don't be a chicken," Apinya says.

  My feathers ruffle. Sheena spots it.

  “Dare to play our game, Katherine?”

  I do not want to play the game. Or, maybe I do?

  "Let's play."

  Sheena nods her approval. Apinya is a rabbit on coke. "Who's first?" she asks. "Can I go first? Pl-ease..."

  "Kat's first." Sheena's unflinching eyes fix on mine.

  I shrug my rounded shoulders, deliberately indifferent.

  "Sure. Whatever you want."

  Sheena gazes around the plastic restaurant, searching for something that takes her interest. Her smile tells me she's found something.

  "See that guy there?" She points with her middle finger. "Go up to him. Be the sexy minx you've been all night..."

  "And..?"

  "Dance with him, girl. Provocatively-"

  "Sexily," Apinya adds, clapping her hands like a sea lion.

  "Yes. Sexily." Sheena winks at Apinya. "We both know how sexy you can dance, Kat..."

  “What on earth for?”

  Sheena doesn't answer. She just smiles.

  My clicking heels trot like a horse on match day. Drunken bodies unravel from their slumber. There is something for them to see.

  Me. How long has it been?

  “Go, girl!” Apinya shouts.

  Blue, watery eyes look up at me. Judging by the lines on his forehead and the grey peppering his hair, he is probably in his forties. God, that's my age. Not bad looking, though. Bending at the knees and shuffling my hips, I resemble a surfer.

  Sheena's shouting interrupts my momentum. “I said sexy, goddamn it! Dance like you mean it. Get closer to him!”

  With my thighs (and my crotch) inches from the edge of the table, the guy's smile broadens. He scans my body - up and down, up and down - zoning in on my curves. He isn't offended by my attention. Far from it. He likes what he sees. He thinks I'm sexy. I half expect him to slip a ten dollar note inside my cleavage. Now, this is fun. This is what I would have done thirty years ago.

  I shuffle back when the man stretches out his arm, attempts to touch my thigh.

  “Hands off her, you beast...!”

  The voice isn't mine. The room spins. I press my hand against the smooth edge of the table to keep my balance. What is going on? Sheena's finger stabs against the man's chest.

  "You dirty little bastard!" she says.

  The man holds his hands up, protests his innocence, says he thought I wanted him to touch me. Saliva coats his mousy, foamy teeth. He says sorry, again and again and again.

  Back at our table, it takes a few minutes for the excitement to die down.

  "Prove our point...?" Sheena asks, smiling wolfishly.

  I slump in my seat. I'm not sure what she proved.

  "I'm not really interested in that guy," Sheena says.

  "Who are you interested in?" I ask, knowing the answer. Apinya's broadening smile indicates she knows what's coming, too.

  "That darling husband of yours."

  I blow out air. "Not this again."

  "We all know something happened with Tess, that sweet, young girl that came to one of our meetings. How old was she again? Twenty? Twenty-one? You said as much yourself. That time I came round to your house, when Ray came home and told us about-"

  "I really didn't say that."

  "I'm not saying it's a bad thing. It excites me..."

  "What...?"

  "We're all doing our bit, Kat. Apinya here has her own little challenge..."

  "And you...?"

  "I told you I have my own game going on with a
few guys from the pub."

  "With our husbands-"

  "Not just them."

  "What exactly is it you want me to do with Ray?"

  Sheena leans forward, like a shark with an open mouth, teeth bared. "I want you to see if he does have another, more exciting side..."

  "And if he does...?"

  "Happy days, Kat."

  "And if he doesn't...?"

  Sheena glances at Apinya. "Then life is passing you by. And I don't think you should let it..."

  "Just what are you saying?"

  "If your husband isn't prepared to give you any fun, Katherine, then I think you should seek some elsewhere..."

  Glancing away, I'm sure I spot a smile on my face in the reflection.

  Saturday 21st June 2019

  Bernard

  Apinya was at her group when she told me. Coincidence? In retrospect, of course she timed it that way. She waited for her to leave the house, waited until the coast was clear. I remember the day. The windows rattled from the wind outside. Rain spitted against my luscious green lawn. My jaw dropped when I opened the door, for it did feel like I'd seen a ghost. She appeared on my doorstep like a drowned rat. Her body was huddled together so she looked shrunken. Her darkened skin looked ingrained with dirt.

  "Rose! I thought-"

  "They let me out, Bernard."

  I was the first person she told. That meant something. She'd hidden for so long, like a fugitive running from the law (which, ironically, she had just escaped from).

  She slipped past me, into the hallway and through to the kitchen, without waiting to be asked in. Following her metaphorical tail, I found her in the kitchen, boiling the kettle. Was she moving in? Rose perched on the edge of the sofa, her sizeable buttocks hanging over the edge; she rocked back and forth, staring into space. I had questions to ask her - of course I had questions to ask her - and I craved answers but, right at that moment, she looked so delicate, so incapable, I managed to tie my tongue and keep quiet.

  "You're a good man, Bernard," she said.

  I didn't know what to say. I didn't feel good. I felt useless.

  I remained silent. We barely exchanged a word for the twenty or so minutes she stayed. Whilst, for me, there was an air of awkwardness, it did feel appropriate.

  Rose finished her coffee. Took both cups and saucers to the sink. Washed and drained them. "Can I come again?" she asked, turning to me, heading for the door. "Have another chat?"

  I reassured her that she could come any time. And she has come, every week, always coinciding with Apinya's Saturday meeting.

  I told Apinya about that first visit. I haven't told her about all of the others.

  "What did you let her into the house for?" she asked.

  "Why wouldn't I? She's my friend."

  Apinya shook her disbelieving head. "You crazy? My husband is crazy. She was arrested for killing somebody. Murder! What is to say she won't kill you?"

  I didn't mean to laugh. Apinya's eyes quickly quietened me. "She didn't kill anybody. They let her go, remember..."

  "Only because they couldn't prove she did it. They couldn't prove OJ Simpson killed anybody. They haven't arrested anybody else, have they? The killer is still out there. That poor, dead man. And Rose remains the prime suspect, Bernie..."

  I left it there. Apinya is a stubborn mule. Especially so when she has a point.

  This morning Rose greets me with a hug. She has lost weight, but it feels healthy. The combed hair and the perfumed scent indicate she is (hopefully) looking after herself.

  "My usual please, Bernard."

  Passing the steaming cup of coffee to her (milk and two sugars), I sit down and wait. She, on the other hand, sits and slurps. I raise an encouraging eyebrow.

  "I've been following her," she says. "I've been piecing together her movements, getting familiar with her habits."

  I tighten my lips. I think back to what Apinya said. First, she waits for Apinya to leave the house, and now she is following Sheena. Are these the actions of a sane woman? There is another reason my teeth grate together, however. Has Rose spotted me in The Oak with Sheena?

  At first I mocked the control Sheena had on Dave and Geraint. They listened to her every word like she was a Messiah sent to correct the world. Why else would such a beautiful woman land unexpectedly in our dreary town? Ray, on the other hand, sat rigid in her presence, with his flat, calloused hands planted firmly against his thighs. What was he thinking? Was he fighting some urges? I stopped mocking Dave and Geraint when Sheena leaned closer to me one evening, her stocking-clad leg grazing against my knee, and whispered that I was looking handsome tonight. I'm certain she felt my leg shake, the wooden table rattle. I cursed myself for the effect she had on me.

  Remove the fake, superior pretences and I was just like all of the other men.

  "I know she visited him after I did," Rose says. I blink away my spiralling thoughts.

  "So you have evidence she did?"

  "Not evidence. I just know."

  We've had this conversation before. At first it was muffled, like she was thinking aloud, struggling to control what was bouncing around in her mind. Now she is convinced. It is an obsession. Personally, I'm not convinced it is a healthy obsession; I fear where it could end. We all have unhealthy obsessions, don't we? I know how deadly they can be.

  "Have you been to the police, like I told you to?"

  Her grunt is dismissive. She didn't respond when I first suggested it; her turned back told me everything."They don't want to know, Bernard. They want me to be the killer. I'm convenient. They want to stick a square peg into a round hole-"

  "I'm confident that's not how detective investigations work, Rose-"

  "And besides, like you said, they need evidence. Even if they did listen, I have nothing tangible to tell them, merely theories and my gut feeling. They'll think I'm a crazed conspiracy theorist, like that David Dyke-"

  "Ike..."

  "That's what I said. Anyway, it is irrelevant that I just happen to be right..."

  "Can you get evidence? Maybe find some rail tickets? Like they did with-"

  Her constricted eyes cut me off. "I don't think she'd leave rail tickets hanging around, do you? I only did because I had nothing to hide. It wasn't a mistake, like the rest of the town seems to think."

  "What about CCTV? Maybe footage of her at both train stations?"

  "I thought about that, Miss Marble. But I don't even know what day she travelled. They couldn't confirm the date and time of death. And besides, she could have travelled some other way. And, who knows? I'm not saying she actually held the knife. She may have hired somebody else to do it..."

  I try to keep my face neutral. Placid. I want to tell her that she is answering her own questions; what good would that do? It is a lost cause. Move on. She never liked the man anyway, but he was her husband, and besides, we both know this isn't really about him.

  "Do you know what I'm going to do?"

  I look at her. My blank expression tells her I don't know.

  "I'm going to hunt her down myself..."

  She has implied this before. This time, I believe her.

  "The thing is, I may need some help, Bernard..."

  I take the empty cups to the kitchen. Standing at the sink, my hands feel cold, they feel numb.

  I have no idea if I feel this way from fear, or from excitement.

  Katherine

  "Somebody looks nice tonight," I say.

  A crimson flush crosses my husband's freshly-shaved cheeks. He brushes a hand down his ironed shirt. Raising both eyebrows, he flashes a Colgate smile.

  "Not you," I say. "The barman that served us."

  I playfully slap his arm as the colour drains and the smile disappears. "I'm joking. You look better than nice. You look edible."

  His nod is uncertain and suspicious. Do I really not pay him any compliments? Just how much did I change over the years? Just how far have we drifted? Were we ever that close? Where do the secrets end, an
d the truth begin? Ray has never told me that he sometimes drinks with Sheena, but then, I guess I've never asked. I wonder whether he's ever imagined her when he's with me?

  "So what do you think about the group meeting three times a week? I'll cut back if you like."

  I can't cut back, of course. He doesn't know this. Another secret.

  "I don't mind," he says. "Gives me a bit of space."

  Space to go to the pubs with your mates, I think. Rob has been joining them, apparently. They've become quite close over the last few months, despite the age difference. And Bernard has become quite the regular, too. How outrageous is that! God, I think, looking at my husband from across the table, Sheena has no idea how keen I am to complete her challenge, how desperate I am to break free of this life of tedium and drudgery.

  "Are you going to let me taste you tonight?" I ask. "Back at the hotel room?"

  He says nothing. His smile tells me in no uncertain terms that he will. Leaving my black heel on the floor, I stretch out my leg, snake my foot along his calf.

  "I'm not the only one who thinks you look nice tonight," I say.

  His eyes narrow. He suspects I'm playing a game. "What? What are you talking about?"

  "The waitress. Didn't you see the way her eyes lingered? The way she smiled...?"

  "That's her job, Kat."

  "If you say so. Not sure she learnt those looks on some customer service course."

  "You jealous?"

  "Far from it. It excites me."

  "Excites you?"

  My smile widens. My foot circles his knee. His legs part maybe just an inch wider. His fingernails dig into the meticulous white table cloth.

  "Why?"

  "I've always liked the thought of you with another woman, Ray. I guess you could call it a fantasy. I think about it when I play with myself. But maybe I'm tired of living life in my mind? I'd like to watch. Maybe join in..."

  "What the fuck is going on with you...?"

  I release a long sigh. "Don't you ever get bored?"

  "With?"

  I hold out my upturned hands. "With this. With everything. With everyday life."

  He looks down. Examines the fingernail. "I have a beautiful wife I love. The most fantastic grown-up boy I could ever ask for. My own business. Friends. Isn't that pretty good, Kat? I'm content. I thought you were, too..."