"What's for tea?" he ventured.
"Depends."
"On what?"
"On how adventurous you want to be." I looked at him, unblinking, unsmiling, as I waited for my words to sink in.
"You've not made anything?"
"Got it in one. If you're not in the mood to cook, there's a Chinese menu in the drawer."
He nodded and said nothing. He walked into the kitchen and began banging and clattering about.
"What the hell, Melissa! Where are the fucking mugs?"
I followed him and opened the cupboard above the kettle.
"What's wrong with the mug tree? And where's everything gone from the worktop? It looks stark in here."
"My—I mean, I'm sick of clutter. I'm in the process of de-cluttering my life."
Gavin nodded once more, his lips so tightly clamped together they were almost non-existent.
I went back through to the lounge and a few minutes later I heard Gavin ordering food.
I grinned to myself and then sensed my mum chuckling.
Gavin stayed in the bedroom until his meal arrived. I was surprised when he presented me with a plate of sweet and sour chicken, my favourite Chinese food.
A teeny twinge of guilt was soon replaced by the strange numbness that had surrounded me for the past couple of days.
I picked at my food, disinterested, although I hadn't eaten a thing all day.
Gavin turned on the TV and the theme music from the six o'clock news went through my head. The headlines were all about some murdered dentist. When the image of the guy from last night flashed on the screen, I almost fainted. I don't know why, but I hadn't even associated the guy on the news with the one from last night.
The news reader described the dentist as a perfect husband and father. Then his pretty, young wife made an appeal for anybody to come forward who might have any information on his brutal murder.
Although distraught, she was blissfully unaware of the massive favour I'd done her. I could have even saved her life and that of their beautiful little daughter.
See, you did the right thing, Mel. I'm so proud of you.
I glanced at Gavin who seemed in total shock. His eyes were much wider than normal, showing lots of the white, which I didn't like, and his jaw hung loose.
I turned back to the screen, needing to listen to what they were saying, the words seemed to run into each other. I wanted to know if they had any suspects, but I was still none the wiser by the time the story changed to a massive flood somewhere in the Pacific Islands.
Gavin had stopped eating and stabbed his fork into the middle of his food and put the plate on the coffee table. He sat forward in his chair and appeared to be struggling with his breathing.
"Are you not hungry after all?" I asked, knowing full well what was wrong with him. I knew I should feel worse than I did.
"What?" He shook his head, looking at me in confusion.
I nodded at his food.
"Oh no, I'll have it later."
"What's wrong with you? Are you sick?"
Of course, he's sick.
I smiled.
"What's so funny?" Gavin snapped.
"Nothing."
His devastated shock thrilled me a little, I could see him trying to compute how two lovers in two weeks had both turned up dead—brutally murdered.
"So what's wrong with you then?" I pushed.
"Nothing, just indigestion. I'm going to lie down."
The noise from the TV penetrated my brain, similar to white noise. I switched it off.
In the silence, I felt able to relax again. I ate a little more food but had no appetite. After a few minutes, I placed my plate next to Gavin's.
When Gavin came back a few hours later, I hadn't moved a muscle and I was surprised how fast the time had passed.
"What's wrong with you, Mel?" He eyed me strangely.
"Tired. Confused."
"About what?" He reached for my hand and I snatched it away.
"About everything, Gavin. Most of all, about us."
He perched on the edge of his seat, worry filling his beautiful blue eyes. His finger and thumb played at his bottom lip as he stared at his feet. My heart contracted.
Don't go all soft on me now—he's brought it on himself.
"I know but …"
Gavin's confused expression made me realise I'd spoken aloud.
"… erm, I just wanted to tell you I'm going to move into Vonny's room for a while."
Gavin nodded again. He seemed so sad that part of me wanted to reach out to him, to comfort him, but another part of me wanted to relish in his misery.
Chapter 14
Frances stood in the doorway of his office, her eyebrows tightly knitted and her mouth turned down at the corners.
"What is it?" Adam asked.
"The results of the post-mortem are in and the findings, or lack of them, are worrying." She glanced at the file in her hand. "They confirm Joseph Bates died from his injuries."
"It doesn't take an expert to work that one out." Adam raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips.
"Also confirmed, the weapon used is similar or indeed the same as the one used in the assault on Carl Pilkington—a pipe wrench."
"Shit! So the two murders are connected?" Adam rubbed a hand across his forehead.
"Seems so. Plus, Bates also had sexual intercourse of a homosexual nature not long before his death." Frances slapped the file onto his desk.
"So we have a serial killer on the loose?" Adam pondered the evidence so far.
The results of the DNA testing of the semen found on Carl Pilkington hadn't turned up anything from the database. So, if the second sample was from the same person, they wouldn’t be any closer to finding the murderer.
Bethany Bates had made a statement earlier today, but she couldn't shed any light on where her husband had been. He told her he was meeting up with a group of dentists from his college days. They met up often, at least once a month, but she didn't know who they were, or where they went.
"There have been a couple of reported sightings of Joseph Bates in the Green Hill Inn at the time he was supposed to be meeting his dentist buddies," Adam told her. "The witnesses recognised his photo on last night’s news."
"Well, at least we have something to go on. Did anyone see who he was with?"
"Both said he'd been in the company of another well-dressed man." Adam rubbed his eyes and sighed. "Other than that, we've got nothing to go on. Zilch. Nada."
"I'm meeting Denise Stubbs, Bates' receptionist, this afternoon. Wanna come along for the ride?" Frances asked.
"Sure, why not. I'm going stir crazy here."
Denise Stubbs unlocked the door when Adam and Frances arrived. She explained her boss had been the only dentist in the practice so there seemed no point in opening up.
Adam liked her. Her no-nonsense attitude amused him.
Although upset by the death of her employer, it became evident early on that she knew nothing of use to them. They had worked together for a long time, but their relationship had been purely professional.
"Do you mind if we take a look around?" Adam asked.
"Knock yourself out," Denise said. Her shrug caused her straight brown hair to shimmy. She didn't strike Adam as the type of person to spend hours grooming herself, but her immaculate bob said otherwise.
The surgery held no clues of Joseph Bates the man. It was no different from any other dental surgery he'd visited in his lifetime—the smell made him shudder. He hated dentists.
"So what now?" Denise asked as they stepped back into the reception area.
"In what way, Ms Stubbs?"
"I've obviously lost my job, but will I get any extra pay to tide me over. I've got two young kiddies at home and a useless drunk of a husband."
"That's nothing to do with us I'm afraid. But I'm sure there'll be something to protect you in this case. You would’ve signed a contract, I presume?" Adam said.
Denise nodded.
"It should tell you what length of notice you’re entitled to."
"Oh yeah, I never thought of that."
"Thanks for making time to meet us, Ms Stubbs. And good luck for the future."
"You're a nice guy for a DI, aren't you, sir?" Frances said as they approached the car.
"I'd appreciate it if you kept that gold nugget to yourself, Frances." He laughed.
***
I called in sick for Gavin the next morning.
He refused to get out of bed which is where he stayed for the rest of the week. He blamed it all on a cold, but I knew the real reason. By the weekend, he seemed fine again.
I made the decision to give my notice in at work. I wasn't coping and although the visits from my mum had subsided, they still concerned me.
Could I be losing my grip? Or maybe I was having a temporary blip to help me get through these tough times.
I missed Mum not being around, weird as it seemed. She'd been a fantastic help over the past week or so, although, in my rational mind, I knew this couldn't be possible.
As a child, I remembered Mum and Dad having terrible fights. Mum would smash furniture, pots and pans, ornaments, mirrors, in fact, anything that got in her way. Dad put up with more than most men would. However, Mum's crazy behaviour would make him flip his lid and he’d lash out at her, if only to stop her hurting one of us.
Mum used to scream the place down and the neighbours would call the police. Instead of taking Dad away, the police knew Mum was the real abuser. In fact, on occasion, she even attacked the police as they entered the property.
My first happy interlude was when I was eight years old. Mum had been marched off by the police and was gone for weeks. Dad and I settled into a normal and easy routine. I would go to school, he would go to work and we would cook dinner together and play games in the evenings. He taught me how to play chess and we had some terrific tournaments. Of course, Dad always won but I gave a good game.
One day, I came home from school and she met me at the front gate.
Things seemed fine at first. Mum took over the household chores and even cooked proper meals for us when we returned home in the evening. Dad and I began to relax and stopped tiptoeing around her.
Until she blew up again, that is.
There were no warning signs, just sudden out and out destruction and mayhem. Then there was the mental and physical abuse.
This became a regular pattern for years, until one day, she never returned.
Dad blamed her for my condition. He tried his best to give me a stable and secure home life after that, but the damage had already been done. At twelve years old I first attempted suicide and was diagnosed with bipolar disorder.
I never saw Mum again. Dad said she'd completely left the building—gone nutty he meant.
She died when I was nineteen years old. Dad and I were the only ones at her funeral.
After her death, my problems seemed to settle down. I began to sleep in my bed, instead of underneath. I got a job at the local post office sorting mail. By the time I met Gavin I was pretty much normal.
Or so I thought.
My specialist insisted I stayed on the meds, and apart from a few wobbly moments after giving birth to each of the children, I'd had no real problems. However, it seemed as soon as my idyllic life hit a bump in the road, the odd behaviour returned and with a vengeance.
Since Gavin had been sick and holed up in his room, I'd once again taken control and assumed the role of nursemaid. My life seemed to function much better with a purpose. I'd lost that purpose for a while there, but I now felt back on track.
Gavin was my husband and I was his wife, in sickness and in health.
So I slotted back into my daily routine and by Sunday it was as though the past month hadn't even happened.
Chapter 15
Adam didn't know how a full week passed by so fast, but he was glad it had.
He'd arranged to take Amanda to the movies tonight and for a bite of supper afterwards. After listing all the new release movies, Amanda made a suggestion of her own.
He suspected she intended to test his romantic tolerance levels when she chose the classic showing of Wuthering Heights.
Adam had heard of it. Who hadn't? Kate Bush had even sung about it, but other than that, he knew nothing.
Amanda, dressed more casually than she had last week, looked stunning in her brown slacks, red jersey and black high heeled boots.
She didn't invite him in this time, stepping through the front door as he pulled up outside.
Amanda ordered a huge box of popcorn and a chocolate topped ice-cream to take into the theatre. He considered suggesting they share her popcorn but thought she might think him a cheapskate, so he decided to order a small one for himself instead.
The movie wasn't all gushy and romantic and beautiful as he'd imagined. The powerful and raw emotions in the first few scenes amazed him, and he felt gutted when Heathcliff went away.
Amanda sniffled and he turned to see her crying into her popcorn. As the tears poured down her cheeks, she looked up and smiled at him.
Whether it was the melancholy feelings the movie had provoked in him, or the heart-wrenching, thought-provoking situation the characters found themselves in, or even the old English romantic way the actors spoke, but she caused his heart to miss a beat. He knew he loved her at that very moment.
By the end of the movie, he was beside himself. He'd been certain there would be a happy-ever-after ending.
As the main character, Cathy, died, a sob caught in his throat and he could barely breathe. A knot in his stomach seemed to be curling in on itself and he feared a physical injury might be occurring. He brushed away a couple of tears and coughed.
He left the cinema with a heavy heart. He never imagined these feelings could be caused by a movie.
Still sobbing by the time they got to the car, Amanda said, "That was lovely." She wiped her eyes on a scrap of tissue. "Poor Heathcliff."
"Lovely?" he cried, horrified. "You've got to be joking. I thought old movies were all sweetness and light. I've never been so distraught in all my life!" He stared at her, shaking his head.
Amanda burst out laughing and a snot bubble blew from her nose. There was a brief pause as they stared at each other, unsure of what to say—then they burst out laughing.
Adam couldn't regain control of himself and they were both reduced to hysterical wrecks.
"Never would have thought—" Amanda snorted. "—that we would be laughing after …" Amanda held her stomach before continuing. "… such a beautiful film," she said in a high-pitched voice.
Adam couldn't reply. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed so hard.
This woman was good for him.
Afterwards, they went for pizza. They were so easy together, and Adam found himself opening up about his past, telling her more than he'd told anybody before.
"I never thought about your situation when I suggested the film. How insensitive of me," she said.
"To be honest, I didn't associate any of it with Sarah. She never suffered in front of me, her death was over and done with in a flash, leaving an empty hole where my heart had been." He smiled and rubbed his stubbly jaw. "Not very macho I know."
Amanda reached for his hand across the table. Her eyes full of compassion and understanding, but not pity. He hated pity.
"I sometimes think, although illness is terrible, and watching a person you love waste away before your very eyes must be the worst thing ever." He shrugged. "But at least you get to prepare for it—to plan what you'll do with your life—albeit tentatively. With a sudden death, it feels as though you've been hit by a juggernaut, but your mind is paralysed instead of your body."
"I know that feeling," Amanda said. "Things happening all around you as though you're in some kind of a bubble."
"Exactly." Adam nodded.
"Don't you struggle having to deal with death and deliver devastating news day in day out th
e way you do?"
"Yeah, of course, but I can't stop these things from happening by refusing to do my job. I can, however, help those left behind by trying to make sense of what has happened to their loved ones and by bringing the culprit to justice."
"It must be hard on you when you can't solve a crime, or when you do, but don't get the satisfaction of getting the person to pay for their crimes."
They both knew they were talking, once again, about her brother. Andrew had escaped after killing three of the paedophiles that had abused them both repeatedly as children—one of them being their own father.
"There are certain situations when even I want the bad guys to get away. Obviously, I would arrest them and go through the motions if the opportunity presented itself—I'm a detective first and foremost. But in your brother's case, what he did by ridding the world of those disgusting creatures—I kind of applaud him."
Amanda's eyes filled with tears and she bent her head, wiping them away with her napkin.
"Not that I'd admit what I just said to anyone else, of course. My job would be on the line, you understand?"
She nodded and smiled, squeezing his hand. "Perfectly."
Chapter 16
The week progressed smoothly. My mother, apart from the odd little snippet of interference, had been rather quiet.
By Wednesday, I felt good and much more settled.
I decided to call the girls for a catch up, the first in a while.
The phone answered on the first ring and I was deafened by Stella screaming in my ear.
"Hang on a minute, I'm pulling over."
I shook my head—my youngest daughter never failed to irritate me.
"Hello, Mum. Sorry about that—I'm just on my way home from work?"
"Hi Stella, are you all right to chat or should I call back later?"
"No, you're fine. I intended to ring you when I got home anyway. Guess what?"
"I give in, tell me," I said, too exhausted to play guessing games.
"I've been promoted," she squealed.
"Fantastic news. Still doing the same thing?" Stella lived in France with her partner Tina and they both worked in the wastewater industry. Not a job for a young woman in my opinion, but she seemed to enjoy it.
Psychological Thriller Series: Adam Stanley Boxed Set: Behind Shadows, Positively Murder and Mind Bender Page 30
