by Matt Shaw
There you go, I admonished, just do what needs to be done then perhaps take a little time out with some of the off-cuts. Give myself a little treat to relax into my last evening in this house. Enjoy myself. I deserved it.
I left the bathroom hoping that, in so doing, I’d be able to hear the positive side much clearer than if I’d stayed there being taunted by the broken mirror – the after-effects of my loss of my self-control. Out of sight, out of mind.
I’m sure I'll feel better once I’d make the phone calls. Any thoughts of a crisis of faith would soon be replaced with both a feeling of excitement and nervousness as the time got ever closer for my work to be revealed. Even then, with just that little thought popping into my mind, a tiny butterfly fluttered in my stomach. A strange sensation but one that was infinitely better than the despair and worthlessness I’d felt in the bathroom.
Get the calls done, I told myself, once more making my way across the hallway and down the stairs to the phone.
I kept playing through what I needed to say when I got through to the relevant people. I’d tell them about the police hiding news from them, and about the whore in the hotel room. I’d give them the name of the detective in charge of the case and would describe what I’d done to the schoolgirl’s eyes and where I had sent them. I’d explain why I was doing it and how my works of art reflected the stinking rot of today’s toxic society. I would keep talking for as long as they’d listen, revealing details of my gallery and what they could expect from it. About then, I’d offer them the chance to come down and take photographs for their papers. Let them know they’ll be the first to see my art. No journalist would ever be able to resist that. And then, when they had been hooked in and wanted more, I’d ask for a mobile number so I could send the address and a warning that the police would soon be here so they may want to get here as quickly as possible. After all, it was hardly likely that they would be invited to stay once the police arrived.
Jesus - all of that sounded so easy in my mind and yet I knew, when it came time to speak to them, I’d get flustered. Possibly even stumble over one or two of my words like a bumbling idiot.
Try not to think about it, I told myself. The more I thought about fluffing my lines, the more likelihood there was of making a mistake and tripping over my words. The same with over-thinking what I had to say - that could only ever end badly too. Besides I was sure I’d still forget something I was supposed to say if I ended up trying to stick to an accurate script. I shook my head. I couldn’t risk it. I had a rough idea of what to tell the people, and a rough plan of what to say. That should be enough. I was intelligent enough to just be able to respond to how they were on the phone.
I picked a newspaper up from where I’d thrown it onto the hallway floor during the week - something I often did once I’d finished reading it. Next I picked up the phone and sat myself down on the lower step of the stairs. Okay. Here we go. I took a deep breath. I’d start with the local press. They’d be the easy ones to get hold of - their phone numbers would be listed on the editorial pages. Start with the easy calls and then move onto the television stations - the ones which would take a little more research...
My hand was visibly shaking as I flicked to the contact section.
Another deep breath.
CHAPTER 25.
WEDNESDAY
No sleep again. Every time I closed my eyes I’d see Benton’s face, and every time I heard a noise in the house or outside, I was sure it would be him and had to get up to check. I hated the fact he’d managed to get inside my head so much. I could never let anyone know of course. I have an image to uphold. This house is a desolate and morose place without Lucy, so empty and quiet. It’s odd how you take for granted having another person share your living space. Still, my routine went on. I washed, skipped shaving again, drank my morning coffee. I didn’t eat because I had no appetite these days, however I smoked a couple of fags. Those things had crept back into my life with depressing ease, but I was determined to stamp them out again, just as soon as this situation had been dealt with.
At least today we might see something happening. The press would be plastering Benton’s face all over the news this morning. I’m curious to see how he copes with all the added pressure and attention. My phone vibrated on the table beside me, and I picked it up to see who the text message was from.
About to go public with the photo. What is this all about???
It was from my friend, Alex. He was my go-to guy in the press if I needed to leak any information. We had known each other since school, and I trusted him completely. Still, I couldn’t fill him in on this, not yet, and so I decided to do the one thing I was getting good at.
Nothing serious. Wanted for questioning, need to add pressure.
I pressed send and hoped he would leave it there, but like a dog chewing a bone, he didn’t. His name flashed up on the display as he called me, and although I half-wanted to ignore it, I picked up and answered.
“Come on, Martin, don’t give me the silent treatment. This is obviously something big, come on, give me something.”
As always, he was right to the point, all business. I couldn’t help but admire him, and thought that under different circumstances, he would have made a really good police officer.
“I can’t give you any more than I already have. We just want him in for questioning, nothing else.”
“Come on, you wouldn’t go national with this unless it was something serious. Can’t you give me something, just a sniff?”
“I can’t, really. I’m sorry.”
“Even off the record?”
Despite everything, I smiled. It was the first time in a while. I knew I shouldn’t say anything, but I also knew I could trust Alex completely, and if he said it was off the record, then I was confident it would remain that way until I gave the nod to go public.
“You can’t go public with this, not even hint at it. Understood?”
“You know me, I wouldn’t fuck this up for you. Come on, spill it. What’s the story with this Benton guy?”
“You better not, because you are literally the only person outside of the investigation who knows. I know I can trust you, but this is something big. Do you understand?”
“Yeah, of course. I won’t breathe a word.”
Despite being able to hear the excitement in his voice, I knew he could be trusted, and so I filled him in. He didn’t interrupt or cut me off, he just listened and let me get it off my chest, which on its own felt good. When I’d finished, there was silence for a few seconds.
“Is Lucy okay?”
“Yeah, she’s safe. I just want to nail this prick, Alex. It’s all I think about.”
“Are you sure you should be keeping this from the public? From what you said, this guy sounds like a fucking loon.”
“Tell me about it, but that’s what he wants. He craves the attention, he wants to be noticed. I’m not about to give him that satisfaction.”
“Even if he kills again?”
I had considered that, and although it pained me to say what came next, I knew it was for the right reasons.
“Yeah, even if he kills again. Believe me, it sounds harsh but if this wanker gets the attention of the public, who knows how far he might go.”
“But why the obsession with you? Where do you fit in?”
“Who knows? I think it was just because I was the first to question him about it. I left him my card and he must have decided that he wanted to involve me in his sick games.”
“So what’s the plan now?”
“Well, I’m hoping that once this goes national we might get a hit from the member of the public. A sighting or something. Of course, there will be all the shitty hoaxes and misinformation, but it will only take one lead to nail him.”
“Well, for the record, I think you're doing the right thing by keeping a lid on it. Last thing you need is public hysteria whilst this guy goes around slicing people up. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Just make sure t
hat photograph gets circulated everywhere. The more pressure I can heap on this guy, the more chance I think he’ll crack.”
“Will do. If I hear anything at my end, I’ll get straight in touch.”
“I appreciate it, thanks Alex.”
“Anytime… Hey Martin, you take care of yourself, okay? You don’t sound too good.”
That was an understatement. I felt like shit, but wasn’t about to admit it. Not with that thing called pride getting in the way.
“I’m fine, really. Just want to get this resolved that’s all. Thanks Alex, I appreciate the support.”
“Anytime pal, I’ll be in touch if anything crops up at my end.”
The line went dead, and I shoved my phone in my pocket. It was time to head in to the office and see if there would be any movement. One thing I was certain of, is that life was about to become a little less easy for our would-be artist.
CHAPTER 26.
WEDNESDAY
The station was a hive of activity when I arrived. Every major news and radio outlet was carrying Benton’s image and description, and almost from the off the phones had been constantly ringing. Patterson looked flustered as I slipped my jacket off and hooked it over the back of my chair.
“Jesus Christ, Martin, I hope you know what you’ve started here. We can’t keep up on the phones.”
“Any solid leads?”
“Who knows, we’re taking information down as it comes in, but the crazies have already started to call in with fucking stories about how Benton is an alien and stuck a probe up them. I swear I wonder about some people in this world.”
I had to stifle a smile at my flustered boss. Like the rest of us, he wasn’t used to such an intense work environment.
“Things will calm down, but to make things easier, I only want to see reports that took place within an initial 5 mile radius. I don’t think he will have strayed too far. If we can prioritise those, Perkins and me will go through them and decide which ones to look into first.”
“I don’t know how you expect to dig any truth out of all these fucking crank calls. Talk about a needle in a haystack.” He shook his head and shrugged.
In truth, I wasn’t sure either. I was relying on something, some instinct to point me in the right direction. I was also relying on Benton too. I’m sure he wouldn’t want to stay hidden from me for too long. And so, with quiet confidence, I retreated to my desk and started to sift through the incoming reports. Patterson was right about one thing: the crazies were really outdoing themselves.
Morning drifted into afternoon, and still the reports came in. We had fielded almost five hundred calls since the news broke, and although I had initially expected some kind of breakthrough, not a single lead looked to be panning out.
My phone started to ring, and I saw Alex’s number flash up on the display.
“Hello?” I said as I lifted the handset to my ear.
“Hey, it’s me. You weren’t lying about the coverage. Every station is carrying this.”
“That was the plan. What have you got for me?”
“Well, to be honest, I’m not sure. I’ve just had a call from a strange-sounding guy. Said he wanted to invite me to his gallery for a special exhibition.”
It was him, I just knew it.
“Did he just send it to you?”
“No, everyone got it. Checked in with a few of my friends. The Star, the Herald and the Express all received the same call. Could this be a copycat or something? An attention-seeker taking advantage of the hype?”
“No, it’s impossible. Nobody knows about the art angle apart from us and you. You didn’t tell anyone did you?”
“No, of course not. I thought you knew me better than that. I made a promise.”
“Sorry, I just needed to check. Where is the exhibition?”
“He said to expect a text with the details first thing tomorrow morning. He hung up after that. Whatever you intended Martin, if this is your guy then he doesn’t seem too bothered by the attention. What do you want me to do?”
“Sit on it for now. With luck, nobody will connect this with our killer, and so might not bother to show up tomorrow. As soon as you get an address, you tell me and only me. I want officers out to whatever location before the rest of the press can get there. Can I count on you?”
“Of course you can. Friends first, right?”
“Thanks Alex. No matter what time it is, you make sure you call me as soon as you get that address. I'll be here at the station waiting.”
“Understood. I’ll get back to you as soon as I get the info.”
I hung up the phone and took a second to take it all in. I knew it was Benton. Could he be finished with his little game? Maybe now that he was in the media, it wasn’t what he had expected and wanted it all to end? As much as that would be nice, I doubted that was the answer. It appeared to me that this had already gone too far for him to just give up.
Whatever he had planned, it seemed to that he wanted the world to see it, and that was something I didn’t like one bit.
CHAPTER 27.
THURSDAY
I wasn’t able to sleep last night. The anticipation of today has been too much and my stomach had been doing turns all night, whilst mixed thoughts of excitement and self-doubt plagued my now-tired mind.
I’d lost count of the amount of times I’d walked around the house, making sure everything was as it should be with the sculptures. Each check revealed all to be well and yet, within five minutes of sitting back down, I’d find myself checking again despite telling myself not to be so stupid and reassuring my brain that it really wasn’t necessary.
By the time the sun had punctured the night-time sky and cast light upon the fields at the back of the house, I was already dressed in my new suit, a tidy black number which fitted beautifully. It even had a waistcoat. A red tie wrapped around my neck with a loose knot. I went with red because it matched, in places, my sculptures. Nice to keep a colour theme going.
I’d wasted a couple more hours walking around the house pacing up and down, and making sure all was still well. It was. Ten minutes, if that, was used to pour champagne into plastic cups I’d picked up on one of my many shopping trips. Couldn’t afford the luxury of crystal glasses. Not that it mattered. After all, I wouldn’t be using the cups again (no matter what they were made of). The cups had then been put onto a large silver tray, an article I’d accidentally stumbled upon when last I was in town. I’d walked past a charity shop and there was the tray - sitting pretty in the store’s window display. Less than five pounds later and it was mine.
I’d moved the tray, as well as the cups of bubbly, through to the hallway. That’s where I’d be standing when the guests would arrive after all. That’s where I’d be handing them out. Chances are I’ll run out pretty early on so I must be sure to keep a cup for Detective Andrews - I wouldn’t want him to feel unwelcome. I wouldn’t want him to look grumpier than need be when it came time to take our pictures for the front pages - me in cuffs and him leading me away.
My heart skipped a beat at the mere thought of it. I’m not sure whether that was down to feeling nervous or excited. Maybe a little bit of both? Time will tell, I guess.
I turned my mobile phone on for the first time in as long as I could remember. Must have been three days since I’d last checked it. A couple more minutes were thankfully wasted as it slowly booted up and came to life. Instantly messages flashed up on the home screen warning me that I had new voice-mail messages. I’m not that desperate to waste time so I wasn’t going to listen to them. Chances are it was only work anyway - no doubt trying to find out what had happened to me. They probably think I’ve died. Or at least had thought that, - before the papers released my photo. Pretty sure they’d now got the message that I wasn’t be going back in.
For some reason my mind bounced back to thinking about Gary standing on some golf course somewhere, a nine-iron in his hand. Not sure what this feeling is that’s bubbling inside of me all of a sudden
? Is it that I’m missing the senile old fart? I concentrated on the feeling. No. It was one of regret. I still quite liked the idea of recreating the tableau of the last supper with him and his wife - both face down in their bowls of soup.
Too late now.
The way my pieces are currently smelling - I couldn’t delay the gallery by another day even if it meant the addition of another great piece of work. Maybe one day, if I ever get out of prison, I’ll be able to recreate another gallery somewhere. Perhaps do it somewhere overseas? Be nice to get out of this damned cold weather... although, if I did end up doing that, I would definitely need to think about getting some air conditioning in to keep the pieces looking fresh for longer.
Jesus - getting ahead of myself. Haven’t even seen the reaction to this gallery yet and already I’m thinking about a second one. Come on. Stop that. One thing at a time...
... And speaking of time.
It was nine o’clock.
The news offices would be open now.
It was time to send a text message or two...
With shaking digits, I hit the button which invited me to create a new text message. Once done I fished in my pocket for the piece of paper on which was written the mobile numbers of my guests. Six numbers in total. It didn’t appear a lot but I knew it was more than enough to get the message out there. Everything else would be done via word of mouth and, thanks to technology, I was expecting it to reach across the seas within hours, if not sooner.
Another heart flutter.
Exciting times indeed.
I started inputting the numbers into the contact section whilst trying to ignore my fluttering heart. To think a couple of weeks ago I was a nobody but, by the end of the day I will be somebody. Somebody famous.
I paused, waiting for the voices of my parents to spoil my moment, but there was just silence. They remained quietly in their graves, where they belonged. I smiled. Still can’t believe I got away with that one. Innocent face I guess - useful for when I told people I had nothing to do with it and it was purely an accident. Hell, from time to time I believe it myself. I didn’t do it. It wasn’t me. It was just dumb luck. I laughed again as I realised just how fortunate I’d been to get away with it and, more importantly - how easy I’d found it to believe in my own lies. Truly a master of deceit. I put the memory to the back of my mind. So easily denied until this slip up. Perhaps I’d come clean about that when the time was right but that time is not now. Before I knew what I was doing I had pressed send on the text.
