I left Mum and Dad and went back to my own apartment. I couldn’t get over my parents’ obsession. Michael really must have wound them up, and I was seething at his underhand meddling. Mum and Dad were in their early sixties and, after a lifetime of hard work, deserved a peaceful life. Michael really was a pain in the butt. I supposed he thought he was in with a good chance of getting brownie points for his CV or perhaps being recommended for his detective badge if he showed initiative. But, not at my family’s expense.
I glanced at my watch, wondering if I should ring Michael and give him a piece of my mind. He should have told me what he planned on doing. I went to dial his number, but something stopped me. I didn’t actually want to speak to him in the state I was in. Besides, he hated me calling him during work hours and had made me swear never to call the station number direct. He always preferred a text. Something about his boss being a real stickler for keeping personal matters separate from work. I understood that. My own profession had its rules and regulations; the British were renowned for their idiosyncrasies.
I waited until the evening when I had calmed down and worked out exactly what to say. I wondered if Michael was still jealous of Tim. Would he make a mountain out of a molehill and cast suspicions on another man just because he felt piqued?
My thoughts turned to Liam. I hadn’t heard anything, but I wasn’t expecting to. All the same, it had been some days since I last spoke to Michael. When I contacted him, I would also ask him whether they had spoken to Liam yet. I felt edgy and as if I was about to walk into a wild animal’s den.
Chapter Thirty - Christian
It was so easy. The last one had gone like clockwork. The way she clung to him. She opened up, and he recognised her pain immediately, despite her efforts to hide her loneliness. She had been looking for something. Somebody. He soon found a little girl lost, inside. Lonely and confused, really, just like so many others, just craving to be wanted.
He wanted women sexually—that was all necessary to the grand plan. Use her and then punish her. Women like her shouldn’t have expected to get away with it. Using their feminine wiles and then shooting him down with a few careless words.
Justice. That was what it was. The day of reckoning. The first one made her mistake. That was when the rot set in, and he understood what he had to do. Rid himself of all the others who led him on and then ridiculed him. Ridicule…didn’t they realise who he was? What he could do? Most of all, didn’t they realise he had only just begun.
Chapter Thirty-One - Ella
Apart from speaking to Michael later that day, I knew I had to keep my word to Mum and Dad and see Tim first. I wouldn’t have been at peace until I did, and I didn’t want them jumping in with both feet.
Feeling jaded and grubby over the events of the last few hours, I decided to make myself feel better by showering and then changed into a clean blouse and my favourite black evening trousers. All too often, I slouched around in casual clothes, which probably should have been turned into dusters. I brushed my hair until it shone and lay dark and curling around my shoulders and applied the barest of make-up. A final squirt of scent behind my ears completed my simple makeover. I had heard Tim return an hour earlier, and I stuck my head out of my door and invited him in for a drink. He gave me a smile as an answer, so I gathered he seemed happy to accept.
I glanced at my wrist watch. Five minutes before he was expected. My stomach did a funny little jump. Was I nervous? Probably. I was going to ask him point blank what he had done with Mum’s photos and why he kept going out late at night. None of it my business, but as long as I did it in a nice, friendly way, surely he wouldn’t mind?
And why was I worried what he thought? Because…because I was behaving out of character?
Smitten, my friend, Teresa, would have said. It was true. I hardly knew the guy. I was upset the other night. I had spent an awkward time with Michael, dobbing Liam in it, and then when Michael irritated me, I let slip Tim had removed Mum’s actress pictures. Thank goodness he didn’t know about Tim’s nocturnal outings.
No, I was not smitten. But my thoughts kept sliding back to how nice it felt resting my head on Tim’s chest…that had nothing to do with it. It just felt good to be held and comforted. God knows that sort of thing rarely happened to me. I’m the nurse. I’m the one people turn to, cry on my shoulder when they come in for surgery and they’re frightened. I pass the Kleenex; I don’t usually blow my nose into someone else’s pristine white cotton handkerchief. Michael never once offered me any comfort if I was in an emotional mess. I supposed because he considered he was so controlled, he assumed I should be the same.
There was a knock. I glanced in the mirror in the hallway, flicked my hair back, ran a hand down my immaculate trousers and opened the door.
He stood there smiling, his dark hair still slightly damp from his shower. A faint scent of something exotic and musky reached my nostrils. He held something in his hands.
“I didn’t think I could come round without bringing something, and I know you like chocolate.”
I recognised The Chocolate Factory box immediately when I saw it and laughed. “How gorgeous! How did you guess these are my favourites? Thank you, but it wasn’t necessary.” I wondered when he bought them. Had he really purchased them with me in mind?
He followed me in. “Maybe not, but nice all the same. I’m afraid I can’t stay too long, as I have something to do later.”
I had already uncorked a bottle of red wine I knew he favoured and left it lying on the table in the lounge with two glasses.
“May I?” he asked picking up the bottle and, without waiting for an answer, filled two glasses and passed one over to me. I took it and sat down at one end of the sofa.
“Na zdrowie,” I said and felt enormous pleasure when his mouth curved into a smile as he bent forward and clinked his glass against mine.
“You remembered!”
“I do. They are my first Polish words.” Our eyes locked, and I suddenly felt shy, as if by saying that, I was intimating I wanted to learn more. Tim’s gaze held mine for a second or two over the rim of his glass, and then he glanced away. I wondered if he thought I was being forward.
“What have you been doing these last few days?” I asked and pushed a bowl of mixed nuts towards him. “I noticed you went out quite a lot.”
He leant forward and took a handful. “Oh, this and that. Some research and quite a bit of running around. I’ve been up and down the county, so that’s kept me busy.”
Now’s my chance, I thought. How could I lead him into talking about his nocturnal trips without being too obvious?
“You must have been hard at it…you look tired. Have you been burning the candle both ends too?”
Again, there was a tiny hint of a hesitation before taking a sip of wine and rolling it around in his mouth to taste it before replying. “Probably, but then I’ve never been one to stint in anything. You’d probably call me a pedantic old perfectionist.”
“I’m not sure about the old, but there’s nothing wrong in an orderly life. I like being organised, too. I was surprised when I heard you going out late in the evenings, though. It was way past my bedtime.” I laughed as if turning the whole thing into a bit of a joke.
Tim, ever the gentleman, immediately looked concerned. “I’m sorry, did I wake you? I tried to be quiet, but I hadn’t realised at first that the third from top stair creaks. You must have good hearing.”
I shook my head. “I’m not sure what woke me or what I heard, but I didn’t think it was the stair. Maybe it was your footsteps and then the front door closing. I did hear your car leaving, too.” I fleetingly wondered whether I should have mentioned Mum and Dad hearing him, then dismissed it. There was no need to involve them.
“That was probably it.”
He sat back and appeared relaxed, but in reality, by the whiteness of his knuckles on the arm of the chair, I guessed he wasn’t. I pressed on, my hands gripping my wine glass, and feeling guilty becaus
e even to my ears, I knew I sounded false.
“So, what’s the big secret?”
If I was expecting some reaction from Tim, I didn’t get it. He opened his eyes wide and raised his eyebrows. “Secret? I don’t understand.”
“Your evenings out. Am I allowed to know, or is it private? Only you’ve got me mystified.” I grinned to soften my ham-fisted approach at subtlety and tried not to wince.
“Ah! It’s just research again.”
Widening my eyes, it was my turn to shake my head. “Research? In the dead of night?”
Tim took another mouthful of wine, and I noticed the twinkle in his eyes, I wondered if he was playing a game with me.
“Yes, research.”
I sat back and stared into my glass, dismayed because I seemed to have drawn a blank. Tim wasn’t going to divulge anything. “I see.” Then I heard a chuckle and my head jerked up.
“What’s so funny?”
“Your face. I apologise but I couldn’t help teasing you. Yes, in all honesty, it was research. Did you know that all over Surrey there are some amazing stories and sightings of ghosts? You don’t know? You do surprise me, living here, but there are.”
“And I suppose you go out at night searching for them? Um, pull the other one. I’m not a complete idiot.”
He laughed. “It’s true. You can look it all up in libraries or the net. There are so many to choose from, and I’m in the middle of drawing up my top-ten, favourite, Surrey, ghost activities. The readers will love it.” I must have still seemed dubious because he sat forward, his face eager and flushed and continued. He shook his head dolefully at my expression.
“There’s even a few here in Guildford, your home city.”
“I’ve heard about them, the ghost of a vengeful donkey, a girl who haunts a car park and the slaying of a dragon are among the paranormal sightings reportedly seen in and around the city.”
“That’s not all. I’ve been told about a report from the 1960s of a tall girl with grey eyes and grey clothes haunting an unnamed car park in the town centre, plus a Victorian woman seen walking around Guildford Castle. The most famous stories are the sightings at the Angel Hotel in Guildford, which is meant to have lots of ghosts. Nuns have been seen walking down staircases, voices have been heard calling names, and guests have even claimed their bedroom walls have closed in on them. One story from the 1970s is the sighting of a nineteenth-century Eastern European soldier who stared at a couple out of their room’s mirror for twenty minutes. He remained staring at them for so long, the husband actually sketched a picture of the ghost. But the most haunted place is The King’s Head pub on Quarry Street. Dogs have been known to bark at one particular spot which used to be an old doorway, now blocked up. An old woman has been seen standing watching people in the pub, and a young girl in white skips through the place on occasion, too. Even if you don’t believe a word of it, it’s all fascinating stuff.”
I stared at him. “So you’re expecting me to believe you’ve been going out at night in search of ghouls, ghosts and vampires? You don’t strike me as the sort to believe in such nonsense.”
The smile never left his face. “I suppose I am.”
“And where apart from Guildford have you been?”
“Oxted, Horley, East Horsley, Reigate, Kingston, Richmond—that’s a really spooky place and Box Hill. Oh, and Cranleigh.”
I swallowed and felt my face pale. I wasn’t a hundred per cent sure, but was reasonably certain Tim had named all the Surrey towns or villages where an actress had been murdered over the last few years. My hand trembled so much that, as I placed my glass down on the table in front of the settee, I spilt my wine.
-
Chapter Thirty-Two - Ella
My shock and disbelief must have shown clearly, as Tim suddenly moved closer to me on the settee. He put down his glass on the coffee table and stroked my arm gently.
“What’s the problem, Ella? You look like you’ve seen a ghost yourself.”
I gave a tiny shiver and drew back from his touch. “Nothing.”
“Really? You could have fooled me. Is there something you’re not telling me?” He sat back, a frown between his eyes, then his face suddenly cleared. “Good god. You think because I go out late at night, I’m up to something underhand, don’t you?” He paused, his face going through a series of expressions as if he struggled to comprehend what his realisation meant. Then he sat back and stared at me. “Does this have anything to do with your policeman boyfriend, Michael? He made his animosity towards me very clear the other night.” Tim hesitated and I assumed he was choosing his words carefully. “I could hazard a guess why he dislikes me, but I have no proof. Nevertheless, I think he has it in for me.”
“No, it’s not, that is—” I stopped, unsure how to explain or if indeed I should. I hung my head, not wanting him to see the confusion in my eyes, afraid of letting him know I was thinking along those lines.
“Ella, look at me. I’m telling the truth. There’s nothing to be afraid of, I promise you.”
I closed my eyes for a second. I wanted him to go, and yet, at the same time I couldn’t believe he would harm me. But those other women…and now another in Guildford. I felt him move beside me, and my eyes flew open. Tim was standing, facing me, his hands held out in a gesture of hopelessness, and then a flash of inspiration entered his eyes.
“Just a minute. Wait there, I have something to show you.” Without another word, he turned on his heel and left the room. I heard his footsteps click along the hall and enter his own apartment. Less than a minute later, he was back, clutching a notebook in his hands. He turned it over and held it out for me to take.
“Read this. You’ll see exactly what I’ve been up to. It’s all recorded in there.”
I lifted back the cover and read the first entry, and then turned the page. Dates, places, people he had met and interviewed were all there. I felt a feeling of calmness steal over me and raised my head.
“Sorry, only, you know what’s been happening here lately. Three women murdered and when you mentioned those places, it all seemed too much of a coincidence. But I see you’ve visited loads more places too.”
Tim took a step nearer and sat back down. “It’s okay, Ella. I do understand, and you’re absolutely right to be on your guard.” He stopped and a haunted light seemed to reflect back from those dark-blue eyes. I wondered what else he was about to say and what prevented him. He pushed back his sleeve and l peered at his watch. “I have to go out. I did tell you earlier. But why don’t you come with me? Then you’ll see first-hand what I’m on about.”
When I dithered, he nodded. “You’re quite right. You shouldn’t go out late at night without telling someone. Let your father know. Send him a text message, or if they’re still up, pop in and tell them both.”
“You want me to come ghost-hunting with you?” A wobbly sounding laugh entered my voice, partly in relief and partly at the thought of creeping round deserted or not so deserted graveyards in the dead of night.
Tim grinned, and the renewed light in his eyes made him look younger, boyish even. “Yep. You’ll enjoy it. The Guildford Ghost Club conducts tours round the creepiest places seeking out ghosts and their haunts. It’s the oldest ghost club in Britain, so they say, founded by Charles Dickens.”
I laughed, sheer relief overcoming my earlier panicked thoughts. “Okay, you’re on. Let me grab a coat and change into my boots, as it might be chilly.”
While I slipped into my outdoor gear, Tim went back into his place to use the bathroom and fetch his car keys. Ready, I hovered in the entrance to his flat, my gaze lighting on the still empty wall. There was still one mystery I hadn’t yet solved.
“All set?” he asked joining me at the door. “Then let’s go.”
I glanced over his shoulder, emboldened by his earlier admission of his nocturnal adventures, I decided there was nothing like the present. “Mum’s photographs…you’ve taken them down.” I indicated with my eyes what I mea
nt. Tim paused and glanced back.
“Yes.”
“Why? I thought you liked them?”
“I…I do. They’re quite safe. Don’t worry, I haven’t sold them.” His voice sounded odd, guarded.
“I didn’t think for one moment you had, but I am curious.”
Tim held my gaze. “Not now, Ella. Please just trust me with this. I swear I have them still and I’ll put them back in good time. I have my reasons, and if you value our friendship, then please believe in me. It’s important you do. I will tell you everything, but only when I’m ready. I just need a little more time to do something.”
I did trust him. He had shown me his working notebook. Page after page written in his own hand, and it wasn’t only research into the ghost clubs. There was much more on the usual visitor attractions; hotels, stately homes, gardens and restaurants plus a whole array of unusual things to go and experience. If Tim had written it all down as a cover for something else, he had gone to a hell of a lot of time, money and trouble.
“Okay, that’s fine with me. It’s just that the photos mean a lot to Mum and Dad—I think Dad more. You won’t know this, but my father’s mother was an actress, but he never knew her. I believe one of the photos must have been of her.”
Tim frowned and turned to stare at me with renewed interest. “I didn’t know, but it’s interesting. So your grandmother was an actress?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“Then rest assured they’re safe and will be back in place in…a day or so. I promise.”
He slipped his hand into mine as we walked down the stairs and gave my fingers a gentle squeeze. I turned my head to look at him and was surprised when he kissed my cheek. Surprised and pleased. So pleased that I completely forgot to let Mum and Dad know where we were off to.
The Green Room Page 13
