“It has its moments, but I tend to agree. Michael does get intense at times, though.”
“He does. Maybe things came to a head when he was put on the Guildford work party involved in this latest round of murders.”
Pete’s head jerked up. “The so-called Surrey Punisher? But he wasn’t. He’s remained in Godalming full-time.”
“You mean he hasn’t been dealing with door-to-door enquiries or helping search the murder sites for clues?”
“Nope. Did he say he had?” Pete blinked and leant forward in his seat.
I waited a few seconds before replying. Michael must have been acting on his own, possibly seeing himself as some sort of vigilante hero.
“I’m sorry, Pete, but I think I must have got the wrong end of the stick, as I could have sworn he said he’d been chosen. He seemed so happy about it. He’s always wanted to be a detective.”
Pete grinned. “Either you completely misread him, or he’s been having you on. This doesn’t sound like our Michael at all. He’s great on the front desk and, believe me, has never expressed a desire to being a detective. He’s in his comfort zone and safe where he is. He doesn’t even want to be promoted to desk sergeant. Won’t sit the exam. If anything, he’s always been known as being bone idle down in Godalming.”
“He once told me he had sat the exam some years ago. But I never knew why he failed or why he didn’t take it again.”
“Funny, I never knew that. Maybe I should give him a ring, invite him out for a beer and have a chat.” At that moment, Pete’s mobile rang, and he stood up to answer it, moving over to a quiet spot in the room to take the call. He returned to our table a minute or so later, looking grim and running a hand agitatedly over his short fair hair. From his stance, I guessed he was about to leave.
“Sorry about that, but it’s work. I’m afraid, I have to dash. A bit of an emergency. Is there anything else, Ella? Only, as you’ve probably guessed, I’m heavily involved in helping solve these murders, and we’re working round the clock.”
“Oh, okay, I assumed as much. No, there’s nothing I can’t work out for myself. Michael must have told me he was working with you, as it sounded good. He does try to wind me up sometimes. I’m sorry to have wasted your time, but it was nice seeing you again. I hope you catch the killer soon. Michael told me the murderer has chosen Guildford as his targeted place. He said you think he’ll strike again and keeps warning me to be careful.”
“He’s absolutely right to warn you and I’m glad he has. No woman is safe as long as the murderer is free. He shouldn’t have mentioned our conclusion about Guildford, though. We haven’t broadcast it and certainly don’t want a panic among the public. Please keep it to yourself.” Pete paused and chewed his bottom lip for a second, then continued. “There is one last thing I think you ought to know, Ella. A few days ago, after the Chinthurst Hill murder, Michael got over-zealous with someone he invited in for routine questioning. I can’t go into detail, but he interviewed this person without his boss being present. There was another constable, but he wasn’t in the room at the time when Michael leaned on this guy heavily. He didn’t thump him or get carried away like that, but the witness complained, and Michael’s been cautioned. I believe you might know this person. Maybe I shouldn’t be telling you any of this, but it all shows you how Michael acted out of character that day. I’m assuming, if he’s on leave, this is all part of it. Just tread carefully, Ella. It’s a tough job we do, and we all handle it in different ways. When I get a moment I’ll try to find out what’s happening with him. Don’t worry, I’ll tread lightly.”
As Pete walked away and I fiddled absent-mindedly with my empty coffee cup, I realised I hadn’t told him about so many things. I learnt that Michael’s arrest of Liam and his questioning had led to a caution, and then there was his latent hatred of Tim. Thinking of Tim, I wondered where he was that evening. And where was Michael come to that? Pete assumed he was now on leave. Sick leave, I suppose you would call it.
I suddenly felt a bit guilty. I realised Michael had been abusive that one time—but it had only happened the once, and he had been overly apologetic after his misbehaviour. Had I been too hard on him, when all along he was trying to cope with pressure while at the same time playing the vigilante hero? If he was as tense as Pete had said, he needed care and understanding. I hadn’t been particularly nice to him, especially when he had taken so much time and care to ensure I looked after myself. I certainly hadn’t been grateful in any way. Was I thoughtless and selfish? Was this why I was still single. Perhaps I didn’t deserve anyone.
Chapter Forty-One - Ella
Back home, Tim’s apartment was in darkness, likewise my parents’, and I suddenly felt incredibly depressed and miserable. It was as if my whole world was falling apart, teetering on its axis, ready to topple over and fall into oblivion. It wasn’t just the murders, which were constantly on my mind. I seemed incapable of conducting a happy private life. No wonder. My vivid imagination threw me into too much trouble and sent men running: Liam, Michael and no doubt Tim, as I had spent hardly any time with him lately. I cast a thought back over the years, recalling the disastrous dates with boyfriends. Nothing bad happened, but then again, nothing remotely good.
I decided to take an invigorating shower before eating, spending time afterwards filing my nails and putting my hair up off my shoulders for a change. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, realising I had lost a fair amount of weight over the previous few weeks and liking what I saw. It suited me, as did my hair, which I had coaxed into an old-fashioned kind of chignon held in place with hairpins. Perhaps I should spend more time on myself: buy some new clothes, take more exercise. It was too easy to let things slip.
Feeling better for making some sort of basic plan, I set about preparing my dinner. I was barely hungry, but as I hadn’t eaten much lunch that day, I knew I had to have something. Dieting was all very well but food meant energy.
I decided to make beef stroganoff, as it was simple, nutritious and delicious. I had a small piece of sirloin steak in the fridge and a carton of sour cream. Minutes later, I fried an onion and garlic together, tossed in the strips of steak to sauté, chopped up the parsley and then poured the cream over my cooked meat. A small amount of rice and sliced carrot completed my meal, together with a small glass of Chianti. I knew I shouldn’t have been drinking alcohol if I wanted to lose more weight but decided I deserved it after my enlightening talk with Pete.
As I ate, I couldn’t get certain things out of my head. I had the impression Pete had been only slightly concerned about Michael’s health, and apart from Liam’s ill treatment in Godalming station, he hadn’t mentioned anything else which made me think Michael had done anything unduly wrong. I wondered about Liam’s questioning and wondered if he had blown everything out of proportion. Pete hadn’t mentioned any other witness, and Liam was Irish, something of a drama queen and known to create something out of nothing. He too suffered from overwork, I mused.
I speared a succulent piece of meat and scooped up some rice with it. I was confused and, if I wasn’t careful, sorely in danger of mixing things up. In fact, the more I thought everything through, I convinced myself Theresa was correct. Michael might have been in love with me, after all. It would have accounted for his uncharacteristic and jealous behaviour. Just great. This was the last thing I wanted, and if it was true, what else could I expect from him? No, it was crazy. Michael wasn’t the type to pursue a broken relationship, and anyway, he told me he wasn’t bothered.
As I cleared my plate away and tidied the kitchen, my mind kept returning to the locked cupboard in Tim’s rooms. I still wondered about the mystery of the photographs. When I was with Mum and Dad, snooping round the apartment, I felt bloody awful. It was more than trespassing—it was almost like rape itself. I was so glad when we found nothing except the locked cupboard, and at the time, I almost ran from the place.
Tim had said he would explain when he was ready. But, truth be told, I w
anted to know right then. I was fed up being fobbed off. Such a simple, trivial thing had become huge because it was secret, and without that knowledge, finding the answer seemed paramount to unearthing the key to the truth. What that truth might have been, I had no idea, but one thing was sure. I couldn’t rest or be happy until I solved the mystery. It was like an itch I couldn’t scratch…unless I took matters into my own hands, and I had the means to do just that.
What I hadn’t pointed out to my parents when we snuck into Tim’s place was that the cupboard was an exact replica of the one in my apartment. This too had a key, and I was positive my key would fit Tim’s.
There. I said it. My God. What if it did? What the hell would I find inside if I unlocked it…which I knew I would? Mum and Dad were away, as were their immediate neighbours, and Tim was out—London, he said. I could easily lock the downstairs communal door just in case any one of them returned while I took a quick peek.
Chapter Forty-Two - Ella
I knew Mum and Dad kept a complete array of door keys to each of the apartments in the building, and as I had a key to their own place, I soon found the set to Tim’s. With trembling hands, I inserted the key in the lock and pushed the door back slowly. I recalled when I had returned home a few days earlier and saw Tim standing in front of his living-room window, his outline silhouetted against the back light. With this thought in mind, I made sure not to turn on any lights and found my way into the flat with a small torch. I shone the beam along the hall wall and stopped in my tracks, gasping in surprise. I weaved the torch up and along, counting as I went. Tim had replaced all but one of the missing photographs. But why leave one unhung? Seeing the photographs made me pause. Should I leave and wait for him to explain as he had promised he would? Why was one still missing?
I moved along the hall. The locked cupboard looked identical to the one in my home, and if my hands shook before, then this time, as I clicked the lock open, I felt my whole body tremble and a feeling of nausea rush to my head. My mouth dried in fear, and I asked myself again, Should I really be doing this? I gave in to my curiosity and opened the cupboard.
Inside the dark recess, I found a zipped backpack made from stout, heavy-duty material. I lifted the bag from the cupboard; it felt fairly heavy, and I laid it on the floor. I placed the torch on the floor, my shadow towering up behind me. My head looked different, and I realised it was the pretty but ridiculously fussy hair style I had been playing around with earlier.
I turned my attention back to the bag. After contemplating it for no more than a couple of seconds, I unzipped one of the minor compartments. Inside I found a folded map. Knowing of Tim’s fondness for walking, I assumed it to be a common ordnance survey map, so I ignored it and unzipped the adjoining compartment.
This time, I found a small collection of newspaper cuttings which I removed carefully from the bag and spread out on the floor. At first it took my eyes a few seconds to adjust to the light from the torchlight, but there was no mistake. Each cutting related to one of the murders attributed to the Surrey Punisher; they were all there and more: Barn Theatre in Oxted, The Courtyard in Chipstead, Horley’s Archway, the Nomad in East Horsley, the Yvonne Arnaud in Guildford, Cranleigh Arts Centre, The Guildford Electric Theatre, all murders I had read about and by peeling back the newspaper articles one by one, at least three other rape and murder victims which had taken place a few years before. Had the murderer really killed as many as ten women?
My eyes wavered. I felt dizzy and leaned back, resting my head against the wall. If I hadn’t been squatting down, I would have fallen over in shock. After allowing my breathing to return to normal, I swallowed, took a deep breath and collected the cuttings together gingerly. I replaced them back into the bag in the order I had found them. Whatever did it all mean? Was Tim the rapist murderer, and was this a record of everyone he had killed during his vile career? Even though I felt ill at ease, with my heart hammering in my chest, I knew I needed to check out whatever else lay in the bag.
I returned to the map and spread it out flat on the floor. To my horror, I learnt it wasn’t an innocent hiking map, but a map showing the extent and location of every one of the Surrey Punisher's murders, together with dates. A red-dotted line ran between the locations, with emphasis on the immediate Guildford area. I gasped when I realised just what I was staring at and shook my head in disbelief. As I did so, I dislodged some of the hairpins holding my unruly locks in place and a section of my hair creation fell down across my face. I brushed it away in irritation before gently refolding the map back into its original form and went to replace it back into the compartment I took it from. When it didn’t slide in as I expected, I realised there was something in its way, and my fingers closed on something hard and oblong in shape.
Even before I removed the photo frame from the protective padded cover, I knew it to be the missing photograph. But there was something else. As I slid the glass-covered frame out, another photograph fluttered to the ground. I knew it wasn’t one of my mother’s creations, as I was staring at a coloured photograph, and Mum specialised in black and white. But I thought I somehow knew the attractive dark-haired woman. The more I stared, the more it bothered me. I turned the photo over; there was no name on the back. It was definitely more modern than the others. Who was she? And then I twigged. It was the same woman, only in this photograph her hair was short and she wasn’t wearing any makeup. She looked younger and more vulnerable somehow.
I felt my hair stand up on end along the back of my neck. A modern photograph. Was this the Surrey Punisher’s next victim? Not Tim. Please, not him. I couldn’t believe he had done any of this. He seemed so nice and calm. A doctor.
I shoved both pictures back into the bag. There was only one compartment left to explore, and when I unzipped it I fell back, shocked and alarmed. A handgun was the last thing I was expecting to find.
Oh my god. Michael warned me. He was right all along. Psychopaths often present a completely normal persona to the world. What in the world was I to do now?
Chapter Forty-Three - Ella
The sudden ringing on my mobile phone broke into my stunned thoughts. I reached into the pocket of my dressing gown and read the display. Tim!
“Hello.”
“Ella, I’m standing outside the main door, wondering why I can’t get in. It seems to be bolted on the inside. I assume you’re at home as your lights are on. Can you please come down and let me in?” He sounded irritated and out of sorts.
I went into meltdown for a second before realising I had time to stall him if I didn’t panic. “Really? Sorry that must have been me. Give me a minute to get dressed. I’ve just got out of the shower.” I cut the call and stared at the gun still lying inside the bag compartment. What the hell should I do? If I took it, he would soon discover it missing and presume Mum and Dad had duplicate keys to the flat. Their lives could have been put into immediate danger. If I left it, would he use it on somebody? My mind in a whirl and thinking of my parents, I decided to leave it in the rucksack and put everything back where I found it. After locking the cupboard, I crept back along the hall and slipped out of the door of Tim’s apartment, letting it close softy behind me.
I rushed back into my own place, dragging the pins from my hair as I went. Once my hair was free I dunked my head under the bathroom tap, ensuring my hair was completely wet. I completed the pretence by draping a small towel around my shoulders and went towards the stairs to let Tim in. He would never know I had been in his place as long as I kept my cool. As I neared the bottom of the stairs, I caught my foot in the hem of my dressing gown and found myself tumbling headlong down the stairs. I gave a shriek of fright and pain as I landed on my right hip. Something hard was digging into me.
“Ella! What’s going on? What’s happening?” Tim pounded on the front door.
I stood up and rubbed my back and hip. Thankfully, I was near the bottom and hadn’t injured myself badly. Even so, my ankle ached as I limped over to the door.
“Sorry,” I said after drawing back the bolts. I confronted him. My heart was thumping in my chest. He seemed more puzzled than annoyed. “I slipped down the last few stairs. Nothing broken except my mobile. I must have landed on it.” I held up my phone which was seriously bent, the case broken in several pieces.
“Jesus, I wondered what was happening. Are you okay? Do you want to sit down? But why bolt the door in the first place? Has something happened to frighten you?”
I glanced away and instead, stared down at my phone. The sim card was probably okay, but the phone itself was beyond repair. “No, no. I must have done it without thinking. Mum and Dad are—” I stopped. Did he know they were away for a few days? Should I have alerted him that he and I were alone in this part of the house? My face must have shown my alarm, as his hand shot out, and he grabbed my forearm.
“What is it, Ella? Stop playing with that thing. It looks completely smashed, but we can easily get a replacement phone tomorrow. You’re looking very pale and seem frightened. Terrified, even. Please tell me. You know you can trust me.” His voice had softened into a calm placatory tone.
But that was the whole problem. I had opened the door to him without thinking. I was in such a panic, worrying about him finding me in his flat, I hadn’t thought it through. I was alone in a house with a monster. Only, I didn’t want him to be a monster.
“I’m fine. I just have a terrible headache. I decided to have an early shower and go to bed to sleep it off. I’m sorry about the door—it must have just slipped my mind. Before you and the others downstairs arrived, we always bolted the front door. Sorry, just a habit, I’m afraid.”
Tim peered into my face, and I wondered if he believed me, as his expression didn’t alter. In fact, he seemed even more concerned.
The Green Room Page 17
