Deadly Practice

by Christine Green

  Neil smiled and in that slow deliberate smile I saw the venom and the cunning. The wine rose in my throat and came into my mouth. I swallowed it back. The hand on my knee had moved up to my thigh. And I knew, as surely as that hot hand crept up my thigh, he was going to rape me … and then kill me.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Neil's hand stayed clamped to my leg, his eyes were staring ahead blankly. I daren't speak, and although my heart hammered away, the rest of my body seemed to have disappeared. I felt as if I were brain and heart and nothing else. I could hear the rain intensify for a moment and then steady to a gentle patter against the roof. Thoughts rushed through my head, not major moments in my life but consoling things like he hadn't raped Jenny and Teresa – no, but he'd attacked from behind. First rule then: don't turn my back on him. Second rule: be cunning. Third rule … third rule … oh God … plan a diversion!

  He suddenly came to life. ‘Kate, let's go to bed. I need to sleep with you.’ He clamped an arm around my shoulder and stood me up. Somehow my memories of all the rape accounts I'd ever read came flooding back. He didn't have a knife or a gun, he hadn't hit me yet. He hadn't even threatened me. Yet I was terrified. I wanted to live. If I fought would it be worse for me? Would it inflame him, make him more determined to have me? If I was passive would I seem like the ideal victim just waiting … to die afterwards. He'd told me he had to have his own way, he meant that literally. He couldn't bear to be thwarted. I had to appear willing.

  As we walked towards the partition behind which lay the bed, I stumbled and cried out, ‘My ankle, my ankle – I've twisted it!’

  He stopped, saying calmly, ‘I'll carry you, Kate.’ The ease with which he picked up my sturdy body was an awesome reminder of his physical strength. He laid me gently on the bed. ‘I'll massage it for you.’

  ‘No,’ I said sharply, then added with as much pathos as I could manage, ‘it's so painful, I'll do it myself, but thanks anyway.’

  I began massaging and snivelling slightly as if I were trying to be brave. Keeping my ankle at a very odd angle I urged him, ‘Look, Neil, see, it's deformed. I think it's broken.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ he said. ‘It's just sprained. Lie down, I'll raise it up on a pillow.’ As he reached behind my head for a pillow I threw myself off the bed and rushed towards the door. I didn't have a chance. He felled me in an instant and began dragging me back by my ‘sprained' ankle. ‘You lying devious bitch. I thought you were different—’ He broke off to haul me on to the bed. This time he wasn't gentle. His hand rested on my throat. ‘Make a noise and I'll kill you now.’

  He sat on the bed, one hand on my throat staring at me. I tried desperately hard to breathe quietly. Strange, I thought, how in situations like this decisions still had to be made. Life or death decisions. Should I keep looking at him? Should I look away? Would close eye contact be considered staring and inflame him more, or would it make him hesitate?

  ‘I can't breathe properly,’ I said, eventually. ‘I'm choking.’

  He didn't answer but lowered his hand to my right breast where it rested like a lead weight. I guessed that to even try to fight back now would lead him into an angry frenzy. I had to try a different tack. I placed my hand over his and began gently caressing it. ‘I really like you, Neil, let's just enjoy ourselves, shall we?’

  His response was sudden and terrifying. ‘Whore … tart … bitch!’ He struck me across the face and began tearing at my track suit as if trying to pull the actual fabric apart. His hands were ripping down the bottom half, then swiftly, one hand came to rest on my neck – squeezing. I was choking, suffocating, drowning, all at once. There was blackness in front of my eyes – my life didn't flash before me but I did see Hubert and I knew he'd never forgive me for being so stupid.

  My hands flailed looking for a weapon, I grabbed wildly, pulling off the sheet that covered the boxes and then throwing it over Neil's head. In that split second I read the words on the box – in blood-red crayon in the right-hand corner, it said BALL COCKS. Ball cocks and not bollocks was the last thing Jenny saw. It was here she was attacked … I felt the blow to my jaw as if my head was being torn from my neck and then nothing …

  Nothing, until I found myself being pulled upright and dragged along. I allowed myself to slump as if I was still unconscious. I wasn't going to make it easier for the bastard. My jaw throbbed, blood trickled from my mouth, my neck ached painfully and I was sure all my teeth were wobbling free inside my mouth. The thought of being put in the boot of the car was as terrifying as if he were going to bury me alive. And I knew the cavalry wouldn't be coming in the final reel with the trumpeter sounding the charge.

  The rain on my head and face revived me; I slumped further down. He dragged me up. I started to retch. He relaxed his grip slightly, giving me what I knew would be my last chance – we were near the pond. As I bent over making loud puking noises I grabbed the garden gnome and thrust it at his shin with all my strength, scraping downwards. He staggered back with a howl of real pain. Then I began to run. I knew he wouldn't let a mere bashed tibia stop him. I ran as fast as I was ever likely to run, out towards the duck pond and the village.

  I turned, he was coming after me, limping but quite fast. I ran on and on out past the duck pond into the main road. When in doubt, my mother told me, scream Fire! Summoning all my strength I did just that: ‘Fire! Fire! Fire!’ He was closing on me. I continued to scream. ‘Fire! Fire!’ It seemed ages before there was any response but suddenly cottage lights were going on, a window opened. ‘What's up?’ a man's voice carried loudly in the night.

  ‘Ring the police,’ I yelled. I heard a car driving up. I was in the middle of the road but I didn't care. I couldn't do any more. I slumped to the ground.

  It was the lights that woke me. At first I thought it was the car. Then I focused. Helmeted men stood round me and the lights belonged to a fire appliance. I moved my head slightly – three fire appliances.

  ‘Don't move, love. You're all right now. The ambulance is on its way.’

  ‘And the police? He tried to kill me.’

  ‘There's no fire then, love?’

  I tried to shake my head but my neck hurt too much. The fireman took off his jacket and I thought he would put it round my shoulders but he didn't, he laid it across my legs. My track suit bottoms were gone. I was sitting there in full view of the Dunsmore and District Fire Brigade in my up-to-the-waist type sports knickers, and I hadn't shaved my legs. As I tried to laugh at this predicament I felt my front tooth loosen and put out my hand to catch it. I wouldn't be smiling any more for a while; it was only a crown, the stump being a little fang left to peg it on. I wanted to laugh again. Relief surged through me like a quick blood transfusion.

  The ambulance men arrived then, checked me over minutely like mechanics looking for faults, put me in a neck collar, swathed me in blankets and then lifted me into a wheeled chair. The ambulance man was just delivering his reassuring speech when a shot rang out. Please let him be dead, I thought. We all looked in the direction of the Amroth house. Then as if rallied by the sound of gun fire the police arrived. They were armed and began surrounding the house at speed. A loud-hailer was quickly fixed up and a sonorous voice proclaimed, ‘This is the police. Come out with your hands up.’

  I giggled at the originality. I was just hysterically happy to be alive. Nothing could daunt my euphoria. Until I saw DCI Hook coming towards me. By now the ambulance men were considering lifting me into the ambulance. I closed my eyes. Perhaps Hook wouldn't say too much if I acted half dead.

  ‘How is she?’ he asked the ambulance man.

  ‘She'll be fine. A bruised chin, bit of resulting whiplash from a punch on the jaw, general bruises, a tooth knocked out, a bit of shock. Could even have a hair-line skull fracture – otherwise no probs, vital signs satisfactory.’

  ‘You have to hand it to her,’ muttered Hook. He obviously thought I really was half dead or deaf. ‘She's a private investigator and she's dedicated. You have t
o admire that even though you know she's a misguided amateur and a bit on the thick side. She'd walk on fiery coals to nail a suspect. Some coppers wouldn't do that.’ ‘What's going on inside?’ asked the ambulance man. ‘Should I wait for a while for more casualties?’

  ‘Why not? Shouldn't be long. The marksmen aren't going to grow old waiting. He could be dead anyway.’

  I sat there with my head stuck up in a collar, swaddled in blankets, feeling liked a trussed turkey and Hook had the nerve to call me a bit on the thick side. I wanted to explain but I knew I couldn't. I'd been the victim of a pretty face with attractive pheromones. But I should have guessed, with my experience I should have recognized an oddball when I saw one. Other women had been taken in by him, though, and I was extremely lucky to have survived.

  The man on the loud-hailer was getting impatient. His speech was getting faster now and he began to sound more and more like British Rail. It was almost unintelligible.

  I opened one eye thinking Hook had gone. He was standing over me. ‘You should have left it to us, Kate. We were on his trail, we just didn't have enough evidence to convict him. That's the trouble with amateurs, they think police work is all intuition and derring-do but it's painstaking gathering of evidence that matters. All you've gathered, Kate, is the pain. You should pack it in before you get killed. Poor old Humberstone is nearly demented, you know. When we told him we suspected Neil Amroth he was already getting out the right size coffin for you.’

  ‘Liar,’ I said calmly, hoping it wasn't true. I smiled to show I didn't believe him.

  ‘Ye gods!’ he said, reeling back a step. ‘You've grown a fang.’ I closed my mouth quickly. With a hand covering my lips, I said, ‘Please ring Hubert and tell him I'm OK.’

  ‘I'll tell him you're in the casualty department. Good luck.’

  Hook strode off and suddenly searchlights were trained on the Amroth house, flooding both the house and the duck pond with light. It had stopped raining now. I guessed it was all over, for minutes later armed men began to move from hidey holes everywhere.

  I watched the action as though it had nothing to do with me, as if it were a film set. After some minutes Charles Amroth was brought out. I could see blood seeping from his chest, his ashen face corpselike in the eerie light.

  Armed police shared our ride to the general hospital. They'd been assigned to take down Charles Amroth's ‘dying declaration'. He seemed to be dying but he certainly wasn't declaring anything. I watched as the ambulance men speeded up his intravenous fluid, took his vital signs and then after a few moments begin to intubate him.

  Watching the fight for Charles's life I felt my euphoria sag with my adrenalin levels. I began to shiver and I couldn't stop and then I began to cry.

  Even on the trolley in the Accident and Emergency department being examined by a young female houseman I couldn't stop. ‘It's just a reaction to shock,’ she said kindly, as she examined me limb by limb. I apologized profusely between sniffing.

  A young nurse held my hand until Hubert came. ‘Your dad's here,’ she said brightly.

  Hubert stood and stared at me for a moment. He'd gone a paler shade of off-white. ‘I'll get your dad a chair,’ said the nurse quickly. She came back immediately with a chair. ‘There you are, Mr Kinsella – rest your legs.’

  Normally I would have found that funny. But I didn't that night. Hubert, patting my hand awkwardly, said, ‘You do look bad, Kate. How's Dr Amroth?’

  ‘Worse. He's shot in the chest.’ I began to cry again. After a moment's sniffing and gulping I managed to say, ‘He was deranged, Hubert. Why didn't I recognize him for what he was?’

  ‘A nutter?’

  ‘No, a psychopath. I'm giving up the agency. Near-death experiences aren't all they are cracked up to be. Every case I do I seem to land up in Casualty. They'll be charging me soon.’

  ‘That's more like it, Kate.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘You've stopped crying.’

  I had, but I didn't feel any more cheerful. ‘Hook said I was as thick as a plank.’

  ‘I'll thump him for you,’ said Hubert, trying hard to jolly me along.

  ‘I was taken in, Hubert, by a pair of sparkling blue eyes and tight Levis. If I can't be objective I shouldn't try to be a detective. I once did my mental nurse training, I mean I should recognize a …’

  ‘Madman,’ suggested Hubert.

  ‘No. Someone with psychopathic tendencies.’

  ‘Well, you didn't, did you? Do you think they'll let you out tonight?’

  ‘I'm not staying anyway, Hubert. I want to go back to Farley Wood.’

  ‘You'll do as the doctors tell you.’

  ‘I'll do what I want, Hubert. Discharge myself if necessary.’

  An hour later I didn't have the pleasure of discharging myself. They hadn't got a bed for me anyway. According to the staff nurse I spoke to, Charles Amroth was undergoing surgery and his chances were fifty-fifty.

  I borrowed a blanket and Hubert ushered me to his car and insisted I stayed in his flat overnight. By now I was too tired to argue, too tired to cry. I just wanted to be left alone.

  Hubert made me Horlicks which I hate but forced down and put me to bed in his spare room. I kept the bedside lamp on and lay staring at the ceiling. Occasionally the sound of the phone ringing or of Hubert opening the door startled me.

  ‘Go to bed, Hubert,’ I managed to murmur.

  The next time I looked up and saw a black shape at the door I screamed. Hubert was wearing a navy dressing-gown but in my half-asleep state I thought he was Neil poised with his shotgun. ‘For God's sake, leave me alone.’

  ‘Just checking,’ he said. ‘I'm staying on guard tonight.’

  ‘Whatever for, Hubert? Just stop fussing and leave me alone.’

  He mumbled something. Wearily I sat up in bed. ‘What's going on?’ I asked.

  ‘He's not dead. Neil Amroth isn't dead. He got away.’

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  ‘I don't believe it. I just don't believe it. He was in the house. No police force could be that careless.’

  ‘I'm telling you he got away. It was dark at the back of the house, he slipped away across the fields. The fire brigade coming first may have had something to do with it. Gave him time to escape.’

  ‘I'm staying here until he's found then. I'm not moving from this bed.’

  Hubert reassured me that he'd stay on guard and I tried to get back to sleep. A Group-4 cock-up I could understand but not this. I slept fitfully, aware of every bruised muscle, my jaw stiff – my fang conspicuous in my mouth like a nasty foreign body. And my crowned tooth missing. I dreamt that Neil was still coming after me.

  When the phone rang the next time I sat bolt upright and alert.

  ‘It's for you,’ said Hubert from the doorway. ‘It's Inspector Hook.’

  Stiffly I negotiated my way out of the bed. I'd aged twenty years in an hour. If Hook had rung to harangue me I decided there and then I was giving up the agency. I picked up the phone.

  ‘I'm sorry I have to ask you this, Kate, but we need you.’ I raised my eyebrow at Hubert. ‘We've got young Amroth holed up with his mother and David Thruxton. He's threatening to kill them both unless you put in an appearance.’

  ‘Why me?’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Two reasons, Inspector Hook. One, I'm scared to death of him. Two, I've lost my front tooth.’

  ‘It is a lot to ask. But this time we won't miss him. And Roade has got your tooth.’

  ‘I'll need Super-glue.’

  ‘Expense is no object. Will you come?’

  I hesitated. For all my flippancy, I was really scared. When I didn't answer Hook said, ‘Please, Kate. He's calm at the moment. We don't want anyone to get killed, do we?’

  No, we don't, I thought, least of all me.

  ‘I'll come,’ I said eventually. He began to give me instructions for finding the way but I cut him short. ‘I do know how to get there,’ I said. It was only a ve
ry minor triumph.

  I dressed quickly, refusing to look in a mirror. Hubert was as jumpy as a hungry flea and I felt sick with apprehension. He drove me to the village and we hardly spoke, but as we neared the cottage he thought it an appropriate time to give me advice.

  ‘Now don't rile him, whatever you do. Agree with him. Don't try to be heroic …’

  ‘Just going there is heroic. I feel sick, my mouth's dry, my legs are reduced to just the marrow and you say don't try to be heroic. Never again, Hubert, never again.’

  Police cars were parked well back from the cottage, where lights glowed softly, and although the sky was beginning to lighten I could see no armed police in evidence.

  Hook appeared from the shadows to greet me. ‘Thanks for coming, Kate. He's calm at the moment.’

  ‘I can't see any armed men,’ I said, my eyes scanning nervously the trees and bushes that enclosed the cottage.

  ‘They're well hidden. This time we'll be sure.’

  ‘What about my tooth?’

  Roade appeared then, smirking as he handed me the measly crown plus some Super-glue in a large envelope. I stuffed it quickly in my pocket. I wasn't going to be doing much smiling anyway.

  A few moments later a senior officer from the Dunsmore CID spoke over the loud-hailer. ‘Neil. This is Superintendent Archer. We have Kate here for you. She's willing to come in but only if you throw out your gun.’

  I whispered to Hubert who stood by my side. ‘He's an optimist.’

  It seemed a long time before anything happened. Then the front door opened to reveal Neil standing behind a cowed David Thruxton. With an almighty push Thruxton was sent sprawling to the ground. No one moved. The voice of Superintendent Archer cut through the silence.

  ‘Keep on the ground, sir. Just crawl towards us. That's it, sir.’ He crawled forward. As he came nearer I could see one eye was swollen and closed and blood trickled from his mouth and nose.

  Eventually he was half dragged behind a car and out of my view. Hook disappeared for a time, to talk to David Thruxton and then returned saying, ‘Neil's agreed to pass the gun out as soon as you get to the front door. All I can say is, our marksmen are well positioned and, well … it's up to you.’ I nodded. My mouth was so dry. Hubert stepped forward. ‘Kate. Come on. I'll take you home. He's not worth it.’