by Lee Weeks
It was midnight when JJ Ellerman crept up the stairs to his bedroom. He tried to be as quiet as possible, as light as a feather on his feet. He didn’t do it because he was kind and didn’t want to wake her. He did it in the hope of catching her out. He hoped to see a moment that revealed what was in her heart, her soul, her bed. He longed to know his wife again.
Chapter 17
The next morning, whilst Willis went to see her mother, Carter went to catch up with Sandford, who was working on Olivia Grantham’s car. The Fiat was just a shell now.
Carter put on his protective suit and walked in past the drying cabinet and saw the seat covers hanging inside.
‘Was there much on those?’ he asked, stopping in front of the glass.
Sandford answered from inside the car; he talked through the gap where the windscreen had been.
‘There was. But most of it isn’t any good. Matching to the samples taken from her flat – there were at least two other people in this car after Olivia got out. Their prints are over hers. But they wore gloves. Of course there was a dog in there as well. Its paw-prints were pretty distinct.’
Sandford carried on working on the inside of the car. He was looking slightly irritated at Carter’s presence.
Carter knew it and it didn’t bother him. ‘Care to elaborate?’ The sooner Sandford stopped resisting, the sooner it would be over.
Sandford stood, and bent backwards to ease his aching back. He was a tall man to fit into a small car.
‘The dog had blood on its paws when it made contact with several sites on the upholstery and the door frames,’ he said as he pulled off his gloves and put them into a waste bin. He motioned to Carter to follow him as he walked across to his desk and the PC. He brought up the images of the car examination.
‘There are traces of it on the driver’s door.’ He showed Carter a diagram of the evidence recovered and where it was in and on the car. The 3D image rotated as Sandford tapped the keyboard.
‘There were things taken from the car – the first-aid kit was ripped open. The spare-wheel kit is also missing. Not that you get much in these new cars – a spare tyre and a few tools. But they’re gone. I’ve asked for a full list of what the car should have had in it, from Fiat. Here, highlighted, you have all the sites in the car that I’ve matched to the two different glove-prints and the dog’s paws.’
Carter sat down to study the screen better. He counted the sites.
‘I count twelve places. They got around in that car. Can you get a print from the glove?’
‘I’m working on it. I also found traces of blue cashmere. It’s got to be hers.’
‘The blue coat the caretaker said she was wearing.’
‘Were there any fibres that match that at the crime scene?’
‘Not so far. Round up some suspects and I’ll match them to the traces left in this car. Have you done that yet?’
Carter let the question pass him by.
‘Have you had a look at Toffee’s clothes?’ he asked. ‘We got them back from the hospital.’
‘Yes, I did. There are traces of Olivia’s blood on them. Were there any swabs taken from his genitalia?’ asked Sandford.
‘No. He’d been washed by the time we got to him. He went straight down for an operation before we could take any samples.’
‘Shame.’
‘Yeah.’
‘You still might get something.’
‘No. We tried, believe me, but we have bite marks on Olivia Grantham’s body; it’s a dog – but you never know, we might be able to tie in all this information and get the owner, especially with what you’ve found. We also have skin particles beneath her fingernails. There are several sites of bruising on her body – we might be able to pull off a fingerprint or two.’
‘Do we know why she went in there?’ asked Sandford.
‘She was on sex sites. She went in there to have sex. Toffee says something went wrong – something he was involved in. But he also said he tried to save her. He is guilty of something and he is our key witness to what happened to her. He had several small cuts and bruises on his face. It could have been from the train but it looked like someone had punched him in the face a few times.’
‘Can we get a knuckle imprint from the bruises on his face?’
‘Listen, to be honest, if he was dead we could get anything we wanted, but right now the hospital aren’t too keen on us taking samples from him. I’ll get what else I can.’
‘Are you facing an enquiry?’
‘For what?’
‘For his injuries?’
‘No, I hope not. Willis was there. There are witnesses.’
‘Good luck.’
Chapter 18
Ellerman awoke not knowing where he was for a few seconds. He was in no-man’s land between wake and sleep, where his eyes had opened but his dreams continued and the room was dark. The curtains had folds that seemed to him like a tidal wave of water in front of him. It was so near he raised his hand in the air to see if he could touch it. His hand passed through the ghost of the wave.
He closed his eyes and slept again.
When he awoke next time, morning had come to bang on his head like rapping knuckles. He reached for his phone and saw it was nearly nine o’clock. His own bed was the only place he ever slept so late. He would have been up and gone at anyone else’s house.
He turned to look at the empty space next to him. The pillow smelt of his wife. He listened hard and heard the sound of movement downstairs. He heard the scrape of the chair on the kitchen floor as she stood and he heard the click of a switch, the kettle boiling. He lay there thinking, his hands spread out along the sheets, and he ran through the events of the last few days. He thought of Megan again and he smiled to himself. She excited him. Maybe she was the one to change his life, to turn it round and give him back some luck. She had money. She wanted him. He could tap into that. Would it be enough for him to leave Dee? How many times had he thought that before, with every new woman? He didn’t like to consider it. He looked at his phone again and at his text messages. He had four already this morning. The women had all missed their morning text from him because he had overslept; he normally sent a round of texts as he left in the morning – always by eight anyway. He’d have to answer them soon, before they started calling him. He’d send one text to them all now to keep them happy. He sent a text to Paula in Reading and one to Lisa in Brighton, Emily in Taunton and finally to Megan on Dartmoor.
Morning, my beautiful wild woman – miss you. xx
He showered and went downstairs. Dee looked up at him and smiled mechanically. There was no happiness in her eyes. Her smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.
Nothing has changed, thought Ellerman. She is the same. He could almost feel her flinch as he passed. He strode across to the kettle and made as much noise as he could. He stood with his back to her as he waited for the kettle to boil. He looked out at the garden.
‘The bank keep ringing,’ she said, in her quiet voice; it had an apologetic but at the same time accusing tone.
‘Yes, I know. I’m dealing with it.’ He could sense that she would love to say more, that if he turned round now and asked her what she really felt, she would open her mouth and the truth would explode in an eruption of volcanic hate that nothing would stem. She blamed him for everything.
‘Why did you come back early this week?’ she asked.
‘I’m not staying. I just came to pick up some papers I left behind. I’ll be off again this morning, just as soon as I’m packed. I’ll see you Friday as usual.’
‘Would you like lunch before you go?’
‘No, sorry – can’t hang about – people to see, money to make. Someone’s got to dig us out of this hole, after all.’ Ellerman made himself coffee then took it into his office and closed the door. He sat at his desk and rested his head in his hands, closed his eyes as he thought things through. A text came from the bank – he needed to put some money in by the end of the day. He s
crolled through his emails for any sign of good news. He found none. Christ’s sake – could something go right for him for once!
He looked around at the office and the photos on the wall. They were from holidays. There was a photo of him and Craig fishing in Florida. There was one of the three of them in Disneyland, when Craig was eight. There was Ellerman’s favourite photo of his wife. Dee was standing looking happy – her face flushed with the sun. She was laughing at him. He remembered taking the photo. That was just before they bought this house. It was after they’d secured their first big sale. It was before it all went wrong.
He sent a text to Paula:
On my way.
Chapter 19
Willis was half watching the news, or rather reading the subtitles, when her mother’s case psychiatrist, Dr Lydia Reese, entered the waiting room.
‘Thanks for meeting me here.’ She extended her hand in a fingers-only handshake. Her hand swallowed by Willis’s own. The doctor managed to look perfect even after working a seventy-hour week. Her auburn hair was clipped back from her pretty face in several clasps. She had no make-up. Her face had a fresh, scrubbed look. ‘Your mother should be sent back to Rampton soon. She’s been brought here to this general hospital whilst her injuries heal.’
‘Are you sure she can’t escape?’
There was a pause as the doctor seemed to gauge her response. She smiled but her light blue eyes pierced.
‘That’s not a concern at the moment.’
‘But she is handcuffed?’
‘Yes . . . Ebony, I understand you have a less than perfect relationship with your mother . . . Annabelle, but . . . I am slightly disappointed that you seemed so reluctant to come in and see her. It’s been a fortnight since Christmas. A fortnight since we called you. It’s such a shame that this happened because she was responding so well to her new treatment. I had hopes that we could get it under control.
‘She’s on a drip still; she is taking a small amount of food now but she still talks about wanting to die. She really inflicted a lot of damage with the razor. She needed over seventy stitches.’
‘Where?’
‘What do you mean? Where was she when she tried to kill herself?’
‘No. Where on herself did she cut?’
The doctor looked at Willis as if she were asking something unsavoury.
‘On her arms mainly.’
‘Where did she get the razor?’
‘We think she became a little too close to one of the members of staff and she stole it.’
‘What happened to him?’ Willis hid a smile.
The doctor didn’t answer but she couldn’t hide her surprised expression at Willis guessing it was a male.
‘The nurse in question has been transferred to another hospital.’
‘Why did she say she did it?’
‘Suicide attempts are quite common from someone serving life; they reach a point a year or two into the sentence when they would rather die than serve it.’
‘She can never come out.’ The doctor’s expression showed that she wasn’t sure how to repond. ‘I mean this self-harming – it isn’t gaining her anything, is it?’ Willis added.
‘No. If anything, it lessens her chance of ever being transferred to a normal prison and therefore qualifying for parole. I’m sorry but if she’s suicidal it shows she’s still mentally unstable. Follow me, she is in a side ward with another patient from Rampton.’
As they entered the ward, Willis saw her mother with her shock of platinum-blonde hair glowing like a halo in the sunlight.
She looks like an angel, she thought. Her mother used to say: Bella is a fairy – she is a captured ballerina in a jewellery box – open the box and watch her dance. She remembered how her mother would get up and dance, turning circles on her tiptoes – dancing around the room, laughing and twirling until she’d collapse onto a chair, laughing. Willis remembered watching her mother dance and feeling her happiness. Once she had tried to join in, but her mother had snapped at her: ‘Sit down, Ebony, you look ridiculous.’
As they walked in, a male nurse passed them. He had Jamey written on his name badge. Willis felt the swish of air, the smell of something on him – sex. By the time she looked back up her mother was watching her approach. For a second, Willis felt her feet stop – stop dead. She looked at the pregnant woman in the bed across from her mother. The woman was handcuffed to the rails of her bed. She seemed so still that she looked dead. Until she jerked upright in her bed, snatching at her handcuffs, and screamed obscenities at Willis. The ward was filled with screaming.
‘Don’t bother about her.’ Bella glared across at the pregnant woman. ‘She can’t hurt us. Big fat ugly lump.’
Willis stopped a few feet away from her mother’s bed. ‘Hello, Bella.’ Her mother was as beautiful as ever – she had the look of a 1960s French film star: chiselled cheekbones and deep ocean-blue eyes.
Annabelle was looking past her, watching the nurse until he was out of sight. Then she sighed deeply.
‘Why didn’t you come and see me on Christmas Day? I know they rang you. They must have told you I was injured. I was in such pain. I wanted you to come here so badly. I thought I was dying. I wanted to tell you something. I was frightened it was too late.’
‘You were never fond of Christmas.’
‘Ah.’ Her mother lost any residual smile and her face became the flip side that Willis knew well. ‘I lost a lot of blood, you know – I could have died.’
‘You did it to yourself.’ Willis took off her coat and draped it over the back of the chair before sitting down.
Bella laughed drily. ‘Not really, darling. I was upset. I was a little angry, perhaps. I . . . I saw the razor and I thought: You are worthless, Bella – you are a monster. You’ve failed the very person you love more than anyone else in the world. You’ve failed your baby.’ She threw herself back onto her pillow and seemed to be gasping for breath. She turned her head and kept her eyes on Willis. ‘That’s you, Ebony, darling. You’ve been my reason for living, my raison d’être. Everything we went through in life we did together.’ Willis started shaking her head; she turned away. ‘What? What? I know I was a terrible mother. I didn’t get diagnosed early enough with my medical problems. No one helped me. No one but you, my little baby girl. You were my world. Remember how you used to ask me to dance. We used to twirl round the room together. Ahhhh, Ebony, my little girl . . . you kept me safe all those years. It was only when you left that . . .’
‘I didn’t leave – I was taken away for my own protection.’
‘They didn’t understand how much I needed you. You were the very thing that kept me under control, kept my illness from spiralling out of control.’
‘I spent my childhood waiting for you to explode.’
‘I know – I know – that’s exactly what you did. You were so steady, so quiet. You were always watching with those big brown eyes of yours – always looking after your mummy. Weren’t you, darling? You were a very special child. My child. My flesh and blood. Born from my womb, brought into the world by my will and desire. Mine . . .’
‘You can’t use a child like that. I was your daughter, not your nurse. Not your possession. It wasn’t right to make me responsible for you. What do you want from me?’
‘It’s only now that I’ve been having so much therapy, after I tried to kill myself.’ She looked at Willis as if waiting to be contradicted. ‘They tell me I have all sorts of conflicting feelings towards you.’ Willis couldn’t hide her smile. ‘What? Why is that funny? I don’t want to feel anger towards you – you are all I have in this world. I need to make my peace with you. Because I do take responsibility for the way my life has gone – to a certain extent. And I do know that you are the most important person in my life and I haven’t always been as fair as I could have been.’
Willis looked at her mother. She would only need to wait. She knew her mother better than any psychiatrist or doctor.
‘That’s why I at
tacked myself with the razor – I thought: You don’t deserve to live. You know I adore you. You were a tiny baby, I loved you so. I held you in my arms and we danced and danced and people said to me – what a good baby, she sleeps, never cries, but she doesn’t smile, does she?’
‘Bitch . . .!’ the pregnant woman screamed across at them.
She was leaning towards them as far as her handcuffed arm would allow.
‘Shut up, you worthless piece of pregnant scum,’ Bella hissed across at her. She turned back to Willis. ‘You think that I want to be out of that place, that I want to move to an open prison and show how much I’ve learnt about growing vegetables, and you think I want to earn my freedom?’
‘It had crossed my mind.’
Bella laughed. It was a laugh that was high and false.
She turned a sweetened face back to Willis and reached out her hand. ‘You’re no “catch”, you know.’ Willis resisted the urge to recoil.
‘I swear your father was a good-looking man. The best-looking black guy I was ever with. And yet . . .’ She reached out again and pushed Willis’s hair back from her face. Willis held still. ‘I do believe you are growing into a kind of beauty – unique. Yes – I can see it now.’
Her mother’s smile slowly eased.
‘Do you have any memories of your father?’
‘There were so many men in my childhood. Not sure if he was one of them.’
‘What do you mean? I wasn’t some slut who bedded men left, right and centre.’
‘Maybe not, but you loved a fair few.’ The pregnant woman choked with laughter.
‘Well, you can judge me any way you want but I am asking for us to go forward with a new relationship now; put the past behind us. It’s not as if I can do any more harm stuck in there.’
Willis smiled. ‘We both know that’s not true. What about the member of staff who you stole the razor from?’
She shrugged. ‘He was a stupid boy who fell for the oldest trick in the book. He deserved everything he got.’
