The Green Room

by Faith Mortimer

  I sniffed, but didn’t say anything, thinking I would dig myself an even bigger hole.

  “I’m not going to say any more, or you’ll think I make it my practice to observe you, when I don’t…at least not intentionally. It is what I am.” He put his head on one side. “Something happened and you’re upset. You feel uncomfortable with it. Now, finish your coffee, or it’ll be midnight before we know it and I’ll have your father breathing down my neck for keeping his daughter up all hours. Not that I have anything against that.” His voice died away and he smiled again.

  I knew he was just being kind, and I didn’t want to unburden myself to someone I hadn’t known for long. Besides, I had done enough with betraying Liam. I decided it was time to go. I stood up and Tim joined me.

  “I hope you feel better after your little cry…you’ll feel much brighter in the morning. It’s good to let it out. Things can build up and become harder to deal with the longer we keep them bottled up. You’re tough outside, but inside you’re soft and vulnerable. Things can get so horribly mixed up and out of proportion. I hope when you’re ready you’ll come and tell me everything.”

  I stared up into his face, those chiselled features and dark eyes. On impulse, I reached up and craned my neck to kiss his cheek.

  “Thank you, I hope so too.”

  We wandered down to the door, but I refused to look at the empty wall. I was sure there was some simple explanation for the disappearance of the photographs…but what if Michael was right? What if Tim did have a dark secret?

  I remembered how the photographs had all been of young actresses. Was Tim involved in some macabre way, too?

  Chapter Twenty-Seven - Ella

  I slept badly, I knew I dreamt throughout the night, but in the morning I couldn’t remember anything. I decided to get away from home for the day and clear my mind. I was due back at work in less than a week, and with the flu bug still rampant, a lot of staff were still going to be off sick. I expected my return to be as frantic as ever.

  I dressed and made myself eat some cereal and fruit, washed down with two cups of tea. Talking to Tim about the coast the day before made me yearn for the tang of sea air. We were lucky that Guildford was just over an hour away from the Solent. As a child, I loved being taken to Portsmouth and Southampton. I recalled walking along the sea front, watching the Red Funnel ferries toing and froing between the south coast and the Isle of Wight. I loved all the craft of the sea, from the huge cruise liners, tankers, ferries and war ships, right down to the sailing yachts, fishing vessels and tiny motor boats. I often thought that if I hadn’t fulfilled my dream of becoming a nurse, then I would have joined the Navy or taken some sort of job on or near the sea.

  On this trip, I thought I would visit the River Hamble. It had been years since I last visited the area, but I guessed it couldn’t have changed much. The river was home to hundreds of the sailing fraternity. I remembered both sides of the river being lined with sailing yachts and motor boats.

  The village of Hamble was much the same: a handful of pubs all vying for trade with their attractive menus and snug bars. In the cobbled street leading down to the water’s edge, a few boutiques jostled for space in tiny cramped shops, while the estate-agent windows were full of ‘des res’ bijoux dwellings at extortionate prices.

  I even peered into the yacht-brokers’ windows, dreaming of owning a small sailing boat and exploring the waters around the British Isles before taking off for uncharted seas. Surely that would have been fun, wouldn’t it? I was a strong swimmer and had never been afraid of water. Maybe I should research the possibility of having sailing lessons. I was sure you needed to be a competent sailor before you even thought about owning a boat of any description.

  I wandered along the river front, gaping at all the yachts moored either in the marinas or tied up to buoys on the other side of the channel. Despite it being a weekday, there was a lot of activity on the water, so I found lots to watch. I had already bought a sandwich for lunch and sat on a bench watching all the action in front of me. The sun felt warm on the back of my neck, and after my lousy night, I soon felt drowsy.

  I was jolted out of my daydreaming by my phone buzzing in my pocket. I saw that the caller ID was Michael, and sighing as I pressed the answer button, I wondered what he wanted.

  “Just checking you’re okay,” was his answer. “You know what I said.”

  “Michael, thank you. But you don’t have to keep tabs on me. I’m fine.” I was exasperated. He was never that attentive when we were an item.

  “Okay. Where are you, anyway?”

  “Down on the coast. I fancied seeing the sea.” Not that it was any business of his.

  “Hmm. I thought you’d like to know we’re going to have a little chat with your Mr McAllister as soon as he arrives. Nothing heavy, just check his movements, that sort of thing.”

  I felt my heart pound in my chest. “Will you tell him I told you?”

  “Er, maybe there’s no need for that. We’ll just say it’s a routine enquiry, and we’re checking everyone who has been up on the hill recently.”

  “But won’t he wonder how you found out?”

  “Ella, we have our own sources. Don’t worry yourself. Got to go.” He rang off and I stared at my phone. He hadn’t wasted any time, so his boss must have considered there was mileage in my story.

  I put my phone away and slipped my hands into my jeans pockets. I supposed Michael thought he would gain brownie points if he was instrumental in finding the Surrey Punisher. But why then did I still feel so ashamed?

  ***

  That night was a repeat of the one before, except this time I was woken by the sound of footsteps going down the stairs. I switched on my bedside lamp and glanced at my watch. It was just after eleven. As I lay awake in the dark, I wondered where Tim was off to at that hour and what was so important that he needed to go out so late.

  I slipped out of bed, grabbed my dressing gown and thrust my arms into the sleeves. I then opened my front door and peered down the stairs. I caught the soft click of the main front door closing. I tiptoed down and opened the door a tiny crack; less than a minute later, I heard the sound of a car engine starting up and headlights being switched on. Where was he going?

  I stumbled back to my apartment and bedroom. Sleep evaded me. I pulled the curtains back and slid the window open. Cool air flowed into the darkened room. Resting my chin on my hands on the windowsill, I peered out into the night. I would often do this: get up in the wee hours, enjoy the silence and gaze up at the myriad of stars. But that night, I found no comfort in this familiar, simple act. Sinister shadows seemed to pool around the garden, gathering under the trees and bushes, an ideal place for a killer to lurk unobserved. Irritated by my thoughts, I pulled the window to and swished the curtains shut.

  Shivering, I crept back to bed and huddled under the covers. I couldn’t think what he might be doing leaving home at that time of night. Perhaps Michael was right. Tim wasn’t innocent at all.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight - Ella

  “You’re looking tired, Mum,” I said two days later. We were sitting in her kitchen, sharing a pot of tea. Dad was sitting at one end of the table, the innards of an old clock spread before him. He had spent the best part of the morning taking it apart, cleaning the workings and then miraculously remembering how it all went back together in the right place. He claimed he had nearly finished, and once again, I marvelled at his remarkable memory.

  “And so might I be. I don’t know what our new tenant is up to, but he keeps waking me up.”

  I know my face must have registered surprise as I answered. “Whatever do you mean? I know he plays the cello, but I haven’t heard it lately.”

  “What your mother means is…” Dad growled from his end of the scrubbed pine table. “That young fellow has left the house three nights on the trot and woken her up. Naturally, she shares it all with me, and subsequently, I suffer along with her.”

  I remembered a couple of nights
ago when Tim had crept down the stairs and gone out in his car.

  “I did hear something two nights ago. It was just after eleven. I peeked down the stairs and heard his car start up and go off down the road.” I omitted that I had actually watched him drive off.

  “Yes, there’s no mistaking that engine.” Dad paused, an oiled rag in one hand. “We just wondered what’s so important that he has to leave home at that hour.”

  “Maybe he has a girlfriend who gets off work late. Plenty of people still do shift work you know,” Mum said joining in. “A nurse like you, maybe?”

  I thought a lot of things at that moment. Women being stalked and killed all over Surrey. Wasn’t Tim exploring the original counties of the Doomsday book? I knew Surrey along with Berkshire, Hampshire, Kent and Sussex made up one of the six great Doomsday circuits. Could he have been using his research as a cover for something else? Michael claimed he didn’t write books at all.

  I shook my head in denial. No! Tim was far too nice a person to do anything remotely cruel let alone positively criminal.

  “Why are you shaking your head?” my father asked, peering at me with a puzzled expression on his face. “It’s a reasonable assumption.”

  “No…yes, it is. Sorry, I was thinking of something else.” I knew I had gone sheet-white as I felt the blood drain from my face.

  I felt Mum touch my hand. “Are you all right, Ella?” Her voice seemed to reach me through a sea of treacle.

  ***

  Mum’s face swam into view. Dad’s hovered just behind her. Their expressions ranged from mild concern to surprise to complete alarm.

  “Wh…what happened?”

  “You fainted. Passed clean out and slid onto the floor,” Dad replied. “Here, let me help you up.” He knelt down and with a hand from Mum, they sat me up and then gently led the way over to the lounge, where I sank down onto a settee.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened.” I rubbed my eyes and glanced round the room in bewilderment. Everything felt strange. The flat-screen television was on, the volume turned down low but audible.

  “Don’t be sorry. It happens. The question is why? I don’t suppose you’ve eaten today?” Dad asked, standing in front of the sofa while Mum sat down next to me.

  “Hush, Colin. Of course she’s eaten. She’s just had some of my Madeira cake. I’ll get some water.”

  “Then something we said upset you. We were discussing Tim and his night-time adventures.” Dad glowered down at me and I felt about five years old again.

  “Don’t you like him?” I asked, puzzled at the fierce expression on his face.

  “That’s got nothing to do with it. Do you know anything about him? Apart from what he’s told you.”

  “You sound just like Michael.” I muttered as Mum re-entered the room and handed me a glass of water. “Thanks.” I took a tentative sip as my stomach was still churning.

  “Yes, and for once he and I are of the same opinion.”

  “What?” I gaped. “What’s he been saying?”

  Mum and Dad exchanged glances, and I was shocked into disbelief. “He’s been here, hasn’t he? When was it? I know! I bet it was the day I went down to the coast. What a creep, coming round here causing trouble. Right, tell me what he said.” Feeling stronger, I drank some more water.

  “Now, love, he didn’t say anything to cause trouble, only that you and we should be very careful in view of what’s been happening these last few days.” Mum took the empty glass from me and sat back down. “You know, I think he does really care for you in his own way. He just doesn’t show it.”

  “Yeah, right. But don’t worry, I am careful. Look, Tim’s a perfect gentleman and hardly likely to do anything…” My words died away as I remembered Michael and his little spiel about psychos being just like you and me, and never suspecting anything. I felt sick inside and hugged my arms around my waist. “If you’re really concerned, don’t you think we should ask him what he’s been doing going out in the early hours, instead of making our own assumptions?” I whispered.

  “We would, but for two reasons. One he’s never in lately, and two, we didn’t want to pry. We’ve been working up to it.” Dad shifted from one foot to another, and I thought his actions made him seem shifty. What was going on?

  “What else did Michael say?” I swung my feet down from the sofa and planted them firmly on the floor.

  “He mentioned the photographs.” I gave a brief nod. So nothing I mentioned to Michael was sacred it seemed. I suppose as a copper, he was just doing his job.

  “Your mother and I think it very odd, especially as she told me how much he admired them. You should have said something. But, now that he’s gone out again, we’ve decided to take a look around his apartment. We won’t touch anything; just see if he’s put the photos somewhere safe, you understand. Ella, I know you’re uncomfortable with this, but look at it this way. This man goes out very late at night and coincidently young women are murdered on those same nights. This man appears to take an abnormal interest in some old photographs of young actresses, plus he arrived on the scene round about the time the first woman was strangled. Pure speculation, maybe, but suspicious anyhow.”

  “But Dad, you admire Mum’s photos of the actresses. Why is it suspicious because Tim did too? What’s the difference?”

  “Don’t be stupid, Ella. I’ve always maintained a certain interest. Mine is…very dear to my heart.” He glanced down in panic at Mum who caught hold of his hand.

  “It’s okay, Colin. Ella knows all about your childhood and your actress mother. She’s known for some time and understands your interest in everything theatrical.”

  “Humph. I see. Perhaps you should have told me sooner.”

  “Perhaps you should have!” I retorted and then bit my lip, not liking any of this. Tim was a paying tenant—paying quite a lot of money, actually, and entitled to his privacy. If he didn’t want the damn photos on his wall for whatever reason, then so be it. It still didn’t give us any right to go poking around in his things. No way. I opened my mouth to say all this when something caught my attention on the television.

  I opened my eyes wide in panic and disbelief. “Sssh! Quick turn up the volume.” I squeaked.

  The news bulletin flashed across the screen. I saw a cordoned-off site, police Do Not Cross tape everywhere, a serious-looking and shaken female newscaster holding a mike in one hand, while she kept glancing over her shoulder as if she expected the Surrey Punisher to emerge from the thicket behind and make her his next victim—from what she was saying, I learnt he had just brutally killed his latest prey the night before.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine - Ella

  The Guildford Electric Theatre! The latest victim was a young woman from the same county town of Guildford. A town full of antique and designer-clothes shops, and smart restaurants. With grim fascination, the three of us listened and watched in horror as the barest details were released. There was no doubt about it. The victim was a singer actress who was part of the cast putting on a live musical at the small theatre beside the River Wey. Karen Aristocleous or Kaz Angel as she was known by her friends was found dead early that morning.

  It struck me that the three recent murders had all been within a small radius of Guildford town centre. Chinthurst was only about three miles away. Before that, the other Surrey murders were further afield in the county. I felt my scalp crawl. The murderer seemed more obsessed with the immediate area now. Was he local, or was it someone who had just decided to target the immediate area for reasons known only to him?

  We sat stunned for a few minutes after the bulletin had finished until Dad stood up and switched the television off. He rounded on us, a look of alarm on his face.

  “Another actress murdered last night. Right, I don’t care what you two think, but I’m bloody well going to search those rooms upstairs now. Our tenant’s night-time excursions are just too coincidental to ignore.”

  Mum and I locked eyes. “This is ludicrous. Wait,
we’re coming too,” I said, sliding off the sofa. “You shouldn’t go alone, just…just in case he comes back. I don’t know what we’ll say if Tim catches us, and I don’t agree with this in principle. I think there’ll be some simple explanation, but even so…” I felt thoroughly miserable and in shock. “Christ only knows what you expect to find. I think you’re going off half-cocked, quite honestly.”

  In the end, we double-locked and bolted the main front door so no one could get in without breaking it down. The other downstairs couple were luckily still away in sunny Tenerife, so no explanations were needed. The three of us trooped upstairs, and Mum and I followed Dad around like a couple of pathetic puppies not knowing what to do. Apart from a few items in the bathroom and bedroom, the place was almost devoid of anything personal. I saw Tim’s cello case in one corner, and seeing it there brought a lump to my throat. This was so wrong. Surely, he didn’t deserve this?

  The whole apartment was as neat and tidy as a show house. There was almost nothing of Tim’s in sight, no presence of any kind at all. All we found during our search was a locked cupboard in the hallway and no sign of the key.

  ***

  “See, we’ve found nothing that’s remotely cloak and daggerish. It’s just a locked cupboard!” I said. “It proves nothing except Tim wants his valuables kept safe.”

  “Maybe the photos are in there,” Mum ventured.

  “Then great! It means they’re safe. We can’t very well ask him if he has them stashed away in the cupboard.” I drew in a huge lungful of air. I felt stifled. “Listen, if it makes you feel better, when he comes home, I’ll make some excuse to see him and feign surprise at the photos’ disappearance and ask him. Okay? I bet there’s a reasonable explanation for all this. And no, before you say anything else, I don’t think we should all confront Tim. I’ll do it. Oh! This is all just so stupid!”

  “Okay. But don’t do anything daft.”

  “I will be the very epitome of boring. Don’t worry,” I said when I saw the worried expression on my mother’s face. “I promise I’ll be wary and nothing untoward will happen. Bloody hell, it’s quieter back at work, At least my patients don’t answer back.”