by Jack Probyn
Jake glanced at Nathan’s finger – at the lack of wedding ring – and noted the observation.
‘How long have you been with your wife, Mr—?’
‘I thought this was about Steven and Jessica?’ Nathan said defensively.
‘It is. Forgive me.’ Jake paused and shuffled himself into a more comfortable position on the chair. ‘How would you describe Steven and Jessica’s relationship? Happy? Sad?’
‘What is this about, Detective?’
Jake ignored the question and continued. ‘Did you ever hear about any arguments they may have had? Steven ever complain to you that he wasn’t happy in the relationship? That he was, perhaps, looking for… something else?’
The tension in Nathan’s shoulders eased and he relaxed. ‘What is this about? What’s happened to them?’
Jake exhaled deeply. Then he explained to Nathan, in the possible briefest terms, what had happened to both Steven and Jessica, making sure to leave out all the gory details.
‘My God…’ Nathan said, wiping sweat from his top lip. ‘I can’t believe it. Who did this?’
‘That’s why I’m here. We need you to help us.’
‘Sure. Anything. Anything I can do to help. I’ll answer everything you need me to.’
‘Thank you,’ Jake said, nodding. He cleared his throat before continuing. ‘Did Steven ever come to you with any fears or concerns that someone may have been watching him, or that someone may have wanted to hurt him?’
Nathan’s head shook violently. His saggy jowls wobbled from side to side. ‘No. No. Nobody comes to mind.’
‘What about drugs, was he involved in those at all?’
‘No. I mean, yes. I think so. Only recreationally. He took them to get his creativity. But I never heard him complain about money or saying that he owed anyone any debts.’
Jake made a note and moved on.
‘What was Steven and Jessica’s personal life like?’
‘I… I… I don’t know. Steven never talked that much about it.’
‘Did he have any other friends?’
‘Yes. No. Well, yes. Only a couple. He mentioned a couple of people he met online, but I never really listened that much.’
‘Did he see them a lot?’ Before Nathan could answer, Jake continued, ‘How would you say his time was divided up – in percentage terms? Between you and his other friends?’
‘It’s difficult… seventy me. Thirty the others. That I know of.’
‘So would you say that you and he were close? You trusted one another.’
Nathan’s head dipped slowly.
‘And, if you don’t mind me asking,’ Jake said, ‘what is your current relationship with your wife like?’
‘How is that relevant?’ Nathan said before he removed his glasses and wiped his forehead with the back of his sleeve.
‘You want to help us find the killer, don’t you?’
Nathan nodded, placing his glasses back on his face and pushing them to the top of his nose.
‘Good. Then please answer the questions. Anything you tell us – no matter how small or trivial – might help us find whoever did this.’
Nathan looked to the carpet then chewed his bottom lip, and for a moment Jake thought he looked different. No longer was he a man of blind arrogance and confidence. No longer was he exuding ignorance. He was small, insignificant, aware of the realities of the world.
‘We’ve not been together for a few months now. She wanted to go on a break.’
‘Why?’ Jake asked, cutting straight to the point.
Nathan allowed a long, slow breath to whistle through his lips. ‘She found me with Jessica one night.’
Jake stopped writing. The pen almost slipped and fell out of his grip.
‘Could you… elaborate?’ Jake asked, trying to process the information.
‘Jessica and I slept together one night. Imogen, my wife, found us going at it in Steven’s gallery.’
Jake sat up straighter in his chair.
‘What about Steven? Did he find out?’
‘He was the one who organised it. He saw how unhappy Imogen and I were, so he thought he’d help me out.’
‘By letting you sleep with his wife?’ Jake asked loudly. An unwelcome image of himself walking in on Elizabeth sleeping with another man – a friend, a colleague, a stranger – flashed in his mind and he instantly dismissed it, willing it to never come true.
‘You don’t understand,’ Nathan began. ‘Imogen and I were struggling. He said it would help. And it did. For a bit. In fact, it was really good. I needed a release and had done for some time. I don’t know if you’ve seen her, but Jessica is… was something else. Smoking hot body. Smoking hot personality too. Steven was a lucky man. But all that fun stopped when Imogen found us. Steven and I didn’t speak about it that much afterwards.’
‘How did he convince you into going along with it?’
‘Steven was… Steven was convincing. He knew what would tip me over the edge. He saw Jessica as a trophy wife. Most men that came across her did. And he knew that, so he exploited that aspect of her. But she didn’t seem to mind. She seemed to enjoy it. Apparently they’d done it before.’
‘With who?’
‘I don’t know. They never said.’
‘How many times had they done this before you?’
‘I don’t know.’
Jake pressed the pen to his lips and bit the end. His mind was whirring, splitting off into a myriad network of tangential possibilities. Who were this couple? Why were they so intent on letting other people into their relationship? And who else had they added to the list of threesomes?
Nathan’s voice brought him back to the present.
‘I’m sorry,’ Nathan said, pushing his glasses up to the crown of his head and wiping at his eyes. ‘I don’t want to discuss this anymore.’
Jake sucked in a breath.
‘Was this a sexual fantasy for Steven, do you know?’
‘I said no more.’
‘Was it a sexual fantasy?’
Nathan hesitated. ‘Yes. I think it was,’ he said, sniffing hard and wiping his nose and upper lip with the back of his hand. ‘He had a lot of bizarre and wild sexual urges. I never judged him on it – he’s entitled to like what he likes. Everyone is. But there was something different about what he was into.’ He paused. ‘He said there was a large group of people that were all like-minded and into the same sort of things. He said there was a community of them that would regularly meet up and do all manner of things to one another. Steven even invited me to join, but I refused. Now… I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you again to leave. I don’t want to answer any more of your questions.’
As Jake left the office, he was certain he’d seen a knowing smile form on Nathan’s face. Either there was something he wasn’t telling him, or he was secretly reliving the experience he’d had with Steven and Jessica.
CHAPTER 16
WELCOME TO THE COMMUNITY
A draft of cold air bristled against Lester’s cheeks as he opened the front door to his house. It concerned him. The air should have been warm, just above room temperature. It should have been still. Exactly the way he’d left it. Which meant there was a draft coming from somewhere in the house – one that had no right being there.
As he crossed the threshold, his body tensed and his hand clenched into a fist. Carefully closing the door behind him, he threw the keys into a small pot that dangled from the wall. He stormed into the kitchen, darting to the drawer nearest the door and rummaging through the contents. Wrapped in his fingers was the seven-inch kitchen blade he’d stolen from Jessica and Steven Arnholt’s gallery. Cleaned and polished, it served as a memento of his time with them both.
Gripping it tightly, he started searching the house. First he moved into the living room, peering around the door. He was half expecting someone to be there, but there wasn’t. A part of him wanted to find someone. So he could make them wish they’d never trespassed onto h
is property. He had a taste for blood now, for slaughter, and nothing was going to stop it. Even though he knew the points would be unofficial and wouldn’t increase his score, it would still be a whole lot of fun.
After making sure the ground floor was clear, he headed upstairs. His feet whispered along the steps, his breathing flat. His pulse stayed at sixty.
As he reached the top of the stairs, he stopped. Held his breath. Listened.
Silence. Except for the sound of wind whistling past an open window. It was coming from the bathroom.
Before going to the bathroom, he checked the rest of the bedrooms and the study. Everything was as he’d left it.
He turned his back on the bedroom and stared at the white door of the bathroom, which was slightly ajar. Again, he stopped to listen. Still nothing.
Lester approached the bathroom, keeping the blade pressed against his leg. With his other hand stretched out, he pushed the door. The hinges gave way and creaked, and as the door bounced against the back wall, he rushed in, his body taut with the onset of adrenaline.
He exhaled deeply, dejected. It was empty. In front of him was an open window. He must have left it open himself.
‘Idiot,’ he chided. ‘You stup—’
Something distracted him – the sound of movement. His gaze darted behind him. On the floor, scratching its head against the door frame, was a cat.
‘What the fuck are you doing here?’ he said, lowering the knife and easing his grip around the weapon.
He bent down to pick up the feline, but it scuttled away into his bedroom. He chased after it, peered beneath the bed and yanked it out by its collar. The cat hissed and squealed at him. He held it aloft, disarming its claws just like he had done when he was child. Moving towards the bathroom, he tightened his grip around the cat’s body and held it out at arm’s length.
As he entered the bathroom, Lester placed the cat on the window’s edge. There was a fifteen-foot drop between the window and solid ground, which, bizarrely, beggared the question of how it had got in in the first place. But right now, Lester didn’t care about that. His only concern was how it would get down. And he had the perfect answer.
Beneath his house, to the right, was a main road. A couple walking their dog meandered along, arm in arm, talking with one another. He hated the sight of them and their wide smiles. He imagined they had a shit sex life. That it was boring. Uneventful. Tasteless. Then he imagined what he’d do to the both of them in one night. How he’d show them things they’d never known were possible. The thoughts excited him, and he struggled to tear himself away from them, like a violent and aggressive STD that kept coming back.
The cat distracted him, slicing his forearm and drawing blood with its sharp claws. Lester squeezed tighter, making sure the animal sensed that it was in imminent danger. He leant against the wall, held his arm out of the window and then launched the cat like a dart. Its arms and legs flailed about as it soared through the air.
After what felt like a long time, it eventually landed on its back and barrel rolled onto the road. It staggered to its feet, disorientated, stumbling then collapsed to one side, where it lay perfectly still for a few moments. Lester held his breath as he watched it struggle; he willed it to cross the road and get run over.
But nothing happened. There were no cars. The road was empty.
The cat was lucky. It had narrowly escaped death. But if Lester saw it again, it wouldn’t be so lucky.
He switched the knife into his other hand and headed downstairs, then opened his laptop and signed into The Community. It was the first thing he did every time he came home, when there weren’t stray animals breaking into his house. After a few seconds, his profile loaded and there, in the top-right corner, underneath his name, was a small red notification above a message icon.
Jessica.
Lester read the message, and as soon as he finished, he masturbated aggressively over Jessica Mann’s news feed, pressing the knife into his leg and stomach for extra stimulation. A few minutes later he was finished and decided to leave the mess in his trousers. There were bigger things to worry about.
Jessica wanted to meet him. She had read his initial message last night but forgotten to reply. But after this morning’s incident she now remembered where she recognised him from. It was a date. Her place. Tonight – 9 p.m. After her flatmate would be gone.
It would be just the two of them in less than seven hours’ time. Now they could solidify their relationship with a Communion. Now Lester could relive the experience and unbinding he’d felt with Jessica and Steven the other night.
Welcome to the real Community.
CHAPTER 17
GOING FISHING
‘Thanks for agreeing to this,’ Drew said as he placed a set of folders on the table. ‘It’s really going to help our investigation.’
‘Good. Good. Helpful,’ Archie Arnold said, sitting upright with his arms placed flat on his knees. ‘Just a few questions?’
‘That’s all it is,’ Garrison said beside Drew. ‘Just a few questions. Nothing serious. We just want to follow on from what our colleague asked you the other day.’
‘Detective Constable Jake Tanner. I liked him,’ Archie said.
‘Good. We’re warming to him too,’ Drew replied
The three of them sat in Interview Room 3. Garrison had been to pick up Archie and then driven back to the station. Apparently he had no means of getting himself to the station and had a phobia of public transport.
The interview room was cold and poorly lit. Drew’s decision. A mild intimidation technique he’d learnt from an old colleague when he was just starting out. The majority of the time it didn’t work because the general public were becoming more and more educated about their rights and the sorts of conditions they should be kept in, but on the infrequent and, arguably miraculous, occasion that his technique did work, its success was evidence enough for Drew to warrant continuing with it.
Drew pretended to start the recording and then paused for a further ten seconds, staring at Archie in complete silence – another trick he’d learnt from the same colleague.
‘How much can you tell us about Steven and Jessica Arnholt, Archie? Were you good friends with them? Meet up at the weekends and go for a little picnic? Get them to read you bedtime stories at night?’
Oh, this was going to be good. He was going to enjoy this.
‘I didn’t know them that well,’ Archie said. ‘Honest. Promise.’
‘Are you sure?’
Archie nodded.
‘You didn’t have little sex parties with them? Take a few drugs with them to help take the edge off, calm the nerves?’
‘Bad. Drugs are bad. Stay away from drugs,’ Archie said, gesticulating with his hands. ‘Honest. Promise.’
‘But prostitutes are fine?’ Garrison remarked and then retreated back into his seat.
‘Are you sure, Archie? I reckon there’s a bookie out there willing to give good odds on that. Five to one maybe?’ Drew paused. His eyebrows rose.
Archie’s rose as well, mirroring Drew’s expression. Then Archie began to bite his finger.
‘I’d say those are quite good odds, considering,’ Drew added.
‘Considering,’ Garrison said, nodding to Archie. ‘So what more can you tell us?’
‘Drugs, bad. Scary. Stay away from drugs.’
Drew sighed heavily as he leant forward on his seat. They were getting nowhere. It was time to turn up the heat. ‘Where were you on the night of the seventeenth?’
‘Indoors. Watching television. University Challenge, my favourite.’
‘All night? From eight till eight in the morning? That seems to me like a really long time. Wouldn’t you agree, DC Garrison?’
‘I would, DS Richmond, I would. I know for certain I’d get bored. Maybe even go for a walk if I wasn’t feeling tired yet. Which… funnily enough, is what we’ve got an eyewitness saying you did. They saw you walking up and down the street. They said they saw you leav
ing your house at around midnight and going into Steven and Jessica’s art gallery at a similar time to when they were murdered. And then they saw a prostitute entering your house shortly after.’
Garrison hesitated and Drew watched the man lick his lips. Their eyes locked before he continued. ‘Really good odds on that one as well. Maybe even better at two to one.’
For a long moment, Archie said nothing. He continued to bite his finger until he drew blood. All three men in the room knew what was happening, even if it did take Archie the longest.
‘Archie…’ Drew insisted. ‘Anything you’d like to say to that?’
‘It’s not true. Honest.’
‘Really? So what were you doing last night?’ Garrison asked.
‘It’s fine,’ Drew interrupted, adjusting his tie. ‘We can always have another meeting if necessary. Perhaps you can tell us if you know what happened to Steven and Jessica Arnholt? Their killer is still out there, and there would be quite a significant reward if we were able to find them. Of course, nothing financial, but you would feel a great sense of pride and servitude if you were able to supply us with a name. Perhaps it was someone you know.’
Another brief moment passed as the room fell silent. Drew heard the sound of his breath as he inhaled sharply. ‘You’re being such a massive help to our investigation, and you don’t even realise it yet.’
‘Finished?’ Archie said, standing up. The chair screeched against the floor.
‘Sit down,’ Drew said sternly.
Beside him, Garrison hefted himself out of his chair and stood between Archie and the door. There was no escape. His task was simple: sit down, shut up and answer the questions.
Tentatively, Archie sat down. He placed his forearms on the arms of the chair.
‘We can either make this really simple or really difficult for you, Archie,’ Drew began, casting a quick glance at the recorder to make sure it definitely was switched off.
