by Ian Fox
And now she was finally with him again. She had lied about another headache and waited for him agitatedly in front of the hotel. Everything happened exactly as she had planned. Even better than planned, since she had been afraid he would reject her. Because she liked him so much, his rejection was what worried her most.
“Oh, Simon, I enjoy being with you so much …” she managed to say just before the waves came. And again he made her experience something no other man before him had managed to. She felt as if she was being caressed by a thousand hands and the tension in her body grew and grew until it reached its limit, followed by a release she had not known until now.
Simon lay on his back, exhausted. He stared at the ceiling, waiting for his body to recover. The more his heartbeat slowed, the worse his mood became. He was riddled with guilt for having been unfaithful to Helen for the second time. Then he remembered Carlo Vucci and the recent terrible dream. He quickly started getting dressed.
“What’s the hurry?” Christine asked anxiously.
Simon didn’t reply. Without looking at her, he put on his pants and shirt.
“I don’t see why you have to rush away. Stay here, please. We can do it again later.” She got up and embraced him from behind.
“We shouldn’t have done it, Christine,” he said with a cold voice. “My God, do you have any idea what would happen if your husband found out about this?”
She pressed herself closer to him. “Please, Simon, don’t leave me. I like you so much. I think about you all the time. Carlo won’t find out about us, I promise.”
Christine held him so tightly he had to push her away brusquely. “I’m not stupid enough to risk my life. I did some research on Carlo. I hear he’s a very dangerous guy.” He held her chin with his right hand. “Christine, you’re a very attractive woman. However hard I tried, I couldn’t resist you.” He paused for a moment and looked down. “But I have a wife and I shouldn’t be doing this. And you’re married too.” He quickly did up the buttons on his shirt and put on his shoes.
“But Simon, I thought you loved me, how can you …”
He turned to her and said, “Christine, I’m married. I love only my wife.” He opened the door and left.
Chapter 38
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John Melton returned home slightly drunk and tired. He had spent three full hours with his bar friends and had knocked back three large beers. Dizzy and with a smile on his face, he thought about the subject he was intending to teach his students the following day. He had been a teacher for so long that he didn’t have to do anything else but read through the material, which he had done as soon as he returned from work.
He was looking at the ground, thinking, nodding now and then, and smiling to himself.
When he was near home he noticed a man approaching the Pattersons’ house. Straining his eyes, he licked his lips. Why, that’s Simon, he thought.
He ran toward him and shouted, “Hey, Simon, how are you?”
But Simon didn’t turn round. He lifted his hand in greeting and continued on his way.
John was disappointed. Let him go. I don’t care. He stood there watching him for a few more moments, then glumly turned and went home.
The man hoped that no one had heard the crazy neighbor shouting. Maybe it would be better to go home and come back another time. He decided to go to the back of the house and wait there for ten minutes. If he didn’t hear anything unusual, he would enter.
As expected, he found another door at the back and waited there a few minutes.
Later, he picked the lock without any problem and stepped inside. Again he stopped for a few moments and listened. Nothing. Obviously no one had woken up.
He pulled a pair of cotton slippers out of his left pocket and slipped them on over his shoes, pulling a pair of special night vision goggles out of his right pocket. Then, putting on rubber gloves, he made his way upstairs with quiet steps.
He opened the first door and stepped into the bathroom. Swearing under his breath, he left the door open. Opening the second door, he saw his victim was asleep. The intruder’s adrenaline surged and he became as taut as a string.
He approached the bed and focused on the victim. What a shame, he thought.
Chapter 39
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On the way home, Simon thought about what he had said to Christine. Did he really love his wife? Did Christine really mean nothing to him? He was in a strange state, in which he no longer recognized his own feelings. He was scared of Carlo Vucci and was making decisions with his head rather than with his heart.
He wanted to get home as soon as possible, crawl into bed, and fall asleep. He had always been precise and careful in his life; everything had always gone the way he wanted. He avoided conflict and never got himself into risky situations.
Even at school he had been a model pupil who frequently got good grades and was never late. All the teachers liked him. Later on, at medical school, he passed all his exams with the highest possible grades. The professors respected him and liked talking with him. Before meeting Helen he had only had three girlfriends and had always been faithful to them while the relationship lasted. He was a good boy, who never let stupid ideas get the better of him.
What was happening to him now? He had become involved with a rich, married woman. While his wife was peacefully asleep at home, he was knocking around remote hotels and messing about with a mistress. God’s eyes are everywhere, punishment will surely come, he told himself.
As he drove into the garage, he hoped he would not wake Helen. For a moment he thought about the pleasant evening they had spent together. He was happy that they had finally calmed down and owned up to their mistakes. He thought of it as a new start, after which they would get along better and care for each other more.
While closing the garage door, he gazed at the dark sky. The stars, which were bright, captivated him, making him decide to go for a short walk. It was a wonderful night. I should have resisted her. I can’t afford this. Oh, but she’s so beautiful.
He shook his head a few times while thinking of Christine. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever experienced … as if she had a strong magnetic force which drew him to her. He couldn’t explain it to himself. He felt bewitched by her when she looked at him with her miraculous green eyes. He couldn’t look away. It was incredible.
Then his thoughts traveled back to Helen. They’d been married for about fifteen years. There had been many good and many not so good times over the years. Of course, they’d had to adjust to one another, but even so, they’d had periods when they were madly in love and because of that were very happy. Every time they got through a problem, they were even more committed to each other and everything was nicer and better.
But Simon, I thought you loved me, how can you … kept echoing in his head. What had Christine meant by that? Had she totally lost her mind? Does she really love me? He kicked a stick that was lying on the path. He hoped Christine was smart enough not to do anything stupid. He thought about her losing her mind and in anger telling Carlo who she’d been with. Again he felt like he was suffocating. He decided it best to go to bed.
It took him quite a while to find his keys. He’d forgotten that he had put them in the top pocket of his jacket.
In the kitchen, he poured himself a glass of water. Only when drinking did he realize how thirsty he had been.
Then a hollow sound coming from the upper floor made him jump. It was as if someone had hit the floor. He thought of Helen and got angry with himself for not closing the front door more quietly. I’ve obviously woken her.
For a while he stared at the ceiling and then looked for Helen’s favorite chocolate-covered cherries. It’ll be easier for her to go back to sleep, he thought.
He left his shoes in the hall, making his way upstairs in stocking feet. There was that sound again. He stopped on the landing and listened. Judging by the noise, Helen had opened the window. He found that odd. S
he never slept with the window open because she was scared of burglars. Maybe she’s hot.
He quietly stepped into the bedroom and whispered, “It’s me. Sorry for waking you. I brought you some chocolates.”
There was no answer. He felt the fresh air coming from the open window.
“They’ll help you go back to sleep quicker. I’m really sorry I wasn’t more careful.”
Again, nothing.
Maybe she’s gone back to sleep, he thought. I really am an idiot. I nearly woke her again. Putting the chocolates on her bedside cabinet he went to his side of the bed and got under his duvet. He was glad that he was finally in bed and would be able to go to sleep. Cold, he pulled the duvet a little higher.
He turned toward Helen and smiled. She was lying quietly, as if she wasn’t really there. He thought about hugging her and holding her to him, but then changed his mind. Helen didn’t like to be woken and always found it hard to go back to sleep.
He was still cold, so he pulled the duvet up to his nose. He took deep breaths, knowing sleep would soon overtake him.
That’s when he felt something damp on his cheek. He opened his eyes but couldn’t see anything in the dark. He felt the edge of the duvet with his hand. Something sticky and warm stayed on his fingertips. What can it be?
Raising himself, he felt the whole of the duvet. In places it was soaked with something sticky. In the darkness he tried to figure out what it was.
He gathered his duvet and left the bedroom. He turned the light on in the hall.
His eyes widened and he stared at the duvet. With horror, he realized it was soaked with blood and he dropped it immediately.
Quickly, he opened the bedroom door and turned on the light. Before him was the most horrifying scene he had ever witnessed. Helen lay totally still, her eyes staring into space. Her duvet was stained in large crimson splotches. Her distorted face showed that shortly before, she had been fighting for her life.
“Helen!” he yelled and took three steps toward her. “Helen!”
He pulled her duvet off, to see what had happened. He nearly screamed when he saw her throat with a wide cut at the side from which blood was pouring. “Oh my God, Helen!” he yelled again, grabbing the phone.
The receiver slipped from his hand because it was covered with blood.
After that he did everything as if in a trance. Again he picked up the receiver, called for an ambulance and the police. He tried to help Helen, but because of the size of the wound he knew it was hopeless.
It took the ambulance ten long minutes to get there.
The emergency medical technicians found Dr. Patterson clasping his wife, and obviously on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
Chapter 40
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“Where were you between 11:00 p.m. and one in the morning?” asked the tall police officer.
Simon didn’t know how to reply. He couldn’t say he’d been with Christine Vucci. He held his head.
“I’ll ask you again. Where were you on Wednesday, July 9, between eleven and one in the morning?” The officer’s voice was hard and sharp.
“I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a walk. I went to the main park,” Simon replied.
“And you needed the car for that?”
Simon was confused. All he could see in front of him was Helen, lying on her back with her throat cut, her eyes staring emptily into space. We’re so sorry, there was nothing we could do, echoed through his head. That was what they said to him at the emergency room. The cut was too deep.
“I don’t know if you realize that I lost my wife. Am I a suspect?”
The police officer straightened up and said, “When there’s a murder, everyone who was near is a suspect. Please answer the question. If you’re not up to it, we can do this some other time, but sooner or later you’ll have to cooperate.”
“But I already told you everything. What else do you want to know?”
“Why you needed a car to go for a walk.”
“I told you, I wanted to go to the park.”
“Did anyone see you?”
Dr. Patterson thought about a lawyer, but changed his mind, thinking it would only make them more suspicious.
“No one who’d know me.”
The police officer gave an unintentional smile. “What happened when you got home?”
Dr. Patterson was visibly irritated. He felt that the man did not believe him. In spite of that, he said, “When I’d put the car in the garage, I went for a short walk.”
“You went for a walk in the park and then for another walk when you got home? In the middle of the night?”
He regretted telling the truth. It would have been better if he’d said that he’d gone straight into the house. “It was an exceptionally nice evening and I wanted a short walk. Is there anything wrong in that?”
“Did anyone see you?”
“It was night. I’m afraid not.”
“I see.”
“Listen! I didn’t kill my wife. Anyone can see that.” He put his hands to his eyes that were burning with tears.
The police officer waited for him to calm down and then said, “It’s my job to find out who killed your wife. As far as I’m concerned, you can say a thousand times that it wasn’t you.” In a sterner voice he said, “Tell me something I can work with. Where were you between eleven and one?”
“But I already told you, I was in the park. What do you want from me?”
“Just the truth, Dr. Patterson, nothing else. There’s something not quite right with your answer. I can feel it.”
“But I told you …”
The officer opened a folder and took out a large photograph. “Do you know what this is?”
Dr. Patterson stared at the photograph. “Of course I do. It’s a scalpel, the kind used during an operation.”
“Your wife’s throat was cut with a scalpel like this.”
His face showed surprise. Who could have done something so horrible? Why with a scalpel?
“The forensic pathologist is of the opinion that whoever cut your wife’s throat knew what they were doing.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just what I said. The cut is in exactly the right place. The main carotid artery was severed. It was almost certainly done by a doctor.”
Dr. Patterson’s mouth fell open and he stared at the officer for some time. He said, “I think I need a lawyer. I wanted to defend myself, but as you’re convinced that I’m the killer, I see I have no other choice.”
“That is your right. I must tell you that from this moment on you are under arrest.” He took the handcuffs from his belt and put them on Simon’s wrists.
Chapter 41
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In his office, Dr. Miner was talking to a patient who had asked for liposuction for the third time in a year.
“Listen, Mrs. Abbot, you can’t go on like this. At the time of your first operation, I told you that you had to change your eating habits. These operations are not completely without risk. Soon you’ll be asking for an operation every couple of months.”
The thirty-eight-year-old patient was looking at him indignantly. “I am trying, Doctor. If it was easy I’d have done it long ago. I stopped eating white bread and pasta, and I only eat lean meat.”
“You must try harder, and I’ve nothing against your visiting us once a year, but more than that is impossible, I’m afraid.”
“The effects of your operation only last a couple of months, so what can I do?”
“As I said, start eating less.”
The woman got up and grabbed her purse. “If that’s how it is, then good-bye to you. You’re not the only beauty clinic. I’ll go elsewhere.”
“Good-bye.” After she had closed the door, he pressed a button and called the nurse. “Is anyone else waiting?”
“Yes, three patients.”
“Tell them I’m not feeling well. Dr. Tripton will see them.”
“OK, I’
ll tell him.”
He walked over to a container of filtered water and poured himself a glass. His head felt hot. He stood there for some time, leaning on the sink. Then he remembered Monique. Yes, she would help.
Two minutes later he called her.
“I’ve no time today. Sorry.”
“Listen, Monique, I have to see you. Something’s happened.”
“I can’t. I have two important clients. You always call at the last minute.”
“I’ll pay whatever you ask.”
After a couple moments of silence she said, “Maybe we can reach an agreement. It’ll be four times the usual price.”
“OK, when can I come?”
She regretted not asking for more. “It’s best if you come now. I’ll cancel the first appointment.”
“I love you.”
Twenty-five minutes later he was in her apartment. She was wearing a light-green, tight PVC dress. She also had a green cap covering her hair and fluorescent green lipstick.
When Robert Miner saw her, he thought of a great green insect. He said, “I see you’re ready for the swamp.”
She closed the door and angrily bared her teeth. “What are you trying to say? That it’s not OK?”
He quickly hid his smile. Monique was the only woman he was genuinely afraid of. She was at least five inches taller than him and looked fit. Once, she had done thirty lifts in front of him. He had admired the rippling muscles in her back as she did it and thought that she was probably stronger than most men.
