This room was his bedroom. There was a double bed, unmade, the covers piled in the middle of the bed. It had a female touch to it. He could not get away from the fact that his wife had lived in this house. The colour palette was pale and soft. Gentle for sleep. There were lots of cushions on the bed, something a woman usually did. The room was empty.
I had to go downstairs. He wasn’t up here. The adrenaline was coursing through my body. I was twitchy as hell but I had to get this over with.
I crept down the stairs, knife in the palm of my hand, heading towards the beating music. At the bottom of the stairs I could see the kitchen and I could see the half closed door to the living room where I now expected to find him. I took a deep breath in and pushed open the door.
He was there, spread out on the sofa, one arm dangling off towards the floor. His head twisted so his face was away from me. There were multiple empty bottles of beer open around him on the carpet. He was asleep even though this was where the music was emanating from. He was sleeping through this din. It must be throbbing through him because it was doing the same to me. How out of it must he be to sleep through this racket? My best bet would be to leave it on while I did this.
It was funny, but while I was faced with my prey this way, I felt a little paralysed. I had attacked the woman in the car park from behind and it had simply been her knee I had cut. A knee was nothing. It was meaningless. Well, it seemed that way even if I knew it would kill her. But here I was faced with the front of a human being and I was here to kill him. Was it any wonder I was pausing?
I stood there, with the knife in my hand, just looking. If I would do this to him, where would I strike? The most obvious and easy place would be his stomach. He was lying on his back spread out, all his organs and important areas open for me to attack.
The music was coming from two speakers up on the wall, I imagined his phone on the floor at the side of him was providing the source.
He was a slim man. Any knife, if delivered deep enough, would hit something important. I could get two or three hits in before he even had time to react. I could do those and leave. I could pick up his phone so he couldn’t call for help, and leave. In fact, if I picked up his phone first so I didn’t forget it in the panic then I’d be prepared. That would be the most preparation I had done this evening.
I had to do this. To help Hashim. To clear my mind and my guilt of Beth. Not that I wanted to clear my mind of Beth, but of what had happened this evening. A kill like this would take away the quiet murder I had gone through with Beth. I had to do this.
I had no choice.
I picked up his phone and put it in my pocket. I would switch it off when I left. I needed it on now so the music was playing to cover any sounds that might occur. He didn’t stir.
I lifted my hand above the sleeping male. His life was about to end.
I stepped closer and caught his side profile. He looked familiar. His hair short and dark. I leaned over him to look at his face.
I let my arm drop back down to my side.
It couldn’t be.
How did I not know this?
The man lying on the sofa in front of me was Seth.
53
I thought back to my conversations with Hashim and realised he had never mentioned his neighbour by name. How could I know?
I stared at the man I had shared my bed with. Thoughts swirled rapidly through my head. It was only one night. He had become clingy and too much for me.
But could I really do this?
I thought back to Beth and what I had done. I needed to force the gentle memory of her loss from my mind with the violence of this night here in front of me. And Seth had brought this on himself. I had promised I would kill him if I saw him again.
I lifted my arm.
With a grunt I brought the knife down and sliced into his stomach. His eyes flicked open, disorientation flickering through them. I dragged the blade out sideways so it would damage more organs, then I heaved and slammed it back in and sliced sideways again as I dragged it out of him. His arms flew out like they were puppet strings.
Blood pumped out of the two wounds I had already caused. This was the most blood I had ever seen. I raised the knife again but he was lifting himself, his eyes swirling in his head, unable to orientate himself. He couldn’t figure out what was happening but he did know it wasn’t good. He was upright in a sitting position, blood pooling in his lap. I twisted sideways and brought my arm down and backwards into his stomach again, and again I dragged it as I pulled it out.
His arm reached for me. His unfocused eyes had picked me out. He knew I was the source of his pain and suffering. His hand grasped at me. He grabbed hold of my arm. I pulled away. I had no idea if he could focus enough to recognise it was me doing this to him. It was time for me to leave.
His grip was solid, tight, rigid. He knew something was amiss and I was responsible and he wasn’t going to let me go. His other hand went to his stomach. It was pumping out blood. Red and wet and covering all surrounding surfaces. His stomach, his lap, his legs, the sofa, it was all covered.
‘What the fuck?’ he spat out finally, his eyes now pinned on mine. Incomprehension infused with the fear.
He had hold of my arm with the knife. I grabbed hold of the knife with my other hand, my left hand and I swiped down into his arm. There was not a lot of power as it was left-handed and I wasn’t particularly in control of the movement. I slashed. His hand opened and I was released. He yowled in protest and the hand that had been holding his stomach together came up and punched me hard in the face. He was starting to realise he was fighting for his life.
His fist connected with my cheekbone just below my eye and my vision greyed out temporarily. I tasted blood, metallic on the inside of my cheek. He knocked me backwards with the blow, even so, I managed to keep my fist curled around the knife.
As he had leaned forward to punch me he fell forward off the sofa and was on his knees on the carpet, blood now pouring from his wounds. He was running his hands along the carpet, looking for something, for the phone I had removed. He lifted his head and looked at me, not understanding. I swapped the knife back into my strong hand, raised it high and brought it down into the space in front of his collarbone and dug as deep down as I could; it ground against his collarbone and I winced at the feeling of metal on bone and then brought it out, the grinding rattling up my arm. There was a sucking sound as I yanked it out and he finally collapsed onto the ground. One of his hands was still slowly moving, searching, but all energy had gone from him.
This had been a messy job. I hadn’t done well with this. He had grabbed me, but luckily on my clothing, not on my head or anywhere he could pull away DNA, and the clothing would be disposed of like it was last time I did this.
I had to get out of here. It was a real mess and the longer I stayed here the greater the risk of transference. As I walked out of the living room, I could see I was trailing partial bloody footprints. I stood in each one and rubbed it with each foot up and down and side to side to obscure its size and make. I’d definitely be getting rid of these trainers. But giving them my trainer size could identify that the killer was a woman. That was a hell of a lot more information than I wanted to provide. This had been a sloppy job tonight. I was annoyed at myself. I’d done this out of grief and distress and I’d made a real mess of it. Now I needed to clear it up. I shoved the knife into my pocket, pulled the cap low over my face and left the house. In the car I sat in the plastic sheeting I had put down before I left home, which was at least one thing I had considered doing properly. And it was a good job I had done this. I was covered in blood. I needed to make sure I got into my house without anyone seeing me. Though the black clothing was doing a good job of hiding it, I was well aware of how much of it there was.
It was late, or very early, depending on how you looked at it, so I should be able to sneak back into my house without any problems. I pulled the phone out of my pocket and turned it off so that it wouldn’t
be able give any location data away other than this house. I would get rid of it but separate it from the rest of my stuff from tonight in case they did manage to find the phone. I didn’t want them to find the bloody clothes in case they managed to pull my DNA off them.
The drive over was uneventful and it wasn’t long until I was parked back in front of the safety of my own home. I gathered the plastic up off the seat and cringed as it crinkled in my hands. To my ears it sounded loud in the street. All the lights were now off in all the houses on the road. Everyone was asleep, or at least trying, or pretending. I didn’t want to disturb them with crinkling plastic.
I got into the house as fast as I could, shoving the plastic sheeting from the car straight into a bin bag and leaving it open ready for my clothes to be dumped in.
I dragged the bag into the bathroom with me and stripped off as before. Every item I wore was thrown into the bag, including underwear and trainers, and hat, and hairnet. In the bathroom mirror I saw the swelling and bruising that was starting under my left eye. I would have to explain this to anyone I saw tomorrow. With two fingers I gently touched it – it was tender. He had caught me hard. I hadn’t been expecting that one. I’d have to be more careful if I was ever in that position in the future.
I jumped into the shower and with a scrubbing brush I did the best I could to clean myself. But I knew that there would be trace evidence on me. The only thing I could do would be to not get caught so the police wouldn’t test me.
As I stood under the tumbling water I thought back over the night. The quietness of Beth’s home as we had said our goodbyes. How peaceful it had been especially compared to the fight with Seth.
I was glad I had gone over to do that straight after Beth’s. I was fired up from it. It had gone some way to erasing the pain of supporting Beth in her act of saying goodbye. I hadn’t wanted to do that but I had done it because of her. Because she so desperately wanted to do it and to not do so with her would have been disrespectful and hurtful and I didn’t want to do that to Beth, so I had gone through with it and in doing so I had hurt myself. So it had been necessary to follow that with something brutal. Though it shouldn’t have been so messy. I was wrong to have it go that way. I was sloppy and I’m not a sloppy person. If this came around and bit me on the arse I had no one to blame but myself. The biggest shock was that the neighbour was Seth. He had been a little too enthusiastic about our relationship when I had not wanted one, but I had not expected him to be there this evening, I had not expected to have to do this. But it was over. I had to get past it.
The water was hot and it soothed me. I scrubbed under my nails for fifteen minutes. I washed my hair four times even though it had been pushed under my hat and tucked under a hairnet. I was meticulous about attempting to clean all evidential trace away even though I knew it was a useless task.
Once out of the shower and dressed, I looked at my home. I was tired. Should I go out tonight and get rid of this stuff or wait until the morning? I knew that the best way to do it was to go out tonight.
I inhaled. I was exhausted. Killing Seth had done what I had needed it to do. All I wanted was to curl up in bed and go to sleep but I had to finish the job properly. I slipped my summer pumps on and picked up the bag of rubbish that was now triple tied off. I collected the phone from the table and I walked out to the car. The sooner I did this the sooner I would be back at home climbing into bed and sleeping away the worst night of my life.
54
I worked as quickly as I could. It was starting to get light and I panicked that someone would see me, early risers like milkmen or post vans and shift workers. But even though I did see a couple of people on the roads I didn’t see anyone when I was looking for large industrial bins to use. I managed to find two that I could get rid of my goods in.
The problem was that the bins were slightly fuller this time and I had to dig down, move rubbish, get dirty and hide my bag below what was already in there. I would need another shower when I got home. I stunk from making sure my rubbish was well hidden. Again the knife went in the river. It would never be found on the bottom of the Waveney.
Once I’d had a quick five-minute shower I climbed into bed and curled up. The quiet of my room surrounded me, and now I had finally stopped moving and acting and reacting, all my emotions crowded in and I cried some more. Lilac was with me. Her wide eyes staring at me as I sobbed. No words could explain to her what had occurred that night. No words could explain what I had lost and how I had been the one to cause the loss I was grieving for.
I had done all this to myself, but it had been at Beth’s bidding. It felt like I had ripped my own heart out.
Eventually I cried myself to sleep.
Morning light filtered through my eyelids and woke me reminding me of the night before. I was stiff and uncomfortable. I didn’t want to get up. I stared at the clock. It was 5.15 am. Beth would still be alone. No one would be with her yet. She would be cold and alone in her bed.
I rubbed my face. I needed to get through the day as best as I could. I was sure someone would knock on my door at some point and until then I had to get on with the day.
I moved through to the kitchen and made myself a cup of coffee. I needed something a little stronger than tea this morning. No sooner had I drunk half a cup than I regretted my choice. I didn’t want to be so alert and awake. It was going to be a long day, I didn’t need to spend it buzzed on coffee.
My laptop was on the table. I sat down in front of it and started to work. I was close to the end of the novel. I decided that trying to get a few words down would be helpful. Focusing on something else other than Beth would be good for me.
Chloe was furious and I had to work from here.
She knew the killer would strike again but she had lost her connection to him. She had texted him multiple times but the texts had failed to go through. He had disconnected his account. She was livid. Her team noticed but tried to keep their heads down. She couldn’t help but feel responsible for everything that happened and for what was about to happen because he would strike again and she wouldn’t be there to stop him.
After a day of paperwork she went home, still furious with herself, knowing she could do more to stop him. In the kitchen she stood in front of the hob making herself some pasta when she heard breaking glass. It was a small tinkle but enough for her to know someone was breaking into her home. She picked up a knife from the knife block and walked towards the sound. She found the smashed window but no sign of anyone there.
‘Hello, Chloe.’ The voice was behind her.
She spun around and was finally face to face with the man she had been hunting for months. The man who had killed Max. She knew this without him saying a single other word to her.
‘You’re under arrest.’ Her voice was little more than a squeak out of her throat and he laughed. He actually laughed at her. A full throaty wicked laugh as though it was the funniest thing he had heard all day.
‘For the murder of Maxwell Black,’ she said.
He threw his head back in mirth.
She took a step forward and that was when she saw his blade. It was long and sharp, and deadlier than the one she was holding in her hand. Was she really going to get into an actual knife fight? It wasn’t what she wanted. What she wanted was to bring him in and have him stand trial for what he had done. If it wasn’t possible, then dead was just as acceptable. But she knew he was a hell of a lot better at this than she was. She was out of her depth. She moved closer and he side-stepped her, his long legs making the move seem smooth and sleek. His arm came out and nearly managed to wrap itself around her neck as he slid to the side of her. She ducked out just in time. But he slid sideways again and he was behind her. He grabbed a bunch of her hair and he had her. As simple as that. She didn’t think he’d seen the knife she was holding. She wasn’t going to warn him. She wasn’t going to tell him. She had seconds to make a decision before he slipped his blade along her throat as he had Max’s. She thrust her hand
backwards and into his gut, heaving upwards at the same time. Reflexively he dug his blade straight into her back and they both slumped to the floor.
I couldn’t concentrate. That was all I could write. My mind was skittering all over the place.
I went for a swim at the Lido but no sooner had I hit the water than I wanted to get out and crawl back home and under my covers. The cool water was no soother for me today. I wrapped my towel around me, shoved my clothes in my bag and walked home in the sunshine, dripping wet with the towel around my shoulders.
My feet were heavy like concrete. I wanted nothing more than to escape into nothingness. The water dripped off me as I trudged down the street to my house leaving a wet trail of my passage back to my bed. I knew I’d have to strip out of my costume once I was back but I could do that inside my home. All I needed now was to get back there. As I approached my door my phone rang. I fished it out my bag and stared at the display. It was Hashim. I answered.
‘Hashim, how are you?’
His voice was high-pitched and slightly panicked. ‘Alice, are you free for a coffee this morning?’
Shit. I didn’t plan on doing this with him quite so soon. I hadn’t thought about it at all, if I was honest. I hadn’t thought about anything last night, that had been the problem.
‘Of course, but are you all right?’
‘I’ve had a bit of a shock and could do with a friendly face for half an hour.’
We agreed that I’d shower off from the pool and I’d meet him in our usual place.
I was there early. I was twitchy as hell. I wanted to be seated before Hashim got there so he didn’t see my nerves as I walked into the room, but he still managed to get there before me. I saw him sitting at a table cradling a coffee. I walked over to him and it was as though I was walking on ice. It was utterly bizarre. My legs were shaky. I thought he would be able to see that everything was my fault by looking at the way I walked.
Perfect Murder Page 20
