The Green Room

by Faith Mortimer

  ***

  I opened my eyes slowly, a tiny crack through my eyelids. The first thing I noticed were the lights: low tones of blue, red and yellow. My head throbbed and my limbs ached, and as I stretched, I realised that my arms and legs were restrained. I blinked, trying to see in the semi-darkness. I wished I didn’t feel so muzzy-headed. My hands were tied together and attached to the bars of a metal bedstead, my legs spread-eagled apart and attached to the foot of the bed. I noticed my feet were bare.

  This time, I opened my eyes wide and felt the first waves of panic of flood through me. I moved my head and saw I was lying on a waterproof cover on top of a mattress. The room was unlike any I had seen before: unpainted brick walls, no windows and a single darkened doorway off to one side. At the foot of the bed, I noticed a small old-fashioned wardrobe and a few feet away from that, a pale-green wooden chair. But neither of these two items held my attention. Between the furniture stood a mannequin. A dark-haired human-sized doll completely dressed in a long white wedding dress and waist-length veil. Her enigmatic smile and glass eyes glittered back at me, and I felt goose bumps break out all over my skin. Was I dreaming? I shook my head as I fought my way back through a mind which seemed full of treacle, to my last thoughts and remembered leaving my home. Pinprick memories of a journey in my car…and then a bumpy ride along a muddy track. I was running away from someone, but where was I going?

  Michael! I was heading to Michael’s place. I struggled to remember. Surely I arrived at his cottage…I swear I did, but this room was unfamiliar and where was he? My head hurt and every thought seemed laboured, intense. I had definitely been running from…Tim…the murderer…my god. Michael had warned me, told me to go to him and he would look after me. But I didn’t understand. Why was I tied up and lying here? What was going on? Where the hell was I? The room was unfamiliar.

  I struggled against my bonds. I sensed someone was nearby and jerking my head round, it caused it to swim, and I saw nothing but stars. But I knew I wasn’t alone. Tears of frustration came to my eyes. Who was doing this and where was I? I attempted to cry out, and it was then I realised I had been gagged.

  Had Tim somehow caught up with me? Had he known all along where I was heading and somehow intercepted me. Knowing how deviously a serial killer’s mind worked, it would have been easy for him to follow Michael one day, discover where he lived and then deal with him before me. Why couldn’t I remember more? As I struggled against the mattress, I suddenly remembered one of the walks I had taken with Tim. He suggested we walk between Guildford and Godalming; the route took us near Michael’s cottage. He had planned it all along.

  Tim must have grabbed me, knocked me out and then taken me somewhere. He was planning on killing me…I was his next victim. Michael warned me to be cautious. Why didn’t I listen to him? He wasn’t a law enforcer for nothing.

  When would Tim return? He couldn’t keep me here for ever. I almost choked as I tried to clear the back of my throat.

  “Welcome back.”

  This time, my eyes flew open in complete shock. I felt a tug at the back of my head, hands pulling my long hair. He wasn’t gentle and it hurt like hell. He fumbled with something on my neck, and with some feeling of relief, I felt him remove the gag. My mouth felt swollen. I tasted blood from the corner of my mouth, and I groaned.

  “Now, if I remove the cuffs from your arms, will you promise to behave?”

  Cuffs? I was restrained by handcuffs? Tears of disbelief, outrage and fear blurred my vision and I shouted. “Behave? What the hell macabre game are you playing at? Let me go at once or I’ll scream!”

  “Shut the fuck up! No one will hear you down here. I repeat, will you behave, or do I have to forego my fun and shut you up for good before I’m ready?”

  I nodded when he walked round and faced me. The look in his face was enough. Terror finally took hold of me. This was no game, and I had walked headfirst into the trap set for me. “Where am I?”

  “In a cellar. They have the most amazing uses, don’t you agree?” He grinned, and he reminded me of a gleeful schoolboy as a lock of dark hair fell into his eyes. He brushed it away. How could I ever have been attracted to him? “The thing is, what shall I do with you first?”

  I stared. “First?” I asked in a squeaky voice.

  He nodded, his dark eyes glittering. “I plan on having some fun before I finally dispatch you. With the others, I haven’t always had the time to savour my partners. The first I did, but I’ve almost forgotten what it was like, how good it was. The last few have been too rushed. I haven’t had the luxury of a sound-proofed room. Now, which colour do you fancy? I think the dark maroon goes nicely with your hair, don’t you? It was Christine’s favourite. She loved me painting her toe nails. Said it turned her on. I believed it did at first. Not at the end, though. I can still hear her screams. Now just stay still.”

  My stomach contracted violently at his words, and I had to force myself not to cry out. I knew that if I did, he would have killed me instantly. Who the hell was Christine? Bizarrely, I watched almost mesmerised as he produced a bottle of nail varnish from the vicinity of the floor. He unscrewed the cap and calmly began to apply a coat of dark plum-coloured enamel to my toenails.

  I was no student of psychology, but I wondered if I could get him talking, somehow persuade him that killing me wasn’t a good idea. Then I could prolong my life. Maybe someone would find me in time before he strangled me or, if I was clever enough to convince him, to relent. I knew I was clutching at the faintest of hopes but somehow, I had to get him on my side. I couldn’t—shouldn’t—give up. Anything was better than nothing, and we were friends once. He even said he was fond of me. Tears threatened, but this was no time for weakness and I blinked them away.

  “Who’s Christine?” I asked, my voice coming out as a weak treble.

  He paused and glanced up in surprise. “Christine? She was my one and only love. At least, I thought she was.” He blew on the last toenail he was painting. “There. They’re looking great.’

  He was so cold and calm, I could have been having a pedicure in a salon. “What happened to her?”

  He grinned and I thought how cunning he looked. “I killed her, of course. She was my first.”

  I felt my heart shrivel and my skin crawled. I had taken the wrong track once again.

  “And you know what?’

  I shook my head, too scared to speak.

  “You’re to be my last.’

  Chapter Forty-Nine - Ella

  I squirmed, involuntarily pulling my foot away from his hands, and he grabbed at my toes, jerking the last one he had painted towards him. I shrieked out loud and then fell back gasping in pain.

  “Keep still, bitch. I want them to be perfect, it’s very important.”

  I forced myself to keep still as he touched the little toe up, and once he had finished, he sat back, admiring his handiwork. My body was quaking all over.

  “Very nice. Christine would have been impressed. Not that I impressed her when she was alive.”

  I didn’t answer. I had fallen into his trap already. He flicked a look my way.

  “You want to know why?” Still, I remained mute, guessing he was going to tell me anyway and I wouldn’t like his explanation.

  He leaned nearer and roughly grasped a handful of my hair. “Such beautiful hair and just like hers. Christine was insatiable in bed. Loved nothing more than a good, long, hard fuck. Trouble was she laughed at me one time when I was drunk. Said she’d recently been getting more pleasure from her sex toys and butt plug.”

  I blinked, suddenly understanding something. I should have thought about it more. Somehow I found the strength to reply.

  “Recently. You said she said recently.”

  He eyed me with a frown. “I don’t mean recently as in now. I meant when we were engaged.” He glanced over at the macabre-looking doll in the wedding dress. I realised that, as my eyes had now fully adjusted to the gloom, there was a length of knotted rope ti
ed around her neck. Strangled then. He switched his gaze back to me, his eyes glittering as if he had a high fever.

  “We were going to get married. At the time, I was working hard. Studying for an exam. Her thoughtless vile words sent me into a cold rage. I failed the exam, and for that insult, she had to pay for it.”

  Speechless, I looked away. It explained so much. Michael’s obsession with sex and why he wouldn’t sit another police exam.

  “I’m sorry. That’s…awful for you.” I whispered. “I understand what you must have felt, and it explains a lot. I—”

  He jerked his head up, his top lip curled in derision. “You understand? Don’t think you can play the analyst with me, Ella. I’m immune to that claptrap. You are in no way sorry.”

  I bit my lip and tasted fresh blood. “I am because you’ve been hurt. But we’re not all like that, Michael.”

  He stood up and walked a few feet away and then crossed back to the bed, his face looked furious. “Bitch! Shut the fuck up. You’re all the shitty same. She was one selfish little whore. Pimping her body behind my back to make the bloody grade. Oh yes, you can look shocked. She was a crap actress but great at spreading her legs. She never deserved the parts she played, just like all the other actresses I’ve punished.”

  “I know all the other women you’ve murdered have been actresses. But I’m not. You can’t kill me if I’m not an actress. It wouldn’t be right. It would bring you bad luck at the very least.”

  Michael lashed out and caught me a blow across my face. I felt my nose shatter and within seconds, blood began pouring down my chin and dripped onto the mattress cover. I groaned in pain and shock.

  “Dispatched, not murdered, you cow. Besides, it’s in the blood, the genes.” He leered into my ruined face. “Your grandmother was an actress. It was funny seeing your dad in the Green Room that night, only he can’t remember, can he? He recalls seeing your doctor friend, but not someone closer to home. I arrived just as he was leaving. Early dementia’s a handy thing.” He laughed.

  “So you were there.” I croaked but made myself carry on talking. “Dad said there was something else, but he couldn’t remember what.”

  “You coming to me with your little story about your surgeon friend made it all so easy. They’ll find DNA eventually, you know. It was easy to plant someone else’s. I’ve had enormous fun over the years.”

  I felt like screaming, panic was building in my chest. The pain to my face was unbearable, and I kept thinking I was going to pass out. I had to stay conscious, alive.

  “But aren’t you afraid they’ll find yours, Michael. You must have left it on every woman you’ve…punished.” I heard myself croak.

  He smirked. “They only ever take blood off us coppers who are involved in a case, rarely DNA, and I wasn’t ever really involved. Oh yes, Pete gave me a ring. Said how worried you were about me. It was easy putting him straight. A little lie here and there. I’ve kept my head down over the years, never put a foot wrong, never got involved in police scandals or taken a bribe. Mr Squeaky Clean. Pete and I are all square, and I’ve already agreed to take leave, explaining I’m upset because you chose to ditch me. The love of my life. Think I’ll go away somewhere nice.”

  “You’ll never get away with it. Pete’s clever. He’ll cotton on, and Tim tried to tell me not to trust you. He’ll go to the police, he’s probably there right now and—”

  Michael grabbed my hair and twisted it, jerking me upwards towards him. I let out a shriek. His eyes were as cold and dead as chips of granite. His breath felt hot on my face as he spat out his words.

  “And what, Ella? He has nothing on me. You’ve already said there’s a whole load of press cuttings in his apartment along with a map and gun. It’ll be a cinch passing the blame onto him. Plus, it was dead easy removing a few hairs from the driver’s seat of his Merc. He really should remember to lock it up when it’s standing on your drive. You never know who’s going to tamper with it. Plenty of damning evidence, I’d say. He thought he was being clever, but I recognised him. I knew I had to be one step ahead of him. After I’ve finished here, I’ll dump your body along one of your little nature walks. Such a game I’ve been having. Oh, and your mother really should keep a closer eye on her keys to the house. Too bad you won’t be around to tell her.” He let go of me, and I fell back against the hard mattress. I gasped, devastated to learn he had gained instant access to our home whenever he felt like it.

  “You’re insane. Completely mad. I hate you.” I totally lost it and screamed and lashed out at him at him. Spittle flying, my arms flailing as I reached to rake my nails down his hateful, sneering face.

  Michael laughed and lunged at me again, punching me across the face and head. I had forgotten in the short time we had been apart how strong he was. I lay crumpled beneath him, my breath coming in gasps and desperately trying to ward off his blows with my hands and arms. Satisfied with his work, he then stopped and stared down at me, a faint smile across his features, spatters of my blood flecked across his chin. He laughed, and within seconds, tore off my sweater before producing a pair of scissors from beneath the mattress and began evenly cutting through the material of my jeans. Without any underwear beneath my clothes, I lay there naked and bruised on the bed.

  “Well, well, my little sweet pea. Is this the new Ella? No underwear, hey? This I like…it makes it all a whole lot easier.”

  I sobbed and watched in dread as he removed his own clothing. Transfixed, I saw he had shaved every part of his body. He noticed my disgusted glance as it travelled up and down his body.

  “Cool, eh? The new Michael look. All the better for shagging the life out of you one last time. I will say one thing about you, Ella. You always seemed to enjoy our time in bed together. That was where you and Christine differed, except you dumped me, which annoyed me. Not that it mattered in the great scheme of things, as I’m not boyfriend material. Sex is just a means to an end. Oh! I nearly forgot…my little souvenir. Shall I take it now or afterwards? Maybe after, as it’ll make a whole lot of a bloody mess.” He leapt off the bed, went over to the wardrobe and opened the single door. I could see a shelf and what appeared like a glass jar standing on it. He returned to the bed and leered down at me.

  In horror, I shrank back against the mattress as I saw what he held in his hands. One hand held a pair of garden secateurs while the other a jar containing clear fluid and a selection of small coloured items floating in it.

  “Great, aren’t they?” he said with a roar of laughter.

  Toes. Little toes with painted nails in all colours. Oh my god. He meant to cut mine off after raping and throttling the life out of me.

  Chapter Fifty - Ella

  Michael placed his gruesome articles onto the floor and turned back to inspect me, his erection grotesquely huge. “I discovered I enjoyed paraphilia quite by accident. Yes, my darling Christine put up quite a struggle. I thought she enjoyed it at first, but she could only take so much. Erotic asphyxiation. You know I almost lost it with you that one time. Remember?”

  I did. As I thought back I wondered why I hadn’t reported it then. But to whom? Who would have believed me, and besides, nothing happened, and he acted like he was so repentant afterwards. But he wasn’t now. Absolutely petrified, I shrank back into the mattress willing him to drop down dead.

  “So, my sweet pea.” He approached, and I screamed and sobbed as he thrust my legs further apart.

  I know I lost conscious for a moment, felt my life ebbing away and for a time willed my own death, only to be dragged back to the present and valiantly struggled to stay with it…not give in, not yet. I was too young to die, and then as his fingers curled round my bruised and sore neck yet again, I knew all was lost.

  His face wasn’t close enough for me to bite him. He must have guessed I still had some fight left in me, but as he squeezed brutally against my windpipe, the room suddenly exploded with a roar. Shocked, I opened my eyes, but all I could see was a haze of red mist droplets rainin
g down upon me—from the ruin that was once Michael’s head. I screamed and didn’t stop screaming until the medics arrived and sedated me.

  Chapter Fifty-One - Ella: Some months later

  The last few months were full of worry, pain and deep frustration.

  When I woke up in hospital, bandaged, battered and bruised, my nose twice its size and a fracture in my right forearm, I had no recollection of what had happened. Then, as the sedation dosage was cut, I began having the nightmares. It was then I remembered everything.

  A policewoman sat by my bedside, ready to record anything I said and call her superiors as soon as I became coherent enough to give a statement. Once I was fully compos mentis, it all began.

  Between bouts of weeping, I gave as honest an account as I could, explaining that some things were sketchy, but gradually a clear picture emerged. Pete visited me, the ever-present policewoman sitting mutely in the corner, and it was only then I found I could really ask about what happened. Before that, I didn’t truly believe that Michael was dead and that the danger he posed to me and other women no longer existed. It took me ages to recover from the knowledge that I had a relationship with a serial killer, and I know from what Pete intimated that the whole of the Surrey Police force were still reeling from the shock of Michael having been one of them.

  “If it hadn’t been for Timothy Coleman ringing us, we’d never have known,” he explained. Michael, I was told, never did call the Guildford station or Pete that night. Thankfully, Tim had realised the danger and telephoned once he was in his car and on his way to Peasmarsh and Michael’s place.

  “He knew where Michael lived, you know. According to his statement, apparently you mentioned the name of the cottage, and he found it on the map.”

  “I did? No wonder…we went walking in that area once. Tim must have been scouting the area out. I wondered at the beginning if his book writing was all a ruse. Michael swore it was. But why? How did he come to suspect Michael?”