Embellished Deception: A Psychological Suspense Novel (The Crime Files)

by Netta Newbound

  "I thought I hadn't seen them around recently," Dad said.

  "They're never here anymore. I’ve told them they should sell up and enjoy the money."

  "Probably worried about doing that in case they become sick in their old age. It's all well and good gallivanting all over the globe, but it's better to be in your own country if you need medical attention."

  "I never thought of it like that," Simon said.

  "It comes to us all at some time or other. I'm not knocking the Portuguese hospital system, but it's no good if you don't speak the lingo and can't explain what’s actually wrong with you."

  "I guess not." Simon headed for the door. "Okay. Sorry, but I'm going to have to scoot. I'll be here on Sunday, and I'll take you out to dinner before Grace has to be at the hospital."

  "You don't need to, Simon," Dad said.

  "I want to—that is if you don't mind me being there?"

  "Of course we don't mind," he said.

  Simon looked at me for confirmation.

  "No, I don't mind." I shook my head.

  "Great—see you Sunday then. If you need me for anything before then, you know where I am."

  He reached into his jacket pocket and brought out a brown envelope.

  "What's that?" I asked as he handed it to me.

  "I see you haven't been using much money from the account."

  "I didn't know if I should. I haven't worked for ages."

  It's our money, Geri. Also, I'm getting the house valued. Whatever it comes in at, I intend to pay you out your share."

  "Really?"

  "You didn't expect me to rip you off, did you?"

  "To be honest, I hadn't given it much thought."

  "Well, rest assured I won't. And with a bit of luck, I might have some idea of value by Sunday."

  I nodded.

  "And one last thing—it'll probably be best if I transfer any large amounts directly into an account, so if you get the chance, call into the bank to open an account."

  "I’ll do it this week. Thanks, Simon."

  He kissed my cheek and shook hands with Dad before seeing himself out.

  "He's a great guy, him, you know?" Dad said.

  "I know, Dad, but ..."

  "Your mum told me. It's a crying shame though—he obviously still thinks the world of you."

  "I know—but sadly, that's not enough.”

  He gripped my hand with both of his. "At least it seems as though he's going to do the right thing by you, which goes a long way in my eyes. The amount of times I've heard about people trying to fleece their ex's ..." He shook his head. "As if divorce isn't bad enough—but divorced and penniless must be bloody terrible."

  "Dad, I have something else ..."

  "Mum's also told me about the baby."

  I opened my mouth to speak.

  "Don't worry, I won't say a word. But I think it's lovely. You'll be a fantastic mum."

  "I hope so, Dad."

  "I know so."

  Chapter 25

  The rest of the day flew by. I busied myself with a touch of tidying. I cooked a roast chicken and prepared the vegetables for dinner. Mum still hadn't shown, but I could hear her pottering around upstairs. I took a cup of tea up for her, but she was in the bathroom, so I left it on the sideboard in her bedroom. I thought it best to leave her be.

  Dad was out in his shed. God only knows what he did out there, but it occupied his mind which could only be a good thing right now.

  I'd been to Auntie Beryl's a couple of times, but there was still no sign of Carl. His mobile phone was going straight to voicemail. I didn't know what else I could do for him except to wait.

  A light rapping at the door jolted me from my thoughts.

  I was startled to see James Dunn standing on the doorstep, his hands deep in his jeans pockets, and he was looking down at his feet. His hugeness made him stoop his shoulders slightly, and his dishevelled hair and unshaven appearance looked as though he'd just got out of bed, even though my watch said 4pm.

  "Hi James."

  "Geri, I hear Vinny's arrested Carl again."

  "Yeah, last night." I was suddenly worried.

  "I've just received a tip off from a friend of mine who works in the Kirkby Mayor station. It looks as though they plan to charge him with the rapes."

  "That's utter nonsense. Carl's no more capable of that than I am."

  James' lips twitched. "Maybe he is slightly better equipped to have committed the crimes than you."

  "You know what I mean," I said, irritably.

  "For the record—yes I do. I don't believe for one minute that Carl's the rapist. But they obviously have some reason to be able to pin it on him."

  "I haven't a clue why anyone would want to pin it on him." I shook my head. "Do you wanna come in?"

  "I was going for a pint if you want to join me—I thought we could put our heads together and try to help your mate out."

  "Course yeah—let me just get my coat." I ran inside and scribbled a quick note for Dad, grabbed my coat and bag, and met James out on the village green.

  We fell into step and walked in silence for a few minutes.

  "So, how have you been?" he asked.

  "Not too bad. Although we had some terrible news yesterday. Mum's got a brain tumour."

  "Grace?"

  I nodded.

  "Shi-it!" James’ Adam's-apple bobbed up and down. "Can they do anything?"

  "Yes. Thank God. She's having an operation on Monday."

  "I'm sorry about that. Honestly I am, and I'm sorry to have bothered you about all this—you've got enough on your mind." He stopped and turned back in the direction we'd come. "Come on, I'll walk you back home."

  "No! Don't be silly. Mum's not even shown her face all day, and I've been going stir crazy waiting for some news of Carl."

  "Are you sure?"

  I nodded.

  We continued across the green towards the pub.

  "I knew you and Carl were friends, but when I saw you with Vinny last week ..."

  "There was never anything between Carl and me. We're just good mates."

  "And you and Vinny?"

  I shrugged. "Nothing serious, although I think he's had his nose pushed out of joint. Maybe he's taking it out on Carl."

  "That's what I suspected," James said.

  The pub was almost empty, apart from two old men playing dominoes. We ordered drinks from the bar, an orange juice for me and a pint of lager for James, then we sat in a booth.

  "So tell me all you know about Carl and Vinny?"

  I shook my head and groaned. "Carl and I are just friends. Honestly, nothing has happened between us. We just get on really well. Right?"

  "Right," he said.

  "I moved into Auntie Beryl's house with him. I needed some space with Mum acting so strange."

  He nodded.

  "As you know, I had a date with Vinny, which turned out to be the biggest mistake of my life. Last night I was with Simon, in Kirkby Mayor, when Vinny pulled up and was behaving like a mad man. He had Carl in the back of the car. I couldn't help but think he was punishing him because of me."

  "I can't see how Vinny's superiors will allow that. He'd have to have something solid on Carl in order to be able to charge him."

  "You think?"

  "Pretty positive actually." He took a long swig of his beer and then wiped his mouth before pulling a notepad from his pocket. “So, here's what I know about the rapist." He flicked through the pad. “He's tall—at least six foot. Every victim has confirmed this. How tall would you say Carl is?"

  "Around my height—five seven, five eight, something like that."

  "Not six foot though, that's for sure."

  "Definitely not," I said. "What else?"

  "The biggest thing we know about him is that he has some kind of limp. He moves clumsily on his size eleven feet and shuffles."

  "You could never accuse Carl of being slow—in fact he's like a bloody whippet—he hardly sits still. He does have b
ig feet though, not sure of the size.”

  "He has size eleven." James consulted his notepad again. “In fact, he's the only person with size eleven feet that I've interviewed. It's mostly size eight and nine in the village—even Vinny is size nine.”

  "But that doesn't make Carl a murderer just because he has the right sized feet. Anything else?"

  "That's all we have physically. However, it's enough to convince me Vinny has the wrong man."

  "Me too," I said. "Is there anything else about the case you're able to share with me?"

  "Everything else I have is already public knowledge. He gets off on his victim’s distress. The more they scream and cry, the more he seems to enjoy it. The fourth victim, Catherine Simpson, had read about this and refused to make a sound. He rewarded her by almost cutting her fucking head off."

  I gasped. The room began spinning, and I had to steady myself with the table.

  "Geri, are you alright? I didn't mean to upset you."

  After a few deep breaths, I was back in control. "I'm okay." I sipped at the orange juice.

  "So ... you and Simon are friends again, I take it?"

  "Yeah, I guess. All this with Mum has certainly put things into perspective somehow."

  He nodded. "It'll do that alright," he said, his lips in a tight line.

  My stomach fluttered. God he was handsome, even without a shave—in fact, he was even sexier because of it.

  I turned away. I'd made a promise to myself and my unborn baby, and I was damned if I was going to allow a man to make me break it—even if he was delicious.

  "I've questioned most of the village. There is nobody who fits that description living here. It's such a mystery. All I can come up with is the rapist comes from out of the area and travels into little old Cumberside to commit his crimes, which makes no sense at all. Strangers tend to stand out like a pimple on a pumpkin around these parts—yet nobody has reported seeing anyone hanging around the crime scenes. I’m positive the attacker is a local, but ..." He shook his head and shrugged. "This has me stumped."

  "Have you slept at all?"

  "Is it that obvious?" He scratched his head and smiled.

  "Just a little bit." I laughed and reached across the table to pat down his messy hair. "Okay," I said. "What does the guy wear?"

  "All black. Black jogging bottoms, black long sleeved t-shirt, black balaclava and size eleven black caterpillar boots."

  "Any DNA left behind?"

  "Nothing. He uses a condom which he takes away with him. No hairs or anything have been left behind."

  "Sounds like a professional to me," I said.

  "Me too. It's all too tidy, you know? Normally, this sort of attack is frenzied but not the case here. It's as though everything is meticulously thought out."

  I glanced at my watch and got to my feet. "Shit, it's five thirty—I'm supposed to be cooking dinner. I'll have to go."

  He also got to his feet. "Oh well, thanks for taking the time to go over it with me. It often helps if I have a chance to jaw about it."

  "Anytime," I said. "Don't you talk to Shelly about anything?"

  "Shelly? Oh, no—I don't really see her. That night was just a one-off."

  Relief caused my stomach to twirl. It hadn't just been me he had a one-off with—he was a serial one night stander.

  "I'll walk you home."

  "You don't have to. It's only a couple of minutes away."

  "Nevertheless, I'll see you to your door," he insisted.

  As we left the pub, James pointed across the green towards Beryl’s cottage. "What's going on there?”

  Three police cars were parked on the road, and a police officer stood in the gateway.

  I set off at a trot, James at my side.

  "What can I do for you, Miss?" the officer asked as I approached.

  "What's happening?" I tried to sidestep him.

  He held out his hands towards me preventing me from going any further. "I'm sorry. I can't allow you to enter while the officers are on the premises."

  "But I live here."

  "We have a warrant to search the property, Miss. Everything is above board, I can assure you."

  "But all my things are inside."

  "Don't worry, everything will be left as we find it.

  James put his arm around my shoulders and steered me away. "Just let them do their job, Geri."

  "But I need to get my things. I don't have a key to get in."

  "We'll sort it out later. They won't let you remove anything until they've finished."

  I knew he was right and so allowed him to steer me towards home.

  "You really spread yourself about a bit, don't you, Geraldine?"

  We whirled around to see Vinny Martin coming out of Beryl’s cottage. I walked towards him. James hung back slightly.

  "What's that supposed to mean?" I snarled.

  "Oh, you know. One boyfriend in the slammer, another fawning all over you on the street, and your poor, unsuspecting husband is, once again, nowhere to be seen."

  "You're disgusting. I don't know what I ever saw in you," I hissed.

  He laughed and dangled a key towards me. "You'll be needing this, I believe."

  I snatched the key from him. "What the hell's going on, Vinny? You know as well as I do Carl has nothing to do with the bloody rapes."

  "That so?" He raised his eyebrows cockily and laughed, glancing around him before continuing. "Between you and me, we've just found the attacker’s clothing stashed in a plastic bag in darling Carl's bedroom."

  My hand flew to my throat. I was speechless.

  A hearty laugh escaped Vinny before he turned his back on us and headed for his car. "Just give the officers time to finish up before entering the property, if you don't mind," he shouted over his shoulder.

  James came up behind me and put his hand on my shoulder.

  "Did you hear that?" I asked, my eyes still on Vinny.

  "Every last unbelievable word."

  Chapter 26

  Grace had spent most of the day in her room. She knew Geri and Simon had come by and she heard Simon leave, but still stayed where she was. It was hard to think straight with everybody talking and looking at her with that sympathetic expression people used for these occasions.

  Max had been a darling, fussing around her and trying to do everything, but she didn't want him to. She wished he'd just carry on as normal.

  She was glad of the cup of tea Geri had brought up to her. And after a shower and applying a bit of makeup, she was ready to face everyone.

  Just as she was about to head down the stairs, there was a knock at the door. Grace scurried back to the bedroom and looked out of the window. She almost cricked her neck trying to see who it was—James Dunn, looking slightly worse for wear.

  Moments later, Geri and James left, heading across the green.

  As she reached the stairs, a lovely smell of roast chicken wafted up, and she realised she was ravenous.

  When Geri came home, Grace had already made the gravy and put a sponge pudding in the oven.

  "Hey Mum, I was going to do that." Geri kissed her on the cheek.

  "I know, love, but I'd rather keep busy. Anyway, you've done all the housework, I see." She held her hands out, glancing around the room. "Either that or your dad has done it, and I don't believe that." She laughed.

  "No, it was me." Geri smiled. "Although Dad did offer to help."

  Grace rolled her eyes and they both began laughing.

  "Oh, Mum." Geri pulled Grace into her arms.

  "Less of that, now—come on. Go and tell your dad his dinner’s ready."

  The rest of the week went by in a kind of a haze. Geri was out of sorts, something to do with bloody Carl, but she refused to tell Grace what he'd actually done to upset her.

  On Wednesday, she went into Carlisle with Geri and bought a couple of new nightdresses for the hospital and a new toiletry bag.

  On Thursday, Max took them both to visit her mum who lived in a nursing home
on the outskirts of Carlisle.

  Sarah had been in the nursing home for the past five years since her husband, John, passed away from a heart attack. She was a sprightly eighty-four-year-old, but she had dementia which was one of the reasons she wasn't able to live with them or Grace's brother or sisters.

  She'd been devastated when she was made to leave her little bungalow, and she'd kicked up one holy stink. But since then, she'd been doing really well.

  On the day they arrived, there was an entertainer in the communal lounge, and they had a sing-a-long to all the oldies. It was the best Grace had seen her in a long while.

  As they were leaving, Grace gave her mum a hug, and she didn't want to let go. It was then it dawned on her. She was preparing herself for the worst by saying her goodbyes. She decided to call her sisters and brother when she got home as she hadn't spoken to them in a long while. They were all busy with their own lives.

  Grace decided she wouldn't tell them the news. How do you tell someone you have a brain tumour and expect them not to worry? No, she would wait until after she'd had the op. There was nothing anyone could do anyway.

  And before she knew it—it was Sunday.

  Simon arrived to take them all to dinner. She tried to get out of it—there were a million and one things she needed to do, but he wouldn't take no for an answer.

  However, it filled her heart with joy to see Simon and Geri getting on so well, just like old times, so she didn't mind too much.

  She'd prepared a few dinners for the freezer which had annoyed Geri, who insisted she'd look after her dad. But Geri had been looking quite peaky herself recently. She'd started to show. Not too obviously, but her bust had filled out and her backside was definitely rounder. Grace thought she looked better for a few extra pounds, although Geri would never agree. Girls nowadays seemed obsessed with being stick thin. In Grace's day, curves were all the rage, and the girls looked much healthier and happier than they did nowadays and that's a fact.

  She took one last look around the place. It could do with a quick vacuum but there was no time now, it would just have to do.

  Chapter 27

  Dad was crying uncontrollably, but I couldn't be of any comfort. I just sat there staring numbly at him.

  Simon walked in the room balancing three paper cups of tea. He hurriedly put them down on the table and put his arms around my dad like it was the most natural thing in the world to do.