Michael dialled Toni's landline as soon as Amanda left the house and it rang and rang. Usually, after several rings the machine would cut in. Her mobile was off too.
She had been pissed off at him for moving back home, however when he spoke to her on Sunday she'd seemed all right again. They'd arranged to meet last night, but her apartment had been in darkness when he got there. She might still be punishing him, but he didn't think so.
He planned to go back once he'd dropped the children off at the day-care.
Michael sat on the brick wall at the front of the building and dialled her number again. Still no one home. He couldn't hear the ringing inside, which he thought surprising.
Pulling himself to his feet, he walked back up the short path, but instead of turning to the right and going up to Toni's front door he turned to the left.
The adjoining apartment shared not only the front gate entrance but also the rear patio. He knocked at the door. Just as he'd given up he heard a shuffling from within.
A large, Jamaican man opened the door. He had a mass of dreadlocks tied in a colourful band on the top of his head. He eyed Michael with suspicion and stepped forward, scanning up and down the street before Michael had a chance to speak.
Michael cleared his throat and stood upright. "Hi mate. Sorry to bother you but I'm trying to get hold of Toni, your neighbour. Do you happen to have seen her at all?"
"Na, man." The words were pronounced clearly and slowly and were tinged with a strong accent. "Not seen her in a whi-ale."
Michael felt uneasy. He would give this guy a wide berth if he saw him on the street, but he hadn't got much choice right now. He was worried about Toni. "I wonder if I can ask you a favour."
The Jamaican man cocked his head to one side, squinting one eye.
"I know you share the back balcony with my friend. Could I come through so I can look in her window? I'm worried about her."
The man sucked his teeth slowly before stepping back into the hallway and gesturing for Michael to enter.
The apartments were the same layout except the opposite way around, like a mirror image. However, that's where the likeness stopped.
Toni, a self-confessed neat freak, had everything in its place. Pastel colours throughout created a sunny, warm home. This apartment was very gloomy.
Huge dark flags hung over the patio door instead of curtains. Stale smoke filled the air—and not cigarette smoke if his memory served him well. A half-naked white girl lay spark-out on the dingy sofa. Her matted, long brown hair looked as though it hadn't seen a brush in years.
Michael struggled with lifting the flag while trying to open the door. The guy helped him by unhooking the heavy blanket-like flag off the curtain rail. This allowed the sunlight to flood the room, causing the girl on the sofa to moan in annoyance.
Glancing around the room now, Michael realised his first impressions had been wrong. The apartment, although basic, was clean and tidy. A coffee table in the middle of the room confirmed his suspicions about the smoke—a huge spliff was perched on the edge of the ashtray. He saw the suspicious look pass over the guy's face again. Michael hastily turned back towards the door.
All the apartments in the block shared a balcony with one other. Toni's and the Jamaican man’s were ground level, but the block went twelve storeys high. A tiny, makeshift picket fence was placed halfway across the balcony. Michael stepped over it.
A thick lace curtain covered the patio door. Toni never pulled the curtain across. She had a pair of heavy fabric curtains that she closed at night. Michael placed his hands to the glass to shade the sun. It took a couple of seconds for his eyes to adjust.
The glass coffee table had been shattered and glass covered the whole carpet. Then he noticed a large smear of blood on the door surround that led through to the hallway.
Michael let out a cry that came from the pit of his stomach. His breakfast followed it.
The neighbour ran out and screwed his face up in disgust as Michael vomited in Toni's pot plant.
Wiping his mouth, Michael sat back on his haunches to rummage through his pockets and pulled out his mobile phone.
Adam answered on the first ring. "DS Stanley."
"I … it's Michael Flynn."
"Yes, Michael, how can I help you?" the detective said with a bored tone to his voice.
"Quick! You need to come over. I think it's happened again."
"Michael, calm down! Where are you?"
He gave Adam the address. "Please hurry. I think she's dead."
"Is it Amanda?"
"Wha …? No, it's Toni. I'm going to break in."
"Michael, listen to me. Don't do a thing until we get there. Do you hear me? Michael, do you hear me?"
"Okay, but hurry."
Toni's neighbour turned a funny shade of green. His Jamaican accent had vanished and was replaced by a cockney one. His deep, slow drawl also was replaced by a higher pitched, faster-paced chatter. "Did you call the pigs’ man?"
"I knew there was something wrong. There's blood."
"Did you call the fucking pigs, man?"
"Yeah—they're on their way."
"You're fucking kidding me, man!" The man ran indoors and began banging and clattering. He shouted at the girl, "Jess, get your lazy, fat arse up—the pigs are on their way."
Michael stepped back over the fence and walked into the room. "I'll wait outside for them."
The man ignored him and continued throwing stuff from a kitchen drawer into a Tesco carrier bag.
The girl was still in the same position on the sofa. Michael walked out of the front door and sat back on the wall to wait for Adam.
Uniformed police arrived first, followed by an ambulance.
Michael was in a daze. He had no idea how they gained access to the flat, but it took them a matter of seconds.
A gentle, young policewoman placed him in the back of a police car to wait for Adam.
Michael watched as they crawled all over the property like worker ants—heads down and focused. The policewoman was knocking on the neighbour's door though Michael knew it was a waste of time. The Rasta and the skinny, scraggy-haired girl had left seconds before the police arrived.
A dark-grey Mondeo pulled up. Adam jumped out and crossed the road in a couple of strides and entered Toni's flat. Michael had a strange feeling of déjà vu. Just over a week ago he'd been sat in another police car waiting for Adam to emerge from a murder scene.
Several minutes later Adam opened the car door and indicated for Michael to get out.
"Is she …" Michael asked, terrified of the answer.
"I'm not sure. There's a lot of blood and evidence of a struggle, but we can't find a body. When did you last see Miss Sellers?"
"The other night—Monday, I think. I haven't seen her for more than a week. We had a fight because I'd gone back home, but I spoke to her on Sunday and arranged to come over last night. That's where I was going when you called at the house."
"You will have to come to the station—we need more details and a statement from you."
"I can't. I've got to collect the children from day-care soon."
"Could you ring Amanda? If she can't pick them up I'll arrange for an officer to collect them. It's urgent we get this done right away."
Michael dreaded Amanda's reaction when she found out he'd left the children alone. Well, not alone exactly—there were lots of staff and parents to keep an eye on them, but Amanda would still go berserk. He reached into his pocket for his phone.
Chapter 35
Amanda
Something niggled at me, but I couldn't put my finger on what it was. Meeting Judy had shaken me up. I knew she'd been ill, but I hadn't been prepared for how ill she actually was. Just a few weeks ago, when she asked me to fix up her parents' place, she'd said she hoped to move into it soon.
But without some kind of miracle, I didn't see how she would go anywhere ever again, except maybe to the hospital.
The ringing of my phone on the passenger seat
brought me out of my daydream. I hit the loudspeaker button. "What do you want, Michael? I'm driving."
"Amanda—any chance you can collect the children from day-care?"
"What do you mean? Did you leave them there?" My voice had raised an octave.
"I had to. It's Toni. I think she's dead—they need me at the police station."
I hung up and glanced at the clock and realised the kids should have been collected ten minutes ago. I wasn't too far away, I put my foot down.
My mind raced, wondering what had happened to Toni. I remembered something Judy said and it made me feel sick. She'd questioned who else had access to my emails, and Michael was the only other person. Now, the connection that linked Toni to my family was also Michael.
It didn't make sense. Michael couldn't have had anything to do with the murders. He never knew of my past. Unless, of course, he'd found the newspaper clippings under the stairs.
Or maybe this latest death was a coincidence and had nothing to do with the other murders at all.
As I parked, I noticed several groups of people emerging from the day-care and hurried in to collect my babies.
There was no way I could face going home. The murderer no longer seemed fussy who he bumped off. I feared we would be next on the hit list.
After buying a selection of sandwiches and cakes from a small bakery, I drove to the other side of Pinevale.
Sandra seemed pleased to see us. "What a lovely surprise," she said as she showed us through to the kitchen.
"I'm sorry for just turning up at your door, Sandra. I had nowhere else to go."
"Don't be silly. I told you the other day—I'm here for you. Stay as long as you need to."
She sat the children on a rug in front of the television, setting out a picnic-style lunch from the paper bags I'd brought from the bakery. A few minutes later, she and I were sitting opposite each other at the breakfast bar, a pot of tea in between us.
"Michael just called me. He said that Toni has been murdered."
Chapter 36
Adam
Adam screwed up his face as he looked at the snivelling mess in front of him. He wouldn't have minded except that he hadn't even got started yet.
"When did you last see Miss Sellers?" he asked.
"I told you. It was last Monday, after Dennis' body was found. She got angry with me for moving back home. We were meant to meet up last night, but she didn't show." Michael said, and another bout of sobbing followed.
"Harden up, man!" Adam snapped. The more time he spent with Michael, the more irritated he got. He found it hard to understand what Amanda ever saw in him.
"How long have you been seeing her?"
Michael shrugged. "Four months or so."
"When did Amanda find out?"
"A few weeks ago. Why? Do you think she …?"
"This is the second time you've accused your wife of murder, Michael. Do you honestly think she's capable of it?"
Michael shrugged again. "She hasn't been herself lately, you know that."
'Yes, I do, but I also know she has good reason for that—don't you think?" Adam was now standing in front of the desk. He put both hands down in front of Michael, bent forwards and glared at him, a sneer lifting the corner of his mouth.
Michael sat back on his chair trying to get as far away from Adam as possible. His eyes were wide and wary.
Adam asked, "What did Amanda say about the affair?" Did she ever threaten Toni?"
"Yes, once when she was around at our house. Amanda went berserk and threw her out."
"Again understandable, wouldn't you say?
"Yes."
"Do you love your wife, Michael?"
"I … er … I don't see what that has to do with anything."
"Answer the question, please."
"I used to."
"So in other words you don't love her anymore?"
"No."
"When did you stop loving her?"
"After I found out about her past. She kept it from me all this time. Disgusting."
"How can you say that? It wasn't her fault."
"No, but it makes me fucking sick, thinking of her having sex with her own dad."
"He raped her when she was only a child." Adam shook his head, baffled by the mentality of this ignorant arsehole. "How did you find out about her past?"
"She told me the night you came to the house looking for Dennis."
"So you were already having the affair? Not the actions of a loving and devoted husband."
Michael bent his head, staring at the table.
"How did you feel when you first found out?"
"I told you—it knocked me sick."
"Were you angry?"
"I guess."
"Angry enough to commit murder?"
"Hey—back up a bit. What are you saying?"
"I'm saying, Michael, that I think you found out about Amanda's past earlier than you’re letting on, and that you took revenge on Dennis, Annie and Brian."
"Don't be so stupid! How could I know? Why would I want revenge anyway? It wasn't me they messed with."
"Do you have access to your wife's emails?"
"Yes. We share an email address. What does that have to do with anything?"
"Whoever has access to the emails also had access to the key code for the house in Kingsley. The house where Dennis' body was found."
"I think I need to call my solicitor."
"Good idea."
Adam knew he wouldn't be able to keep him for much longer without charging him. He also knew Michael didn't have the balls to commit murder. But Adam had to look as though he was doing something, and why not have a bit of fun at Michael's expense before releasing him?
After a thorough search on Miss Sellers' apartment, it seemed as though someone had smashed the lamp through the glass coffee table, cutting themselves in the process. The blood, although a lot, was in only a couple of places, nothing frenzied. In fact, the place was looking less and less like a crime scene. They found her mobile phone in the apartment, and the land-line had been unplugged from the wall. No sign of her handbag, coat or car.
Nothing turned up at Brian's house, not one fingerprint or stray hair—which didn't surprise him. No doubt they were dealing with a professional. Never in all his time as a homicide detective, had Adam seen such vicious attacks executed with such meticulousness. It was as though two people were involved—one responsible for all the planning and another to carry out the actual attacks.
They'd found a large stash of child-based porn in Brian's shed as well as a collection of girls' underwear. Part of Adam couldn't help but feel grateful to this killer or killers, for getting these worthless and revolting creatures off the streets.
As his mobile phone rang, he sighed and sat down at his desk. “Hi Mum.”
“Oh Adam, I’m glad I caught you. Auntie Betty’s birthday is coming up and they’ve asked me to go and stay for a few days.”
“You should, it’ll do you good,” he said.
“Do you think? But I’ll miss all my programmes. Our Betty doesn’t watch the TV.”
Adam laughed. “Oh, Mother, you’re funny. I’m sure it won’t kill you to miss a few episodes of Coronation Street.”
“I know it’s not important to you, Adam, but I don’t have much else in my life you know. Since my one and only son has moved to the other end of the country.”
“I know, Mum.” He sighed. “I tell you what—if you want to go for the day I can take you. I just need to know the dates. I promised Matt I’d come for a visit anyway.”
“Oh, would you? It would be lovely to see you, thanks, darling. I couldn’t imagine having to go all that way on the train—not with me bunions.”
“I’ve got to go, Mum. I’m working. Speak soon.” He hung up, the last thing he needed was a full on blow by blow account of her bunions.
He felt better. Though she drove him to distraction, a couple of minute’s conversation with his old mum had him grounded and fe
eling lighter than he had in a while. He chuckled as the phone rang again.
A stunning, voluptuous redhead, waited for him in reception. Her angry green eyes fired daggers at him.
He held his hand towards her. "Detective Stanley. Can I help you, Miss …?
"Sellers, Toni Sellers. Now if you don't mind, could you please tell me what the hell's been happening in my apartment?"
Chapter 37
Amanda
The children were tucked up in bed and I finally had a few minutes to myself. I rang DS Stanley and he confirmed he was about to release Michael. Toni had turned up safe and well. She'd been to stay with her sister for a few days—after she smashed the coffee table in a temper and had cut herself, which explained the blood.
I was relieved. She wasn't one of my favourite people in the world, but I didn't want her harmed—well, not too harmed anyway.
I told DS Stanley where I was staying, but asked him not to say anything to Michael. I still needed some space to get my head straight. Although I worried that by staying here, we were putting Sandra in danger too, but I had nowhere else to go.
Back in the lounge, I glanced over at Sandra. "I need to tell you something."
Sandra tipped her head to one side as if to say, now what?
"I saw my brother at the cemetery yesterday."
"Oh, my God, Amanda, you need to tell the police. Are you sure?"
"No. That's why I didn't say anything. I thought I might have imagined it."
"So much of this doesn't add up. You should write everything down. Do a timeline." Sandra was always the queen of lists.
"I don't know how a list would help."
"Not a list, a timeline. It can't hurt."
"I guess not."
I ended up sitting on the lounge rug with the coffee table shoved to one side. Sandra gave me an old roll of wallpaper that was ideal and I rolled it out.
"Right, lovey, I'll leave you alone and walk this poor pooch before he bursts."
Monty jumped up from his basket as soon Sandra picked up his lead, and he began pirouetting mid-air. The scruffy, little brown dog had been in hiding all day. Jacob adored him and had terrorized him at every opportunity. Once the children were in bed Monty ventured back to his basket.
Behind Shadows: A Psychological Mystery Thriller (The Adam Stanley Series Book 1) Page 19
