by Deborah Lucy
Chapter 20
Brian Porten was at the abattoir, hosing down. He was putting things in place ready for later. He had every intention of coming back with someone later tonight. He had seen the local newspaper that morning. Shopkeepers were up in arms at the council, asking them to do something about the numbers of homeless people who they had to step over in order to open their shops in the morning.
The police weren’t interested in moving them on and the problem was reaching crisis point. Not only did the shopkeepers have to step over these vagrants every morning, but even if they could get access to their premises, when they opened their doors, the people were still asleep, putting customers off entering. Where a shop was vacant, they piled up their bedding in the doorways before going off for breakfast and returning to beg in another spot. The place was becoming a mess, an eyesore, and very shortly people wouldn’t want to shop there. What were they paying their business rates for? He had to stop reading.
Brian was incensed by the inaction. He knew it to be true; there were steadily more and more homeless people pouring onto the streets. He was trying to help the situation; without him they would be in a worse state. But he would have to do more. Someone had to. It enraged him and he knew he had to keep himself in check. He suddenly felt the beats of his heart flare and bubble up into his throat, as if they would spring out of his mouth at any moment. He recognised the makings of a panic attack and before it took hold, he coughed. The flutters in his throat disappeared. He had to watch that.
He thought it out. If he went out tonight, he could find one from Salisbury and find another from Swindon the following night. It would mean him working harder, but two together, so close, might help the situation. There were certainly enough events coming up to help with the distribution of meat and he could even spread the products further afield. He’d make it work like he had done before. No one had been any the wiser that they had eaten human meat.
He reminded himself that no one suffered from what he did. There was no long, lingering death. It was quick and clean. He gave them a good death, better than the death they were otherwise sure to have. Better than dying freezing in a shop doorway, or from alcohol poisoning. No, just before he killed them, they were full of hope; hope that he was going to give them a bed, food and warmth. That’s what they thought he was offering them. Their spirits were lifted. And when he killed them, he freed them of the misery of their rotten existence.
* * *
Temple drove in the darkness of the countryside until the road narrowed. It all looked different in the black of night. He took a right turn into an obscured driveway. Further down, he heard the rattle of a cattle grid under the wheels of the car. It was nearly midnight and every sound seemed to be magnified in the quietness of the still night. He reduced his speed to crawling and very slowly he continued to drive, looking out into the darkness, nothing familiar to him.
He carried on driving slowly until he came to a stop in front of a tree. He turned the engine off. As he looked out, he could see the faint light of a door opening. He got out of the car into a cold, still night and walked across a lawned area towards the back of the house.
‘Won’t your father be curious about who’s arriving at this time of night?’ he asked in a low voice as he approached.
‘No,’ she smiled. ‘I have these rooms at the back of the house for a reason. He’ll be in a deep whisky sleep and he snores like a bear.’ Temple stepped inside and Callie closed the door behind him.
Once inside, he could see he’d entered a living area, the focal point being a large, stone fireplace aglow with a real fire in the hearth. The low flames threw a gentle light across the room. Callie had placed her hand on his arm and he turned back to her. He noticed that she was wearing not much more than an oversized cardigan that he guessed by the soft feel against his hand, was cashmere. Under that seemed to be something more flimsy and silken, but he couldn’t quite make out what in the low light. She was dressed for bed. He distracted himself.
‘This is all very nice,’ he said, looking around the room. She took his coat from him and laid it across a chair. They turned to each other. The bruises under her eyes were softened by the light of the room.
‘How are you feeling now?’ he asked, wanting to touch her but reminding himself he hadn’t been invited to.
‘I’m good. I’m glad you could come by. I was hoping you would.’ They were standing facing each other. He could smell her light perfume. Whatever it was, it was working its magic. He focused.
‘I wondered if you’d still be up,’ he said with a smile, looking into her face. ‘I’m sorry it’s so late, I hoped to be here earlier.’
She smiled back at him. ‘I’m glad you sent your text. It was a little clichéd but yes, I’d love to help you with your enquiries.’ She quickly moved in to him and taking him by surprise, she planted a lingering kiss on his lips. As she did so, he could feel her hands on his body, exploring over his shirt. As her hand moved over the tender spot where he had been punched by Paul Wallace, he flinched involuntarily, breaking the kiss.
‘Sorry about that,’ he said quietly. Her hands had now moved to the top of his trouser waistband. Her lips again brushed against his. He responded and felt her body press into him. She was moving fast, faster than he’d anticipated. He wasn’t sure what he’d hoped for when he decided to see her that night, but her enthusiastic welcome was taking him by surprise.
He hadn’t had this effect on a woman in a while. He was caught in a seductive mix of her perfume, her red hair and her lips on his. But as grateful as he was, he felt he had to at least make an effort to check the situation. He put his hands gently over hers and stopped them in their busy endeavour.
‘Are you sure you know what you’re doing? You don’t know me.’
She looked back at him with her head to one side. Her hands were now still and nestled in his. She spoke softly.
‘I know what I want to know. You’re not a murderer because you’re a police officer. I’m guessing you’re not a sicko or weirdo because you wouldn’t be doing what you’re doing. You catch the bad guys and that makes you one of the good guys. That’s all I need to know.’
‘One doesn’t necessarily follow the other. There are a few weirdos, as you say, amongst us. Besides, that’s not exactly what I meant. I’m not even sure I should be here.’
‘But you are here.’ She moved to kiss him again. ‘And I’m very pleased that you are. As for anything else, I don’t really care right now.’ She was looking into his eyes. He could see that he wasn’t going to interrupt her mission. Shrugging the cardigan she was wearing off her shoulders, she pressed her mouth against his. This time he didn’t hold back.
She deftly unbuttoned his shirt. He moved the thin spaghetti straps of her satin slip off her shoulders. She let it fall and he felt her naked skin on his. She was just as he imagined. Pale, smooth, soft skin. He kissed her neck, breathing in her scent, feeling her lovely copper hair across his face.
Taking his hand, she led him further into the room by the fire. As he watched her lay herself invitingly on a rug at his feet, the firelight flickered across her naked body. She beckoned him. He couldn’t resist her.
Chapter 21
It was a crisp morning and it was early. Temple could see a light frost had settled on the grass as he looked out of the kitchen window across the churchyard. Looking out onto the lychgate, his mind wandered back a few hours before, when he’d held Callie in his arms. She was a delight, the stuff of dreams.
When they’d eventually moved from the rug in front of the fire to her bed, he told her that his domestic commitments meant that he couldn’t stay with her overnight. She completely understood, she said. He’d promised he’d return to see her the following night and slipped away two hours later as she slept.
As he went over their time together, he’d unloaded the dishwasher and was setting cups on the worktop. Ana and Ben hadn’t yet stirred and he used the quiet to think. As he waited for the
kettle to boil, he looked again out of the small, square panes of window. This time his gaze went across the churchyard to a more distant spot in the landscape. The sight put an abrupt end to his more pleasant thoughts of Callie.
It hadn’t been a good idea to move to Avebury, even though it was near to Leigh and Daisy at Beckhampton. Moving here had been a mistake. He wasn’t sure right now whether it was good to be this close to where he’d found his mother murdered. Since they’d moved in, he’d been resisting the urge to revisit the spot. Of course he’d been back to the site since; he’d visited with his uncle Richard and he’d been there alone. But now he only had to look out of the window. Now the place was in sight, every day.
He should have asked if Jane had another property or, better still, he should have cut his ties with her and gone to another landlord. Maybe he still would. Maybe they wouldn’t stay here for much longer. Since Ben had arrived in his life, he was slowly starting to feel differently about a lot of things. He’d started to view his life from a different perspective and this included his mother’s murder.
With no suspect, not even his determination had made a difference to Op Acre. He could see now how ridiculous his notion had been of taking hold of the case, looking through the evidence, finding the clues that no other detective could find and finally resolving the enquiry. Loss of evidence and the gap of over thirty years had made this more difficult than he’d imagined.
Even joining forces with Richard at various stages hadn’t moved things on. As an archaeologist, Richard was used to unravelling mysteries. He was used to waiting years for discoveries and answers. But even he wanted closure; to know what happened the day his vivacious younger sister, Gabriella, was brutally murdered.
Richard referred to her as his ‘untameable sister’. They’d discovered she had been fearless – daring and reckless. But that had been part of the attraction for her ‘alternative’ lifestyle as a free spirit. As they’d tracked down and spoken to the people who knew her back then, a picture emerged of a woman who was playing with fire. Her friends told of how she would seek her thrills from the adventure of travelling around and meeting new people. They also said that she occasionally carried drugs around and made deliveries.
This sat at odds with Temple’s memories of a happy childhood. When he looked back he could only recall endless summer days and camp fires. Yes, he could remember seeing her smoke cannabis on a regular basis, but he’d never seen her take pills or inject drugs. He never saw large amounts of money, although they always seemed to have food and fuel. He realised from what people told him that she must have been a drugs mule and that he had been with her when she was carrying her cargo around the country. In doing so, she’d put them both at risk. But to him as a seven-year-old, she’d been fun and he’d felt safe and loved.
Until he’d found her dead. Strangled, surrounded by small white pills. And as he’d stood by the side of her, the same hand that had choked the life out of his mother reached out and grabbed him. Over the years, he’d examined his memory of that moment in minute detail, looking for anything that would lead him to her attacker.
Try as he might, he couldn’t wring out any more information about that moment. In a split second a hand came towards him, took full hold of the T-shirt he was wearing and shoved him backwards. No matter how many times he reran that moment, there was nothing more to gain. With the passage of time and his own maturity, he could still bring nothing more to mind. The hand of her killer had touched him and walked away.
It had haunted him ever since. He could still feel the man’s hand on his chest as he shoved him, even after all this time. Why had he been left alive that day? He couldn’t fathom it. But he wanted to reciprocate; he wanted to find who it was that had grabbed him that day and put his hand on him – on her killer – and bring him to justice. That’s what had driven him on all these years.
And all this had occurred in a spot he could see from where he was standing now. He’d already recounted it more times than he could remember since being here, and it made no difference. But coming here with Ben made him realise the futility of his quest. It put the last thirty years into perspective. The last few months even. But it was the conversation he’d had with Callie that made this suddenly resonate. When she’d talked of the consequences that bad parenting had on children, it had made him think – about everything. He was starting to think he should let go of the past in favour of the future with his boy. Maybe now was the time to let it go.
Perhaps there was nothing more to be done. Perhaps with Leigh divorcing him and talking of moving away to start a new life without him, it was now time to sort himself out, leave the past where it was and concentrate on the future. Perhaps it had taken him coming back here to realise it. To accept there would be no resolution. What Callie had said had really struck a chord with him. Why had it taken someone he had only just met to make him see? He couldn’t afford to screw up with Ben. And somehow he had to sort Daisy out.
Suddenly he felt the touch of his little boy’s hair against his hand. Ben’s upturned face looked up at him and as Temple gazed down, he saw the faintest signs of a smile. He knew then that he’d gladly give up the past to give his little boy a life untouched by his own tragedy. Yes, that tiny smile was all he needed to tell him it was time to let it go. He had to see Richard and explain, today.
As he made the short walk to nursery with Ben’s hand in his, Temple was buoyed by an odd sense of optimism. With the early frost and mist burnt off by the slow-rising sun, it had the promise of a bright but cold day. With the little boy unusually chatty and happy to be walking with his daddy, Temple felt as if they might have turned a corner. He went inside the nursery with Ben, who did not cry as he had done previously, even when Temple waved him goodbye. Walking back home, it made him feel more relaxed about the boy.
Temple looked at his watch and was conscious of the time. He wanted to make sure he was back to be able to spend more time with Ben and he wanted to visit Richard. It was a long drive down south, but he had to see him. He’d made a decision and it already felt right.
* * *
Temple pulled up outside the home of his uncle Richard. His old yellow Volvo sat outside in a carport, so Temple knew he was at home. Hindon was a pretty village with a good pub, and the cottage with its thatched roof sat near the church. The door was answered nearly as quickly as Temple knocked on it. Richard was both surprised and glad to see his nephew.
‘Come in, come in.’ He stood aside at the open door. ‘I was expecting a heating engineer, bloody boiler’s packed up. Go through. It’s good to see you. Long time, no see.’
‘Good to see you too, Rich. Sorry it’s been such a long time; we’ve got a bit of catching up to do. I want to tell you something so I thought I’d come in person rather than ring.’
Richard led the way through to a small kitchen where he put the kettle on. He was excited at seeing his nephew and tried to remember how long it had been since they’d last spoken. It must be two years. Yes, it was. The last time they’d met was on the thirtieth anniversary of Gabriella’s death.
‘So, what’s keeping you busy in archaeology these days?’ asked Temple, taking the initiative and the opportunity to give Richard a welfare check in the process. They had a good relationship that survived long periods without contact. Temple conceded that despite looking a little older, Richard was still in good shape for a near seventy-year-old. He seemed to be looking after himself; his grey beard was neatly trimmed and he looked healthy enough.
Richard’s constant quest for knowledge of the unknown kept his mind sharp and he still looked slim and athletic, the slight stoop in his tall frame no more pronounced than usual. Years of trudging around fields and digging on archaeological sites around the world had kept him fit, with just a little of the usual inevitable knee and joint problems.
‘I’m up and down to London at the moment, at the British Museum. I’m helping in a large study of Roman coinage that’s going on. Do you know, just o
ver a hundred thousand Roman coins have been found in England, not including hoards, of which there are well over a hundred. To put this into context, millions of the Tetricus coin alone were struck. You see what I’m saying? There must be loads of Roman coins out there waiting to be discovered. It’s fascinating stuff. Keeps me nice and busy.’
Temple smiled at him. He showed the same enthusiasm for his subject as ever.
‘How’s Leigh and Daisy? She must be growing into a pretty little lady by now.’
‘They’re both fine. Well, as fine as you can be when you’re practically divorced.’
Richard stopped what he was doing and looked back at him. Temple looked sheepish and held his hands up.
‘It’s all my fault, all my doing. Leigh ran out of patience with me a long time ago.’ Temple explained the circumstances that had Ben appearing in his life. ‘I had to choose, Rich, and I couldn’t leave Ben to a life in care or being adopted by another family. Not when I can bring him up. It’s not Leigh’s fault – I’ve caused all this. It’s a mess. In choosing Ben I lost Leigh, our unborn and perhaps Daisy too.’
‘I’m so sorry.’ Richard patted Temple’s shoulder. ‘Are you sure there’s nothing you can do? Is there no way you can all stay together?’
‘Leigh can’t even bear the sight of me, let alone talk to me. She won’t countenance having Ben as part of our family, so I’m stuck with an impossible situation. I couldn’t live with myself knowing Ben was in state care or being fostered.’
‘You’re a good man.’ Richard gave Temple a mug of tea.
‘If I was a good man, there’d be no Ben. I’d have been happy with what I had with Leigh if I was a good man. I screwed up. But I can’t go on like this. It’s really over with Leigh this time, but I still need contact with Daisy and the baby. To do that, I somehow have to have some sort of relationship with her.’
