by Jake Barton
She heard the mobile ringing as she fumbled for her keys. Scrambling into the car, she plucked the mobile out of the glove box and pressed the talk button.
"Yeah?"
" Where the fuck have you been?" Oh shit. Dexter. "How many times do you have to be told to take your phone with you?"
Donna said nothing. This was a bollocking, not a discussion. Best to get it over with.
"Where are you?"
"West Kirby. Why?"
"Get your arse back to the office as soon as possible. God knows how you’ve missed it, but there’s been a bit of a development. Green’s house has burnt to the ground, along with the place next door. I’ve been on to Abbott and he’s talking about bodies."
"Oh God, did anyone get out?"
"How should I know? Just get back here and don’t bother about speed limits."
Donna clicked the phone off and stuck it in her pocket, turned the ignition key and drove off like a maniac.
~ Chapter 19 ~
R and D Security was buzzing. Abbott had called in to keep Dexter informed of the latest developments and everyone was up in the air and all speaking at once. Even Donna’s somewhat unconventional attire passed almost without comment.
Martha’s sniff would have shamed a Hoover Turbo at full power, but that was regulation.
The general consensus seemed to be that Marcus Green and his mother, together with Clive and his parents in the house next door had been overcome by smoke fumes and perished in a fire which had consumed both houses. Certainly, that was the line taken by both the Police and Fire Services on the scene.
It was not possible to form any reasoned opinion at this stage as to the cause of the blaze. Donna’s sole contribution had been to point out that the recent similar fire at the house belonging to Gary Rudd had never been explained and that Marcus Green, a known arsonist, was the most likely suspect. Roper told her to be quiet and even Dexter advised her to keep her opinions to herself at this stage.
After the meeting broke up, Donna was about to ask Andy if he fancied a bite of lunch, when Roper gave him a new assignment and he dashed off. Nobody seemed very interested in her and Dexter was closeted with Abbott in the main office, so Donna decided to take herself off home to get out of her awful clothes.
When she got home, she found notes from Peg, gone to do an errand for someone or other, and Gary, gone to work, so the house was empty. She mooched around for a couple of minutes, but there was never any housework to do with Peg in the house, so she decided to spend a much-needed hour in the gym.
An hour later, her anticipated quiet workout was turning into a nightmare. Donna didn't know what it was about her that attracted a certain type of man. The self-obsessed, the pretty-boy posers, the total and absolute wankers all flocked to her side. Like the prime specimen presently boring the tits off her.
Donna wasn't actually listening to his tedious lecture on how to achieve the optimum levels of amino acids in a balanced diet, but, superficially, she hung on his every word.
What a deceitful little cow I can be when the spirit moves me, she thought, catching sight of her reflection in the mirrored wall on her left.
Chin tilted upwards, ears cocked like a gun dog on alert, the very embodiment of a fascinated and attentive student.
She should have known what was coming the minute she’d clapped eyes on him. Talk about God's gift – wide shoulders, slim hips, a swimmers' body, rather like Gary Rudd, although obviously not a competitive swimmer as he still had body hair, long slim fingers, nails clipped straight across, a shock of beach boy blond hair – as close to perfection as a man can get. And didn't he just know it? He didn't need her approval as he loved himself to bits and had no need of any more worship. If only he knew Donna found him a total turn-off.
Donna took refuge in pressing an extra set, losing herself in effort, and switching off from his homily on correct eating habits. Her body had never been her temple, so she could afford to ignore the lecture. She knew all this stuff anyway, but must have looked to be in serious need of guidance judging by the fervent gleam in his eye.
Pushing herself over the last few repetitions, Donna switched off completely, diverting all her attention to the pure adrenaline rush of physical effort. As she strained every sinew to push the laden bar up just one more time, her unwanted companion could have been describing a nasty rash on his foreskin and speculating on the likelihood of it being caused by an excessive consumption of Midget Gems for all Donna knew, or cared.
Then he went too far and touched her. Not with any sexual intent, but touched her all the same. One unsolicited hand laid on her arm, as a means of emphasising some vital point, and Donna flipped. Boring her with words was one thing, but nobody touched her when she didn't want to be touched.
"Fuck off, you bastard!"
Donna saw the shock hit him hard, and then flipped herself from under the bar and to her feet as his eyes narrowed.
Walk away, arsehole, Donna mouthed under her breath.
Judging by the look in his eyes, he was seriously thinking about sticking one on her. As Donna braced herself for a three-finger strike, nothing too deadly but enough to discourage, he bottled it.
"Fucking lesbian," he snarled, then turned his back and walked away. She’d been told before that she could look pretty fierce when roused.
Donna sat back down on the bench, breathing hard, and conscious for the first time of the scrutiny of the only other person in the gym. She'd noted his presence before, but only in a cursory manner. A vague shape over the other side of the room and that was it. She glanced across and saw he was watching her, so she looked away.
When Donna glanced up again a few moments later he was still watching. Not staring, but definitely watching. Perhaps it was her recent outburst, but perhaps it was more. Introspection is the worst of all worlds, shattering the fragile veneer of self-sufficiency with which she normally cloaked herself, and revealing the fragile, weak and selfish sprite that was the real Donna O’Prey.
Risking another glance, Donna realised something that should have caught her eye before now. He was stunning, a year or two older than herself, maybe more. Not tall, five nine or so, but most definitely dark and handsome, lean and rangy, radiating fitness, dark hair, white teeth – the whole nine yards. She’d never seen him here before, and Donna knew she would have noticed.
Something about him was familiar though. Perhaps it was the way he moved, like a fighter, on the balls of his feet. Not a boxer, although he had that air of subdued menace, far too handsome and not overtly muscular enough in the upper body, an athlete certainly, a hurdler perhaps, well balanced, in control.
He stretched over the bench, picking a towel from the floor, and revealing a set of ridged stomach muscles that most top athletes can only dream of. By comparison, Donna felt like a couch potato. She knew she was being hard on herself as by any normal standards, she was pretty fit, but in comparison to this Greek god, she was a total slob.
Not that Donna hadn't known people with that sort of fitness before. Her ex-boyfriend, Lee, had awesome natural strength and his fitness level would have shamed many a racehorse – one-armed press-ups, sit-ups that extended into the hundreds, all without breaking sweat. So, she'd seen super-fit men before. The thing was, she liked it, was attracted to it. And, if they looked as good as this, that was a hell of a bonus.
The man now performing a brutal series of abdominal crunches on the inclined board reminded her of Lee. Not in looks, as Lee would never have claimed to be handsome, but in that same certainty of movement, an inner confidence.
Donna got up and walked over to the benches at the side. He saw her move and paused, smiling. Donna stopped, smiling in return.
" First time here?" God, O’Prey, that's original.
"Yeah." Nice voice, deep and resonant. Donna would have laughed if he'd had a squeaky Mike Tyson style voice.
"I used to live round here years ago. I’m just looking up some old friends, but try to keep up with m
y schedule when I can."
*****
When Donna got in, Gary was still not back and she decided to take a quick nap and recharge her batteries. Truth to tell, her workout had been more tiring than she’d expected, reminding her that she was no longer as fit as she’d have liked.
An hour later, a freshly showered Donna lay on her back – pillow doubled over under her head allowing her to recline in comfort and still look out of the window – indulging in the sybaritic pleasure of an afternoon siesta. Not asleep, not even sleepy, just no urgent necessity to get out of bed. A rare treat.
She could hear Peg beating pots and pans into submission in the kitchen, but pushed the racket to the very edge of her consciousness. She thought about Gary Rudd, but that was a problem in itself. Donna found relationships difficult, but even so, trying to come to terms with how she felt about Gary was a bit like learning to drive. Lurching ahead, stalling, rolling back then starting off again. She’d fallen for him, fallen hard. That was obvious. Was it going anywhere? Would he tire of her? God, she hoped not.
She decided to get out of her pit and hit the charity shops, whence she bought all her clothes, underwear excepted.
Decision made, she was up and dressed in no time. She headed for the kitchen swigged down a cup of Peg’s extra strong tea, pecked her on the cheek and hit the mean streets in search of bargains.
There were eight shops within walking distance, almost all staffed by old biddies. Just now, Cancer Research was the best, but next month Oxfam or Help the Aged could have the edge. Just to prove the point, she bought a brilliant oversize shirt, a seriously tarty black mini-skirt and a pair of hiking boots in the one shop she’d never really rated before. She knew she’d probably never wear the hiking boots, but they were the right size, in brilliant condition and three quid, so she couldn’t resist them.
That’s the thing about buying second-hand – the quality is better and the stuff is dirt-cheap. Donna couldn’t have afforded most of the stuff in her wardrobe if she’d had to buy it new. A quick browse through the book section found a couple of paperbacks for Peg, then she set off for home swinging her carrier bags and whistling like a building site navvy.
When she got home, Peg was on the ‘phone. Donna put the bags on the table and went to the bathroom. She was halfway through a pee when Peg’s voice percolated through to her brain. She finished as quickly as she could, washed her hands and dashed to the kitchen. Peg smiled broadly, gesturing that she was dealing with everything. Donna’s name had been mentioned which was nothing unusual, but to hear it used in a work context was cause for alarm.
"Is that for me?"
Peg smiled and nodded, handing her the telephone. "We’ve had a lovely long chat," she said, smiling mysteriously. "I’ve told that boss of yours he works you too hard. Now you’ve got a steady boyfriend, you need some time off to get to know each other properly."
"Hello?" The voice said in Donna’s ear.
Dexter!
"Oh God, it’s you," Donna said, her relief overwhelming. She’d thought for one dreadful moment that Peg had been talking to Roper. God forbid.
"She’s a card, your Gran, isn’t she?"
"She’s that all right," Donna said grimly, waving her hands at Peg who was lingering at her elbow. Peg took the hint and wandered off to rummage through the bags Donna had brought home.
"If you can spare a few minutes away from the boyfriend, I’d like to talk."
"Look, I don’t know what she’s told you, but…"
"Forget it, just listen. I’ve got Abbott here with me, and what he’s got to say isn’t good. Get back to the office pronto and we’ll fill you in on what we’re going to do now. Ten minutes, right?" He hung up.
"Nice man that. Very understanding." Peg was back.
"Yes he is, most of the time. But he’s also my boss so don’t go bending his ear on my behalf."
"He’s on his own, isn’t he? No lady friend?"
"No," Donna said dismissively.
End of conversation.
Donna bustled off to the bedroom to get changed. Two minutes later, as she was picking up her car keys, she went over to Peg and hugged her until she squeaked.
"See you soon, you daft old bat. If Gary rings, tell him I’ll be back when I can, but I’ve no idea when it will be."
*****
Marcus was smiling.
"Good news. I’ve found another little friend to keep you company. Perhaps I’ll go and fetch her soon. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?"
"Please let us go," Celine sobbed. "We won’t ever tell anyone about you."
Paula hugged her daughter, holding her tightly. They were sitting together on the mattress, shivering as the chill of the cabin struck their naked flesh.
"What a good idea," Marcus said, his smile broadening. "Then we can pretend that all this never happened."
"You’re mad." Paula spat at him.
"If only it were that simple. Not mad at all, unfortunately for you. I’ve got my reasons for keeping you here. You owe me. All of you. You didn’t think I’d brought you here out of lust for your lovely bodies, did you?" His voice rose to a scream, losing control fractionally for the first time.
Both women cowered in fear, visibly shaking with terror.
Marcus checked the shackles that fastened them to the bed.
"Fresh water and food down here. See how well I look after you? Back later, my pretty ones," he called over his shoulder, leaving the cabin and its two wretched occupants behind.
*****
R and D Security looked like the first day of the January sales. The main office was jammed. All the staff, Abbott and his driver, two civilians as yet unidentified, together with two more coppers from the task force.
Roper was in his element. His firm was at the heart of a major enquiry. Donna doubted whether any of the visitors would have been there if it weren’t for Abbott’s well-established connections with Dexter, but none of that mattered to Roper.
Dexter had the floor, speaking eloquently and with purpose, there was no denying the difference of opinion in the room. Donna sidled in content to remain in the background of this esteemed company. The copper who drove for Abbott caught her eye and winked. His levity eased the tension that was becoming overwhelming.
The first time she’d seen this particular officer at Meols Drive, she’d thought him a less than ideal model for the modern police force - a bit of a gut straining the front of his uniform, dandruff on his shoulders and un-shined shoes. A real bruiser with bony knuckles and thick blue veins like an uncoiled garden hose criss-crossing the backs of his hands.
Donna dragged her attention back to Dexter who was introducing the two men in civilian clothes, both investigators for the Fire Service. The taller of the pair did all the talking, the other one stood a pace behind like a dutiful Middle Eastern wife.
"There’s no doubt the fire was arson. An accelerant, almost certainly petrol, had been splashed liberally around on both floors. It started in the main bedroom. There’s a big hot spot where the bed would have been situated. Three empty containers were discovered in the ashes, no attempt to conceal them. No fingerprints on the cans, naturally. If petrol were used, the risk to the arsonist is high. Clouds of petrol vapour and an intense blaze mean pockets of fire can break out very quickly, even in places where no flames are present. It’s possible that the fire-starter could well have suffered burns to his person during the commission of the act. It’s evident that the prime suspect, Clive Hutton, committed suicide, but we have no means of establishing at this stage whether he was already suffering from burns prior to his death. As you’ll appreciate, the body was consumed by fire that by then had spread to his own house. Throwing petrol about in a burning building is risky work."
Risky for an amateur maybe, Donna thought, but what if the arsonist had done it before? She found the explanation that Clive had started the fire in the Green house, killing both occupants in the process and killing himself when the fire spread to his own ho
use very much at variance with the Clive she’d met.
Musing on the situation, she switched off from the following detailed explanations of the deployment of accelerants and other such technical stuff. Donna wasn’t even sure after a while whether he was still speaking English what with all the abbreviations, unexplained acronyms and Fire Service jargon.
By the time he sat down, the fireman had reduced the whole room to a catatonic state.
Abbott brought everyone up to speed with the police investigation and shortly afterwards the meeting broke up. Donna was surprised at the lack of input from Dexter, but all was explained when the crowd dispersed and only Abbott remained behind. It soon became obvious that what Dexter had to say was only for the ears of the trusted Abbott and his own colleagues.
"Can you be certain, I mean really certain, that the fire was started with the intention of killing Marcus Green and his mother?"
"You heard it from the horse’s mouth. Laughing Larry from the Fire Service may be a boring sod, but he knows his stuff. Two bodies, one male, one female, both nude, in the first floor bedroom. Three bodies in the house next door, a married couple and their son. The son was in his room with the door bolted on the inside. I’m inclined to agree with the Fire Investigator’s report and accept that the fire at the Green residence was intended to kill and that the most likely perpetrator killed himself rather than face the consequences when he realised the fire had spread to his own house and claimed the lives of his own parents."
"That’s bollocks," Donna interjected. "There’s no way it could have happened like that." The attention of the room turned towards her and she could feel waves of hostility sweeping in her direction.
" Miss O’Prey," Roper gasped, his expression outraged. Donna was sure he wanted to add, "Go to your room this minute".
"Leave it, Donna, this isn’t the time," Dexter rumbled, his expression stern. Even Andy looked shell-shocked. Donna didn’t bother looking at Martha to check her reaction.
