by Kit Tinsley
Rob left the room to get them a coffee. Wendy pointed at the second painting, the dinner party scene.
'I don't think I've seen this one before.’
Julia always appreciated how much attention Wendy paid to her work. She could remember every painting of hers she had ever seen.
'Probably not,' Julia replied. 'It's really old. I did that when I was still in art college. If you look, it's signed by Julia West.'
It sounded weird saying her maiden name out loud. It didn't ring right in her ears. She loved the name Draper, and it was not as if she had many good memories of the West family.
'Helen bought it at a jumble sale of all places,' Rob said, reappearing behind them with coffees. 'She paid about twenty pounds for it, but she knew it was yours and worth a lot more.'
Julia took her drink from him.
'She sounds like she was a wonderful woman, from what Wendy tells me. I wish I'd had the chance to meet her'
'She was the best,' Rob said.
'It was such a tragedy, what happened to her,' Wendy said.
Rob bowed his head. His eyes closed, as if in a silent prayer. When he looked up his eyes had moistened.
'I live in your old house,' Julia said.
Rob gave a wistful laugh.
'It was her house. She saw it, she loved it, we had to have it.'
Julia could understand this feeling. She had been the same way when she first saw the house. Just in the brochure in the estate agents it had captivated her. She had not thought of it before, but maybe houses had genders, or at the very least they had a gender-specific appeal. Their old house in Darton, for instance, was nice enough. Modern, tidy and well designed. Yet, something about it had never sat right with her. It was a man's house. The new house, though, seemed to call out to women more than men.
'It's a beautiful house,' Julia agreed.
'Yes, but I had to sell it. Too many ghosts.'
Julia saw Wendy's eyes widen at the word.
'Ghosts?' Wendy asked.
Rob laughed.
'Not literally. I mean there were just so many memories there. It was overwhelming. I couldn't face going back there after she…' he trailed off. It still obviously caused him so much pain.
'You loved her very much, didn't you?' Julia said.
Rob rubbed his eyes to stop the tears that were seeking to emerge.
'It took losing her to really figure that out.’
'What do you mean?' Wendy asked.
Julia couldn't believe she was being so blunt, but with Wendy that's what you got.
'We don't mean to pry,' Julia said.
'A lot of it is very personal,' he explained. 'But, basically, we went through a bad patch and I made a stupid mistake. We'd just started to repair things when she was taken from me.'
There was no stopping the tears this time. He sobbed into his hands like a lost child. Julia got up and walked over to him. She put her hand on his shoulder.
'We're sorry if we upset you.’
He looked up and forced a smile, and then he dried his tears with the sleeve of his shirt.
'No,' he said. 'It feels good to talk about her. Would you like to see the shrine?'
There was something inherently disturbing about the word. Julia recoiled a little, pulling her hand away from his shoulder.
Rob shook his head.
'It's not as creepy as it sounds. That's just what I call it. I just keep most of my photos of her and things like that in the back bedroom. If you want to see them, you're more than welcome.'
Julia nodded and Rob led them out of the room and up the stairs. At the back of the house was a double bedroom. It was comfortably decorated. In the middle was a large bed. The rest of the room was taken up with tables, and dressing tables and a sideboard. All of them were covered in photographs of Helen, all of them in stylish frames.
Julia and Wendy looked through some of them. Helen was smiling in most of them. She had been a stunning woman in life, with a radiant smile. Julia could see why he loved her so much.
'I know it's a little morbid, keeping all of these like this, I just can't bring myself to get rid of them.'
'Don't be embarrassed,' Julia said. 'It's obvious that you worshipped your wife.'
Rob beamed with pride. He walked over and picked up a photograph of Helen in her wedding dress. Full of life, and full of hope. His eyes watered again and he looked at Julia with an expression of despair and disgust.
'Then why did I do what I did to her?' he asked.
Wendy's face showed the same shock and nerves that Julia felt in the pit of her stomach. Had Rob just confessed to murdering his wife? If this was the case, the seemingly placid man in front of them was the Lincoln Ripper. Julia was meant to be his next victim, and she had just walked in his home, and brought her best friend. Two for the price of one. Julia scanned the room, searching for something she could use in order to defend them. Apart from the photographs, there was little else in the room.
She looked at the closed door. She had a clear run at it. Part of her just wanted to bolt for it and not look back. Wendy, however, was by the far wall. Rob stood between them. If Julia ran, Wendy would be unable to follow.
Realisation spread across Rob's face as he figured out what both women were thinking.
'Oh God, no. I didn't mean that. I didn't. I couldn't have done that.'
'Sorry if we looked a little worried,' Julia said, feeling herself relax a little. 'It was just a really weird thing to say.'
Rob slumped down on the bed.
'This is something I've never told anyone,' he said. 'I never even admitted it to Helen, but for some reason I feel I can trust you.'
'It's okay,' she said, trying not to sound too eager. 'You can tell us.'
Rob took a deep breath.
'I had an affair,' he was not able to look at either woman.
Julia felt a twinge of nausea in her stomach, some sort of sympathetic disgust on Helen's behalf. She made an effort to swallow it down inside her. Turning on Rob wouldn't get them any answers. Wendy, however, looked furious.
'I thought you worshipped your wife,' Wendy said, her tone harsh.
'I did,' his voice was full of sorrow and regret. 'We went through a rough patch. I was feeling very low. I was looking for a little comfort, and I met this girl.'
Julia went over and put her hand on his shoulder once more.
'We're not here to judge you,' she said. 'I'm sure you had your reasons.'
'Thank you,' he said, starting to sob once more. 'You're a kind woman. Please look around all you want.'
He looked as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, as if in some way by confessing to them he had confessed to Helen herself. He had obviously been punishing himself for years. There was no need for them to prolong his pain.
Wendy picked up a photograph.
'Is this you and Helen?'
Rob took the photograph from her.
'Yes, It's a terrible picture. All blurred and faded. I keep it cos it's the earliest picture I have of us. That's from when I was in medical school.'
'You're a doctor?' Julia asked. 'So is my husband.'
Rob shook his head.
'I didn't have the stomach for it. I dropped out in my third year, when Helen's career started to take off.'
'You knew each other that long?' Wendy asked.
'That's when we met. She was actually going out with my friend Steve, who I shared a flat with. He's the other guy in the picture. They broke up. Later me and Helen got together. Steven was a good sport about it. We were all good friends. We lost contact when I dropped out. Last thing I heard he was a surgeon and married.'
Julia knew without Wendy handing her the blurred snapshot, and without the next thing Rob said.
'His name was Draper too.’
Julia looked at the blurred image but recognised him anyway.
'Yes, he is a surgeon,' she said, still looking down at the picture. 'He's my husband.'
CHAPTER SIX
TEEN
Steven was still sitting on the stairs when the doorbell rang. He clenched his teeth as he got up and crossed to the door.
'I told you to fuck off!' he yelled as he opened it. The man standing at the door looked shocked at the welcome. Steven felt so flustered it took him a few moments to realise that this was the detective he had spoken to at the hospital the night before.
'Detective erm?' Steven said, unable to remember the name in his embarrassment.
'Fluting,' the detective said. He looked as perplexed as Steven felt. 'Doctor Draper, isn't it? Of course. You live here?'
This was a peculiar question seeing as how Fluting had visited him.
'Yes,' he replied. 'Is this about that scalpel?'
Fluting stepped into the house without being invited. Steven stood aside and let him. The detective looked around.
'No, I'm here to see Julia Draper.'
'Julia's my wife,' Steven said. 'What's this about?'
Fluting stared at him, his eyes unflinching. There was something about the detective’s gaze that made Steven squirm.
'It's a personal matter, I'm afraid, sir. Is she here?'
'No, she should be back later,' Steven told him.
'Oh, was that her I just saw leaving?' Fluting asked.
Steven really felt nervous now. His stomach churned as he tried to think of a plausible answer.
'No,' he said. 'That was, er, just one of the nurses come by to pass on a message.'
There was a glint in Fluting’s eyes and he nodded. Steven didn't think his story had been believed, and in some way it had clearly angered the detective whose brow had furrowed.
'Would you like to leave a note for Julia?' Steven asked in a wavering voice.
'No, you can,' Fluting said, before grabbing Steven and pulling him violently towards him. He spun him around, holding his arm so far up his back that Steven yelped in pain. Fluting snapped a handcuff on one of Steven's wrists.
'Doctor Draper, you are under arrest for the murders of ten women,' Fluting said.
'What?' Steven asked. This was like a surreal dream.
'You have the right to remain silent. However, anything you fail to mention, which you later rely on in court, may damage your defence.'
'This is ridiculous!' Steven yelled. He tried to struggle free but Fluting thrust his arm up higher. Steven feared it would break soon.
'You have the right to a solicitor,' Fluting continued. 'If you cannot afford a solicitor, then one will be appointed for you by the court. Do you understand these rights as I have read them?'
'I haven't done anything,' Steven pleaded.
'Do you understand these rights as I have read them?' Fluting repeated, his anger barely contained.
'Yes,' Steven replied, like a reprimanded child.
'Good,' Fluting said.
He handed Steven a notepad and pen.
'Here, leave a note for your wife.'
Steven didn't understand what was happening. None of this made sense. It was all some huge mistake. He took the pen and started to scrawl a note to Julia, not knowing what the hell he was going to say.
Julia and Wendy were standing outside the house in the early afternoon sunshine that had followed the rain of the morning.
Rob was in his doorway.
'I just don't understand why Steve didn't tell you about this before you bought the place,'
Julia was thinking the same thing. Yes, she knew that they had agreed not to talk about their pasts and former partners. This she knew was mainly down to her insecurities and jealousies. Surely, though, that didn't extend to not mentioning that they were planning to buy his murdered ex-girlfriend’s home. There had to be more to it.
'I'm sure he had his reasons,' she said distracted.
'Oh,' Wendy said. 'Before I forget, Helen told me once that she had a brother. Did the police ever suspect him?'
Once again Wendy was being as subtle as a cannonball. However, it was something they had failed to sneak into the thread of the conversation.
'Who, Philip?' Rob said 'Yeah, they did for a while. He's dead though, apparently.'
'Do you think he could have done it?' Julia asked.
Rob shrugged.
'I never met the guy. He ran away to Holland a few years before I even met Helen. No one had heard from him since then. He and Helen were never close.'
'Why not?' Wendy asked.
'He was a bad apple,' Rob said. 'He was messed up in some pretty serious shit. Helen said he was crazy, like a wild animal. He held some big grudge against her as well.'
'What for?' Julia asked.
'Philip was gay. Always had been,' he explained. 'When they were little she used to tease him about it. Nothing serious, just kid stuff. He took it personally and never forgave her.'
Julia thought about asking more questions, but felt they had taken up too much of his time, and, also, the revelation that Helen was her own husband’s ex-girlfriend had left her feeling uneasy.
'Thank you for the coffee,' she said, deciding it was best just to leave.
'No, thank you for the company. Please, come again, and bring Steve. It'd be great to catch up with him.'
Julia thought this was unlikely, but there was no sense in hurting Rob's feelings.
'I'll see what I can do. Goodbye.'
Wendy threw in her farewell, and they headed back to Wendy's car. She was convinced of one thing: the man may have been a cheat, but she was certain he was no killer.
As she opened the car door she looked back at Rob. He was no longer looking at them. He was looking down the road smiling and waving. Julia followed his gaze and saw a boy of about thirteen walking towards the house. He was dressed in a school uniform. He walked up to the gate and opened it. Rob stood aside and playfully ruffled the boy's hair like any proud father. Except, the boy's dirty blond hair and blue eyes told her that Rob wasn't his father. The boy was the spitting image of Steven.
That was the reason why he had never told her about Helen Swanson. They had a child. A child that Steven had just abandoned and left his friend to raise as his own. Did Rob know? Julia assumed he must have. The boy's resemblance to Steven was uncanny. She had seen photographs of her husband at that age, and they could be the same child.
Wendy searched the back seat frantically, lifting up coats and magazine, her brows furrowed.
'Have you seen my handbag?' she asked Julia. 'I thought I'd left it in the car.'
'No,' Julia said.
Wendy continued to search the backseat for her missing handbag.
Julia watched as Rob and the boy went inside. She wondered if Steven actually knew. Of course he did. Why else would he have kept so quiet about knowing Helen Swanson? He knew full well that another man had taken on the responsibility for raising his child.
'Shit!' Wendy said, hitting the steering wheel. 'I must have left it at Helga's Place.'
Julia really couldn't face seeing the psychic again.
'Pick it up this evening.' she said, trying to encourage Wendy not to suggest going there then.
Her friend agreed and then went to start the engine. She stopped and turned to face her.
'He should have just told you,' Wendy said.
'Yes, he should have.'
'I mean, she was killed in your house. What kind of sicko buys the house his ex was butchered in?' Wendy said, exasperated.
'I guess the fact that he didn't tell me makes him a suspect.'
Wendy's eyes widened.
'What?'
'Let's look at it,' Julia said. 'He's a doctor. He knows how to cut people up. He knew the first victim, intimately, and he sure as hell knows me.'
She couldn't believe these words were coming out of her own mouth. How could she say these things about the man she loved? One thing was clear from what she learnt today. She didn't know her husband as well as she thought she did. If he was capable of keeping such things from her, what further secrets was he hiding?
'What about the other women?' Wendy said
. 'What's Steven's connection to them?'
Julia shook her head.
'I don't know. Perhaps there isn't one. Perhaps they were random.'
Wendy blew a stray hair out of her face, and shook her head.
'Can we eat now? '
Julia checked her watch. It was nearly five o’clock. They had been there far longer than they had planned. Both of them had missed lunch. Julia didn't feel hungry.
'You can, I need you to take me back to my car. I think I need to go and see this Detective Fluting.'
'Why?' Wendy asked.
'Helga said she had spoken to him. I want to know how seriously they are taking her. Besides, I think I need to report what we just found out to the police.'
Wendy agreed. She started the car and turned around. As they headed back towards the city the sun was low. Bright red splashed across the horizon, like a razor slash in the throat of the sky.
Interview Room Two was an especially grim place. The other interview rooms were well lit and painted brightly. Room Two, though, had dull blue walls that looked like they had not seen a paintbrush in many years. The only furniture in the room was an old office table, and two seats. The chairs themselves were plastic and unpadded. Everything about the room was intended to make a suspect feel uncomfortable. That was precisely the reason why Sam had chosen it to question Doctor Draper.
Even though it was illegal, and could get him severely reprimanded, Sam sat opposite Steven smoking a Marlboro.
He blew smoke out in a copious cloud and then held the cigarette up in front of him.
'I gave these things up for five years, you know? I never felt better in my life. You're a doctor, I'm sure you understand.'
Steven looked at him and nodded weakly.
'I swore I'd never start again,' Sam continued. 'All the stress of this case, the constant pressure, I ended up breaking my promise to myself.'
