Extinction

by Carol Anne Davis

  The muffin felt dry and tasteless in her mouth but she forced herself to eat it all as a matter of principle. She simply couldn’t let a man dictate her diet. Matthew’s wife had gained three stone throughout their marriage so perhaps that had left him paranoid about comfort eating but she had no intention of doing the same thing; she also had no intention of starving herself or forgoing the occasional calorific treat. She’d walked to and from the hospital today, a total journey of over an hour and, as usual, had traipsed the long corridors as she talked to various personnel about their nutritional needs, and her evening meal had just been a mackerel salad. She deserved this carbohydrate snack.

  Should she ask him if he thought that she was overweight? No, that made her sound too needy. Had he started to find her less attractive? Her period was due so she wasn’t looking or feeling her best. But should a man – especially one of his years – be judging his girlfriend solely on her looks and body? Surely that implied a terrible immaturity?

  She was still mulling over his behaviour the following day at the bereavement drop-in session so was particularly pleased when Olivia Marsden walked in. Talking to the young widow would take her mind off her own relationship issues.

  ‘So, how have you been, Olivia?’ she asked. She worked hard to always remember her clients’ names and their most pertinent details. Admittedly it was easy with Olivia as she’d actually been to her house.

  ‘Up and down. Some days I think that I’m doing really well, others I feel so hopeless that I can’t stop crying.’

  ‘Grief is like that. It has its own rhythm,’ Beth said sympathetically.

  ‘It’s especially hard knowing that Zak will never hear Mia’s first words, watch her first steps, take her to school or watch her graduate from college.’

  ‘It must be,’ Beth murmured, aware that there were no words which could bring consolation in such difficult circumstances.

  They both looked up as the door opened and Adam strolled in.

  ‘Sorry to bother you both,’ he murmured.

  ‘Anytime!’ Olivia said, smiling brightly up at him.

  The younger woman was flirting, and Beth felt a momentary surprise. There again, it must be terrifying being widowed with a baby so maybe she was trying to attract a mate in order to survive.

  ‘Beth – there’s a woman at the door who specifically wants to talk to you. Something about a neighbour’s cousin.’

  ‘Oh, I know the case. Olivia, are you happy to have another woman join us or . . .?’

  Olivia looked up at Adam. ‘I’d rather be counselled one-to-one.’

  ‘OK,’ Adam said, glancing at Beth, ‘well, why don’t I speak to Olivia and you can go talk to your friend?’

  ‘I guess . . .’ Beth murmured, hoping that the widow wasn’t going to make a fool of herself by propositioning her handsome colleague. That said, Adam was far too sensible to get involved with a client, particularly one who had recently given birth to her dead husband’s child.

  TWENTY-SIX

  ‘Your brother has made certain allegations against you, so we wondered if you could account for your movements on Thursday night,’ the policeman asked.

  Yes, I was recovering from my trip to Birmingham and waiting until it got dark so that I could go round to his place and slip a porn mag under his son’s mattress.

  Adam smiled inwardly, picturing the man’s face if he told the truth. ‘I’ll just check my diary. Oh, I was here with John, my lodger.’

  ‘And he can verify that?’

  ‘He’s in the kitchen, officer. Please go ahead and speak to him.’

  The pair of them had watched a triple bill of Road Wars and shared a Chinese fried rice. He’d been careful not to mention going to Birmingham as the letter was date-stamped there. He’d thought about sending it locally but figured it might draw more attention to him; as it stood, the sender could be a professional who travelled for business or pleasure and who perhaps had a child who went to nursery school with Tim. When paedophile cases broke, you invariably found a few parents who had seen something vaguely suspicious in the toilets or changing room but hadn’t felt confident enough to act on it. Eventually, someone would send the police an anonymous note.

  Ten minutes later, the officer was back.

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  ‘You’re welcome. So, what exactly has my brother accused me of?’

  The man looked briefly at his feet. ‘We found an indecent magazine in his house and he said that you had planted it.’

  Adam frowned slightly, a look that he had perfected in front of the mirror as a younger man. ‘When, exactly? I haven’t been there for years!’

  ‘We don’t know the date, to be honest. But we were tipped off on Friday so if anyone planted it . . .’

  ‘He’s forever accusing me of things. If I was a less placid man, I’d probably sue him.’

  The detective nodded. ‘I gather that there’s no love lost between you?’

  ‘Well, no. We both left school at sixteen as our parents wanted us to help run the family florist. But I eventually went on to university and Nicholas didn’t. I think he really resented me for that. He delivered bouquets throughout Somerset until my parents retired, then took over the day-to-day organization of the shop. It’s living-by-numbers whereas I run a psychology practice and also do voluntary work.’

  ‘But we understand that he also teaches at a Sunday school.’

  ‘He does – he’s always been more confident around kids than adults. Even at secondary, he went around with the younger crowd.’

  ‘And how is he with his own son?’

  ‘Oh, excellent – a very good father.’

  ‘And what do you think about Jill’s parenting skills?’

  ‘A brilliant mother. Totally dedicated.’

  ‘Yet she didn’t want you around.’

  Adam grimaced. ‘To be honest, I got the impression that they both see sin everywhere, you know, because they are so religious? I’d smile at Jill in a friendly way and she’d blush and Nicholas would look like he wanted to kill me. One day he accused me of making a play for her so I stopped going round.’

  The other man looked thoughtful. ‘So these were just social visits?’

  They might hear the truth from his father, so he’d better level with them. ‘No, my parents lent me the money to get through university and I was paying them back whenever I could. Nicholas, for some unfathomable reason, decided to get involved and used to invite me round to discuss my finances. I’ve paid back most of the loan, now, and they’ve forgiven the rest.’

  ‘They never lent Nicholas any cash?’

  ‘No, they paid his wages every week from the shop takings and that’s all he ever required. I’m the first person in the family to graduate so they’re very pleased.’

  ‘I can understand that,’ the man said, looking around his therapy room. ‘Mr Neave, can I ask if you’ve ever seen your brother behave inappropriately with a child?’

  Adam donned a look of surprise. ‘No, never. As I said before, he really likes children.’

  ‘You don’t think that he maybe likes them too much?’

  He hesitated, blinked several times. ‘I never thought . . . Oh no, officer, I can’t accuse him of that.’

  The silence lengthened, the officer presumably hoping that he would remember some relevant incident. He stared back at him guilelessly.

  ‘If you think of anything else, please get in touch with us.’

  Nodding agreeably, he accepted the little card.

  After seeing the man out, he hurried to the phone and called his father, but the older man didn’t answer. Of course, he’d be with Mum at the hospital. Glad that he didn’t have any clients until the afternoon, Adam drove there and hurried to the ward. She was still in a side room, still delirious, still hanging on.

  ‘Dad, I’m sorry to bother you, but have you heard from Nicholas?’

  ‘Your brother? He’s in the cafe, having an early lunch. He’ll be back in ten mi
nutes.’

  Damn, so the police had let him go and he hadn’t mentioned any of it to the old man, probably didn’t want to worry him at this most challenging time. It was clear that the porn magazine wasn’t going to be enough to ruin Nicholas’s life completely, that he’d have to commit an even more damning act.

  He smiled brightly at his younger sibling when he entered the room. ‘Hi bro.’

  Nicholas glared, seemed to belatedly notice his father, and smiled weakly.

  The three of them – all males from the same family but separated by some unfathomable emotional gulf – sat by the bedside for the next fifteen minutes then Adam looked pointedly at his watch.

  ‘Sorry, but I have to see a client. Must go.’

  ‘Thanks for coming, son,’ his dad said gruffly. ‘I’ll phone you if there’s any news.’

  News about Nicholas? He realized belatedly that the man meant news about his mother. He nodded, touched his hand then that of his comatose relative, pretended to care. She could hang on for days or even weeks; he often counselled the adult children of dying parents. They lived in limbo, waiting – and sometimes even guiltily praying – for the end. Machines kept patients alive who would previously have expired, kept them in an emotional and mental no man’s land. That thought aside, there was going to be news of a death by tomorrow, though not the one that his family was anticipating.

  Nicholas had been prepared to send him to prison, on a hunch, for at least sixteen years, ruining his day-to-day life and permanently robbing him of his psychology practice. Now he would rob his brother of the thing that he most loved in all the world.

  Again, he waited until the early hours before leaving the bungalow and driving to the district where his brother and sister-in-law lived. Again, he parked a couple of streets away and walked quietly, merging with the shadows made by the overhanging trees. He’d never killed a child before but it must be physically much easier than murdering an adult woman, albeit devoid of fun. No, he doubted if he’d get a sexual charge from this particular murder – but he’d have the ongoing emotional satisfaction of knowing that he was putting Nicholas and the equally smug Jill through hell.

  He’d opted to commit this crime after reading about Armenian justice. Their gangsters believed that it made no sense to kill your enemy – after all, you were merely sending him to a permanent peace, to oblivion. But if you killed someone who he loved, you ensured that he mourned and suffered for the rest of his life.

  Wearing his by now trademark gloves, he slid his key carefully into the lock – good, they hadn’t had time to change it. The lack of lights indicated that they had gone to bed, so he made his way soundlessly to the nursery.

  Tim was asleep, his little face relaxed and rosy and, for a second, he hesitated, unsure if he could go through with this. Then he remembered the way that Nicholas had treated him, and felt new rage. Reaching down, he held the toddler’s nose and mouth firmly shut with his gloved fingers, pressed his forearms down on the struggling body beneath the duvet. He looked away the entire time, pictured his brother’s anguished face. The boy seemed to expire quickly but he kept his fingers in place for untold moments, just to be sure. Finally he let go and pulled the duvet up to the child’s – well, the corpse’s – neck.

  A floorboard creaked and then another. Fuck it. He lay down and rolled under the dusty bed, urged himself not to sneeze and held his breath. Jill walked halfway into the room, he could just see her feet, clad in old-fashioned slippers. She stopped for a moment, presumably peered at her son through the darkness, and tiptoed out again. He must just look as if he was sleeping peacefully.

  Adam lay there for ten more minutes before deciding that Jill had probably returned to dreamland. He slid out awkwardly but soundlessly and examined his handiwork. It would help matters if he made it look like the boy had suffocated, so he turned Tim’s face into the pillow before pulling the covers up and tucking some of them under his head. Mission accomplished. Tiptoeing very carefully and scarcely breathing, he left the way that he had come and drove home.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  ‘Welcome to my humble abode!’ John said. He murmured the same greeting six times in total, as, one by one, his clients arrived at the house for the ‘Weight Loss & Well-being’ course. He showed each of them into the lounge, furnished today with additional comfy chairs from the kitchen. He’d also strewn bowls of peanuts and fruit around. Lunch was already cling-filmed in the fridge, a brown rice salad, hummus and slices of goat’s cheese quiche.

  ‘Nice place,’ one of the girls said. John smiled. He wouldn’t lie outright but was happy to let the three men and three women think that this was his own house, that he was climbing the property ladder. Adam had said that he wouldn’t be back until mid-evening as he was counselling a bipolar man in a neighbouring town. He’d said that he could charge extra if he went to the client’s house rather than have them come to him, so was especially glad to take on agoraphobics and anyone who was anxious in crowds.

  John cleared his throat and recited his opening sentence, one that he’d learned off by heart. ‘If I could start by asking each of you what you hope to gain from today?’

  The three females all opted for weight loss.

  ‘I’m the opposite, want to bulk out a bit,’ the leanest of the men said.

  ‘I’d like to have fewer colds so that I can give more to my work,’ the second man admitted.

  ‘Same here – improved health and fitness,’ clarified the third guy.

  ‘In other words, we all need to change what we’re doing now in terms of diet and lifestyle,’ John said. ‘Gently modify our behaviour. I can give you tips for the short term so that you’ll see almost immediate improvements but also work out a schedule for the longer term so that you continue towards your goal.’

  The heaviest man patted his stomach. ‘I sometimes eat all the wrong things, end up with indigestion.’

  John nodded. ‘You can often clear indigestion almost overnight by trying food combining – that is, you don’t mix protein and starches at the same meal. So you could have steak and salad or steak with vegetables but not with potato. Similarly, if you had a baked potato for your meal you couldn’t top it with tuna, cheese or another protein but you could have it with sweetcorn or a tomato and onion sauce.’

  ‘And how long would you follow that regime?’

  ‘Probably for a week to give your system a rest,’ John said. ‘Some people follow it for years but it’s very restrictive, particularly when you’re eating out.’

  ‘Isn’t there also some rule about fruit?’ one of the girls asked.

  ‘Yes, food combiners recommend that you eat fruit on an empty stomach as it’s easier to digest. So melon is ideal for a starter but not for dessert.’

  By lunchtime – an unfortunate mixture of protein and carbs which would probably leave Indigestion Man doubled over later in the day – they were all best friends and the topic had flitted from working out to relationships. One of the women had split up with her boyfriend three months ago and lamented that her job as a buyer for a large retail outlet didn’t bring her into contact with many men.

  ‘Then, when I do meet someone, I’m worried that my weight is putting them off,’ she said anxiously.

  John stared at her in surprise. ‘Nonsense – you can only be a fourteen.’

  ‘A fourteen to sixteen.’

  ‘Then you’re the same size as over half of the women in this country,’ he explained and they smiled at each other for so long that several of the others exchanged knowing looks. He’d love to have her, Louise, as his girlfriend, John admitted to himself. She had such a sweet face and was very open about her doubts and fears.

  The hours passed quickly and, all too soon, it was four p.m. but no one wanted the course to end. They continued talking. Two hours later, Louise admitted that she was hungry and the others said that they were too.

  John felt almost giddy at his new-found ability to connect with women. ‘Why don’t I rustle us up
a meal and we can watch a DVD?’

  He’d make another batch of the vegetarian chilli that he’d tried out on Adam recently. There were tins of mixed beans in the cupboard, spices on the rack and onions in the bottom of the fridge. It would only take ten minutes. All he needed was enough cooked rice for seven.

  A thorough rummage through the kitchen freezer produced nothing of use. In fact, it mainly consisted of frozen vegetables and a couple of microwave fish meals, no good when two of the course members were vegetarian. He’d have to go out to the big freezer in the garage and see what he could find. Fortunately Adam had found the key after next door’s Maine Coon had become trapped there, and it was presumably in his study. After a few minutes of rooting around, he found it in the little slide-out compartment of the writing bureau where his landlord kept everything from staples to paperclips. Humming to himself, he approached and unlocked the outhouse. The hole in the roof, he noticed, was now patched with what looked like balsa wood: Adam must have repaired it when he was at work. That was unusual as his landlord usually put off DIY and baulked at the cost of calling in a professional, generally let various home maintenance tasks build up.

  He opened the large white chest and surveyed the family-sized bags of pasta, roast potatoes and slices of roast beef in gravy, frozen into individual portions. Surely Adam hadn’t run out of pre-cooked rice? They sometimes heated a portion to accompany a takeaway curry as it was cheaper and less oily than buying it from the Indian restaurant.

  John lifted a few of the bags from the freezer and set them carefully on the floor. He was now looking at a layer of gammon and beef steaks, bought cheaply as they were close to their sell-by date. Third time lucky: he started to pile some of the steaks to one side.