by Ellis, Tim
He sat in the wicker chair and unzipped his fly. What other alternative did he have? An erection could not be hidden or camouflaged. He could not travel to Chigwell in England trying to hide an erection the whole way. He matched her touch for touch, breath for breath. All day he had suffered her beauty – been unable to touch her, to kiss her, to . . . Now, in his mind, they were entwined in each other’s embrace like two vines climbing the same tree. Separating them would have been nearly impossible because there was no indication where one began and the other ended.
Mother Teresa and all the saints of the kingdom of heaven. Oh, Rosibel . . . Rosibel . . .
In reception he paid the bill and gave the receptionist a one hundred dollar tip.
The busboy took their luggage out to the waiting taxi and he tipped him fifty dollars.
Rosibel said, ‘I have booked two rooms at the Prince Regent Hotel in Woodford Green, England.’
He nodded.
At the airport he paid for two business class seats on a British Airways flight to London Heathrow that would take off in three quarters of an hour. It was a ten-hour overnight flight, and they would sleep most of the way.
As Rosibel hadn’t eaten, they found a cafe. Although he’d devoured two lemon pancakes he was still hungry. He would have liked a plateful of empanadas, but had to make do with Jamaican patties made with the fat from curry goat. Rosibel had the same and ate like a ravenous she-wolf.
Soon, they were settling into luxurious reclining seats with pillows and blankets.
As the plane took off he smiled. Mr Garcia would soon have his money back, and he would be able to return home again.
***
Xena was rushed into an emergency room when they arrived at King George Accident & Emergency, and from there up to the operating theatre.
They wouldn’t tell him a damned thing.
‘Are you a relative?’ one of the nurses asked.
‘No, I’m her . . .’
‘Sorry.’
The Chief arrived about six o’clock, and after talking to one of the doctors said, ‘Keep me informed, DC Gilbert.’
‘What time do you go to bed, Sir?’
‘Ring me any time – good or bad.’
‘Did they tell you what was wrong with her, Sir?’
‘You don’t know?’
‘If you’re not a relative they won’t tell you anything.’
‘No, I don’t suppose they will.’ He scratched his head. ‘Women’s problems, apparently. The doctor did tell me, but my eyes glazed over and it went in one ear and out the other.’
‘Oh! Did they tell you whether she’s going to be okay, or not?’
‘Touch and go. We’ll just have to keep our fingers crossed.’
‘Thanks, Sir,’ he said, as the Chief headed towards the stairs.
It was now seven-thirty, and she’d been in the theatre over three hours.
He rang Jennifer and told her what had happened. She said she’d come straight there after she knocked off at eight o’clock, and bring him burger and chips with a drink. He got the feeling that he and Jennifer were going to stay together for a very long time. She was his first girlfriend ever, the first girl he’d had sex with and the first girl he’d ever lived with. He had no idea what love was, but he reckoned he was in that special place with Jennifer.
The trouble was, he thought he might love Xena Blake as well, but he was confused about how he felt because she was his partner, and he didn’t know whether he loved her as a woman or as a partner. Was it possible to love two women at the same time? He spent all day Monday to Friday with Xena, and sometimes the weekends as well. In fact, he spent more time with her than he did with Jennifer. They had a special relationship, a bond that couldn’t be broken. He watched her back and she watched his – they were yin and yang, light and dark, hot and cold. Now, she was fighting for her life under the surgeon’s knife, and he blamed himself. He should have seen it coming, should have noticed that she wasn’t well, that she was in pain.
Jennifer arrived at nine-fifteen with his burger and chips, but all he could do was pick at them. She’d brought him a coffee as well, but it was lukewarm.
She held his hand. ‘Don’t worry, Monsieur. She’s strong, she’ll pull through.’ Jennifer had never met Xena, but she probably knew as much about her as he did.
He wasn’t much in the way of company, so he told Jennifer to go home at ten o’clock. He promised to ring her first thing in the morning to give her an update on Xena’s condition. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow night.’
‘Goodnight, Monsieur.’ She still called him that. It was how they’d met. She’d thought he was somebody else on the telephone, and because her last name was D’Arcy he thought she might be French.
He kissed her. ‘Goodnight, Mademoiselle.’
Xena was wheeled out of the operating theatre at quarter to eleven and taken to the recovery ward on the first floor. He wasn’t allowed to go into the recovery ward, but at least the doctor said the operation had gone well.
‘What operation? What was wrong with her?’
‘Are you a . . . ?’
‘I’m the nearest thing she’s got to a relative – I’m her partner.’
He knew that when he said “I’m her partner” people would misinterpret it unless he qualified it with something else about “work”, “police” or being a “detective” – he didn’t.
‘Ah, I see,’ he said, but he didn’t see at all. ‘We had to carry out definitive surgery, I’m afraid. There was anatomic distortion of the pelvic organs and obstruction of the bowel and urinary tracts. We were forced to remove her uterus, ovaries and fallopian tubes.’
‘My god!’
‘I’m sorry, it was the only thing we could do to save her life.’
‘I don’t understand, she’s been fine all day.’
‘No . . . she hasn’t. She may have put on a brave face, but she’s not been fine for a long time. She must have been in a considerable amount of pain during her menstruation each month.’
‘What was wrong with her?’
‘Endometriosis – it’s the abnormal growth of endometrial cells on the pelvic organs. During menstruation cells are shed, but because they’re outside the uterus they have nowhere to go, so they attach themselves to the exterior surfaces of the uterus, fallopian tubes, ovaries, intestines and the lining of the pelvic cavity. In most women, it can be treated with medication . . .’
‘What happened to Xena?’
‘We haven’t been able to obtain her medical records yet, but I can imagine that she was either misdiagnosed, or more likely, never diagnosed at all. She’s been suffering for a long time – probably since her first menstruation.’
‘That’s a long time.’
‘Yes. She probably thought the pain was a normal part of her periods.’
‘Will she be all right now?’
‘We’ll see. The endometrial implants were extensive, but we removed most of them. I’m hopeful we can treat any that remain with medication.’
‘Can I sit with her?’
‘Of course. Once she’s been taken to the surgical ward. She’ll be drowsy for a few hours yet though.’
‘I understand. Thank you, Doctor.’
‘You’re welcome. Hopefully, she’s through the worst of it now.’
He rang the Chief and told him that Xena was out of theatre and, for the moment, out of danger. He didn’t say anything about her having most of her reproductive organs removed – he’d leave her to decide whether she wanted to tell people the intimate details of her surgery.’
***
‘I received a call today.’
‘That’s interesting,’ Jerry said from behind her law book.
He saw a young woman of about twenty years old standing beneath the lamppost as he closed the curtains and wondered if prostitutes had moved into the neighbourhood. As he climbed into bed he said, ‘The new Chief Constable is coming for a visit on Friday morning.’
‘That’s interesting, dea
r.’
‘Her assistant told me that she’s always admired my fabulous physique and movie-star good looks.’
‘How fascinating.’
‘And that she wants to have wild abandoned sex with me during the visit.’
‘Really?’
‘How do you feel about that, darling?’
‘If you can get it up, I say grab the opportunity with both hands.’
He pounced on her.
She squealed and tried to escape, which left her half-in and half-out of the bed with her bare arse sticking up in the air.
‘If I can get it up indeed.’ He held onto her ankles and opened her legs.
‘No you mustn’t,’ she said laughing. ‘What if one of the children come in?’
‘Then they’ll see their father leading by example and grabbing an opportunity with both hands.’
Afterwards, when they were drenched in each other’s sweat, Ray said, ‘Did I ever tell you I loved you, Jerry Kowalski?’
‘Men always say that when they’ve had their fill.’
‘Who said I’m full up?’
‘You’ll be having another heart attack.’
‘I can’t think of a better way to go.’
‘Are you going to tell me what Jed said then?’
‘I don’t need to tell you that you shouldn’t . . . ?’
‘No, you don’t.’
‘It’s just that it’s a bit sensitive and . . .’
‘Have I ever said anything to . . . ?’
‘Not even to your mother.’
‘Tell me.’
‘Human meat.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘That’s what it was all about apparently. Lorna Boyce must have seen or heard something she shouldn’t have done . . .’
‘But she said she hadn’t . . .’
‘That didn’t stop one of the directors thinking she had. He paid an assassin to kill her and make it look like an accident.’
‘Where does the human meat come into it?’
‘We’re not sure yet. We think that people are being murdered somewhere in Eastern Europe, turned into cuts of meat, and then transported here under the umbrella of beef – or horse meat. Four of the workers – thinking it was horse meat – were then paid to mix it in with the real beef.’
‘You mean people have been eating human meat?’
‘Yes.’
‘Who? Where?’
‘All over the country?’
‘You mean . . . ?’
‘I wouldn’t dwell on that if I were you.’
‘Oh God! What about the children?’
‘I think it’s best if we don’t . . .’
‘You’re kidding, aren’t you?’
‘Of course I am. Have you heard from Cookie yet?’
‘Yes. She sent me a text saying she was all right and that she’d call me in the next couple of days with an update.’
‘I’m glad.’
Chapter Twenty-One
Wednesday, April 10
Rene Hollitt was downstairs tied to the kitchen table. He’d snatched her earlier as she arrived home from work in the dark – it had been easy. Even though Fannie Binetti’s murder was being reported in the newspapers and on the television, Rene obviously hadn’t thought that she might be next.
After shaking himself he pulled up his zip and flushed the chain. As he washed his hands, he saw the man in the mirror. He wasn’t handsome, but then he wasn’t ugly either. He was just a plain man who now lived alone.
His mum had died last week. There were a few people at her funeral. He’d been polite even though he hadn’t known most of them. Some had been distant relatives who only seemed to appear at funerals, while others were her local friends who would disappear from his life now that she was dead. He had no friends. He kept himself to himself – always had done.
If his mother had still been alive, he would never have done what he was doing. She would never have allowed it. If she’d found out she would have grabbed him by the ear and marched him right down to the police station – and no two-ways about it.
‘Here, you can have him,’ she would say.
The police officer behind the desk would know her from a time when parents were parents, and a clip round the ear didn’t do them any harm.
‘Go on, Gary,’ she would order him, with her hands on her hips like a force of nature. ‘You tell that nice policeman what terrible things you’ve been doing to those lovely women – shame on you. And shame on me for bringing you into the world.’
He smiled at the thought of her, and tears welled in his eyes. ‘I miss you, mum.’
And he did miss her terribly. Her death had released him to move on with his life, but moving on meant that five women had to die.
She watched him as he entered the kitchen. Her eyes followed him, afraid of what he might do next. He was more prepared this time. The knives and other items were laid out on the worktop like a surgeon’s instruments in an operating theatre. And in his own way, he was a surgeon. He was cutting out the cancer from his life – one woman at a time.
‘Do you remember me?’
She shook her head.
In a way, the fact that they didn’t recall who he was made it that much worse.
‘Don’t worry, you soon will.’
As he cut her clothes up the middle with the scissors he said, ‘You’ve let yourself go.’ She used to have long blonde hair, a beautiful face and a slim figure. Now, her hair was short and pink, and her body was layered with rolls of fat. ‘I had a crush on you, you know, but I suppose most of the boys did as well.’ He let out a laugh. ‘I think we’ve all had a lucky escape.’
She wriggled and grunted as her jogging top and bra fell apart. The rolls of fat shuddered, and her breasts were pulled down left and right by gravitational forces.
‘Is it true you’re a lesbian now?’
She stared at him with tears in her eyes.
‘It’s sad to see what you’ve become, but soon it won’t matter. With your body in the condition it’s in, I should think you’ll be glad to die.’
Rene struggled against the ties.
‘Oh yes, you’re going to die – just like Fannie. First though, we must make things right between us.’
He yanked down her jogging bottoms and knickers.
‘You’ve pissed on my kitchen table and floor – how disgusting.’ He picked up the small kitchen knife. ‘Are you ready, Rene?’
It took him thirty-five minutes this time to carve the broken heart into her rolls of fat – practice makes perfect. And, if he was being honest, he was quite enjoying himself. There were no thoughts about what his mother might say, and no fear of her catching him being naughty again. She had caught him just that one time, but it had been enough to change his life forever. He had found a dirty magazine on the way home from school, smuggled it into the house and up to his bedroom. That night, looking at the pictures of naked women, he had masturbated and fallen asleep – sperm still splattered over his hand, the magazine and the bed sheet.
‘You filthy perverted child,’ his mother had screamed at him when she’d come into his bedroom to check on him.
He sat bolt upright wondering where he was and what was happening.
She had flogged him with a dripping wet towel.
He was too stunned even to defend himself.
‘No wonder your father left.’
He saw something in her eyes that night that he had never seen before and never saw again.
‘You’re the devil’s bastard, you dirty evil monster.’
The wet towel fell on his penis, his back, his face, his legs . . . he was drenched, and his skin burned as if he had descended into the fires of hell.
He begged her to stop, but she only stopped when he lay still sobbing. She took the magazine, locked him in his room and wouldn’t let him out for a week.
Yes, it was as if the shackles had been removed. Now, he could do anything he wanted without fear of retributio
n. He was free of the chains that had held him a prisoner all his life, free to choose his own path.
He finished his own initials and then carved hers – RH. After he’d made himself a coffee, he mopped the piss up from the floor. Once he’d disposed of the body, he’d have to come back and disinfect the whole kitchen. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but Rene Hollitt had turned out to be a major disappointment. Maybe he’d set his sights too high. He wondered if Yolanda Lusko had weathered the passing of years any better. Well, he’d find out tomorrow night.
Rene stirred and opened her eyes.
He smiled. ‘Remember me now, Rene?’
She nodded.
He picked up the large knife, and as he pushed the blade through a gap in her ribs and into her heart, he watched the light die in her eyes. ‘It’s important that you remember, Rene.’
Just like before, he disposed of the body in a waste bin behind a row of shops, but this time in Cadmore Lane, just off the High street in Cheshunt.
***
It was past midnight when two nurses wheeled Xena to the surgical ward on a gurney. After they’d made her comfortable, and commenced fifteen minute observations, he was allowed into the room. He pulled up a chair by the right side of the bed and held her hand – the back of her other hand looked like a junction box for needles and tubes.
He was so tired. Resting his forehead on the bed, he soon drifted off. He began dreaming that he was standing on a precipice looking out over a volcanic landscape – there were hot springs, geysers and strange looking animals . . ..
‘What the hell are you doing?’
He was being forced off that precipice, but he clung on with his fingertips. He felt disoriented. Where was he? Who was trying to cast him into the abyss? He jerked upright. ‘Oh, it’s you.’
‘You sound disappointed.’
‘I do not. I’m really happy you’re alive. How do you feel?’
‘You didn’t take advantage of me while I was unconscious, did you?’
‘I never would.’
‘Then why are you holding my hand like a guilty person?’
He let go of her hand. ‘I wasn’t watching your back. I should have seen what you were going through. I should . . .’
‘You should shut the hell up, numpty. Even I didn’t see it coming, so how could you?’
