Dark of Mind

by Robin Roughley

  When Benny Foster answered Robbins took a deep breath and started to talk.

  59

  'Can you see the shops?'

  Despite the cooling night air, Benny could feel the heat building beneath his clothing as he licked his dry lips. 'Yes,' he whispered.

  'The chip shop is open, right?'

  Foster looked at the steamed-up window of the shop, then a man appeared, wiping the inside of the glass to shift the steam with a handful of blue kitchen roll.

  'Well, is it open or not?'

  'Yes, it's open,' Foster mumbled, his mind still in disarray. 'There's a man inside cleaning the window.'

  'Tall, dark haired, in his fifties?'

  'It's difficult to tell his age but he does look tall and his hair is dark.'

  'He's the target, he's the man you have to kill.'

  Foster felt the sudden thrum of fear flash through his mind and before he knew it unthought-of words fell from his mouth. 'Does he deserve to die?' he asked in a whisper.

  'What did you say?' the voice hissed in fury.

  'I was just wondering what he'd done wrong?'

  'What business is it of yours who I tell you to kill?'

  'I'm sorry but…'

  'I don't want your apologies, you snivelling worm, I saved you, I gave your pathetic life purpose, and you dare to question me!'

  Foster swallowed the lump in his throat as the voice raged.

  'You were nothing, a total nobody and…'

  'But I knew the man in the park.'

  'You interrupted me,' the master sounded astonished.

  'His name was Mr Banks and he wasn't a bad man, he used to come to the library, he loved westerns and books on British birds.'

  'I don't care who he was or what he did, now I want you to go into the shop and stab the man, is that clear?'

  Suddenly, Foster felt his blood run cold as he remembered he no longer had the knife, with all that had happened he had forgotten he'd lost it after killing Mr Banks.

  'I want you to keep stabbing the man until I tell you to stop, I want…'

  'I've lost the knife.'

  Silence followed and the tension in Benny's head increased.

  'Lost the fucking knife?'

  'I'm sorry, I must have dropped it when I was running through the trees…'

  'I made a mistake with you, didn't I, you piece of shit?'

  'Please, I can still do it, I have some money left and I can buy a knife and kill the man.'

  'Fuck the knife, you fool, the target is in a fish and chip shop, he'll have knives there.'

  'But how will I get to them?'

  'Do it now or you will never hear from me again, the police will catch you and then you will be locked up for the rest of your miserable life, imagine that, locked in a small cell with bars on the window with only your fat dead mother for company!'

  The words slammed into Foster and without even realising it he stepped into the road and hurried across, his body now sticky with sweat, his mind clanging in a calamitous roar.

  'I don't care what you have to do but that man must die.'

  'Yes, Master,' Foster squealed as he quickened his pace, homing in on the shop with the steamed-up window.

  60

  The headlights lit up the front of a house with bay windows either side of an oak front door, throwing the large mature gardens into shadow.

  'Looks as if Robbins managed to squirrel some money away before he torched his old place,' Lasser commented with a growl as he leaned down to the open window of Odette's car.

  Clicking open the door, he stepped back to let her out. 'Well, if I remember rightly before he ended up in the unit he'd had a successful career as an accountant, and if he's good at his job and can save his clients' money then they won't care that he spent time locked up for arson.'

  Lasser grunted in agreement as they headed towards the house, when they were fifteen feet away two security lights sprang to life seemingly designed to blind anyone approaching.

  Lasser winced and lowered his head, Odette narrowed her eyes as they made it to the front door where she rang the bell, keeping her finger on the button for at least ten seconds.

  Half a minute later, she stepped back. 'Doesn't look as if he's at home.'

  'Let's see if we can get around the back,' he said as they made their way to the corner of the house and took the path that led down the side, reaching a tall gate Lasser tried the handle and to his surprise it opened on well-oiled hinges.

  As soon as they stepped onto the large patio another set of lights illuminated the whole of the back garden.

  'No one's going to sneak up on this place that's for sure,' Odette said, looking in through a set of French doors, revealing a huge kitchen cum dining room fitted out to a showroom finish.

  'This place reminds me of Robbins,' Lasser said as he looked up at the back of the house, surprisingly all of the windows were minus curtains or blinds.

  Odette glanced at him and frowned. 'I don't follow?'

  'Think about it, when he was in the unit, he knew he would be questioned over what happened to his brother.'

  'But how does this house remind you of that?'

  'Robbins likes to prepare for things, he likes to see what's coming, hence the security lights, but he also knows it's pointless locking gates, so he leaves them open as if to say, ''Hey look, I have nothing to hide so come on in''. He was the same when we grilled him the first time, he admitted telling Pamela Fitzsimmons all about his life, his family, about how his brother stole his wife from under his nose.'

  'We both suspect he primed her to go out there and kill Jake Robbins but there was no proof, Lasser, he walked away from the whole mess.'

  'Yes, and he did it with a frigging smile on his face, he knew he'd covered all the bases, and we were powerless to do anything about it.'

  'That doesn't mean he's involved in any of this.'

  Lasser looked at her and nodded though he looked anything but happy.

  'Come on, we might as well call it a day, it's no use hanging around here in the hope that Robbins will turn up,' Odette said as she turned.

  Lasser followed her back through the gate, grabbing the handle to pull it closed but then he stopped for a moment, his hand slipping away as he set off walking again leaving the gate open.

  Odette glanced over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow. 'You left the gate open.'

  'I know I did.'

  'You want to mess with his head, don't you?'

  Lasser smiled though there was no hint of humour in his dark eyes. 'Got it in one,' he replied.

  With a shake of the head, Odette set off again, Lasser at her shoulder, the anger flickering low in his gut as they walked back towards the cars.

  61

  As soon as the man walked through the door Frank knew something was wrong with the bugger.

  The guy looked totally wired, his eyes wide and glaring, the hood of his jacket was up, circling his spot-encrusted face, Frank had been in the process of wiping the front window and now he felt a flutter of unease run through his body.

  Then suddenly the man dashed across to the counter and shot through the lifted flap.

  'Whoa, hang on, you can't go back there,' Frank warned, dropping the soggy tissue to the floor. The weirdo came to a stop, and as soon as Frank saw his eyes flick to the left, he knew exactly what the man was looking at.

  'Found one!' the head case suddenly bellowed and crossed the small space behind the ovens.

  When he turned, he was brandishing one of the long, sharp, filleting knives.

  'I will, I'll kill him right now!'

  Frank felt the fear and confusion collide in his mind as the scrawny man glared at him over the counter then he was rushing back through the gap and Frank braced himself, his batter-speckled hands bunching into fists.

  'Come on then, you bloody nutcase, let's be having you!'

  Benny Foster lashed out, and Frank managed to leap back, the blade swishing through the air, missing his face b
y inches.

  'Kill you!' Foster roared as he dashed forward, but then suddenly he was screaming when the huge Rottweiler dashed from behind the counter, nails skittering on the tiles, and sank her teeth into the back of his right ankle.

  Frank gasped at the sound of agony and then he was bellowing, 'Tear the bastard a new arsehole, Mandy!'

  Any thought of attacking the man in the white jacket vanished from Foster's mind as the huge dog started to shake its head, tugging at his ankle, the blood spraying onto the pale-blue floor tiles.

  Then he turned and lashed out, the keen edge of the blade slicing across the animal's back, Mandy yelped, her jaw springing open as she backed away.

  'You stabbed my Mandy!' Frank roared in disbelief, then the man was dashing for the door, the wound in his ankle leaving a spattering of red on his way out.

  Frank had taken three long strides towards the door, determined to hunt the bastard down, but then Mandy whimpered, and he went to her side, falling to his knees and taking her considerable weight as her front legs gave way. 'Easy girl, you're going to be fine,' he soothed her as he snatched the phone from the pocket of his overall and feverishly scrolled through the contact list.

  When he came to the letter L, he hit the call button all the while stroking Mandy's mangled left ear.

  'Hang on in there, my darling,' he begged as she started to pant heavily.

  'All right, Frank, what can I do for you?'

  'Some bastard's just stabbed my Mandy!' Frank shouted as the tears rolled from his fear-filled eyes.

  'Where are you?'

  'At the shop, the bugger came barging in and grabbed the filleting knife and went for me with it, he would have finished me for good if it hadn't been for her.'

  'Have you called a vet?'

  'I'm going to do it now, but you need to catch the mad scrawny bastard, his ankle's mangled, and I can see him staggering off down Broadway.' Frank said, twisting his head as the figure half hopped, half ran towards the road.

  'I'll be there in ten minutes,' Lasser promised.

  Ending the call Frank felt the despair close around his heart as Mandy's large trusting eyes started to close.

  'Oh, Jesus no!' he wailed as he lowered his head and started to kiss her grey muzzle.

  62

  Bradley Robbins could feel the sweat on his brow, the tension in the small cubicle mounting with every anxiety-filled second that ticked away. He knew that the longer he stayed in the gents the more fragile his alibi became.

  'Can you see him?' he urged in a hiss.

  'I see him now,' Zero replied.

  'Get him in the car and take him somewhere quiet.'

  'Somewhere quiet?'

  'Yes, yes, I'll ring you back within the next half an hour and…'

  'But I thought you would have planned for me to take the man somewhere?'

  A trickle of sweat ran into Robbins's right eye and he winced at the sting. 'Just get out of the town, you fool.'

  'Understood.'

  Again, the phone died, only this time Bradley Robbins was grateful as he took a huge gulp of disinfectant-tinged air before pocketing the phone and sliding the bolt back on the door. Moving over to the sinks, he washed his hands and splashed some water onto his face before looking at his reflection in the mirror, he looked as guilty as sin, his eyes wide and full of panic.

  'Calm down,' he hissed at his reflection before grabbing a handful of tissues from the dispenser to dry his hands and face with.

  Making his way back into the lounge of the clubhouse, he saw the barman turn from the table, the glass of orange juice in his hand.

  'Oh sorry, Mr Robbins, I thought you'd left,' Samuel said as he placed the glass back on the table.

  Robbins managed to smile though he could feel the fear rising inside. 'I felt unwell, either it's something I ate, or I've spent too long in the sun,' he replied trying to sound light-hearted.

  'Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, is there anything I can get you?'

  Robbins shook his head. 'No, I'll be fine but time to head home I think.'

  'Well, I hope you feel easier,' the barman said as he picked the glass back up and headed towards the bar.

  Bradley Robbins didn't bother with a reply but hurried to the door and stepped out into the evening air, his body felt clammy as he made his way over to the car and sank behind the wheel, his right hand shaking as he tried to slip the key into the ignition.

  Inside his normally calm mind he could feel the tension grow and he winced as he felt the first stab of pain heralding a migraine.

  'Bastard thing,' he spat as at last the key slid in and he started the engine.

  Taking another gulp of air, he pulled off the car park, it was only when he reached the end of the long lane that he realised that he hadn't put the headlights on.

  With a groan of despair, he flicked them on and got his foot down.

  63

  Foster sat slumped in the passenger seat, his head tilted back, whimpering at the crushing pain in his ankle, he could feel the blood running into his shoe, squelching when he moved his toes.

  He had just reached the point when he was sure he would collapse to the pavement when the car had pulled up to the kerb and the passenger door had sprung open.

  'The master sent me, you have to get into the car,' the man behind the wheel had urged and Foster had hobbled over before falling into the seat.

  When he heard the wailing siren, he had hunched lower in the seat, his eyes screwed shut as the sound increased, when it went flying by, he actually squealed in fear.

  'Don't worry, the police won't get you,' the man behind the wheel said in a low deep voice.

  Licking his dry lips, Benny Foster turned and looked at the driver. 'The master sent you to take care of me?' he asked, his voice hinting at awe.

  The man nodded, keeping his eyes on the road as he slowed down and took a left. 'He told me you needed help, so here I am.'

  Benny closed his eyes again, his face twisted with anguish as he relived the horror in the chip shop, only this time it felt like an out of body experience, he could see himself storming behind the counter and grabbing the knife. When he saw his own face, Foster gasped as he realised that he hardly recognised himself at all, his face was twisted, his mouth opening and closing answering the voice in his ear that told him to, ''Kill the bastard''.

  The pain in his ankle flared as he recalled the huge dog sinking its savage fangs into his flesh, the pain had been excruciating, breaking the spell of the voice on the phone completely.

  Now, he felt damned as he realised what he had done, the voice had told him to kill a man though he had refused to say why, refused to give examples of why the owner of the chip shop had to die. He pictured Mr Banks again, a kind man, a man with a family, Foster cringed as he suddenly pictured Banks coming into the library years earlier with his young grandson in tow.

  'I want to get the lad something good to read, Benny, something that he'll love,' Mr Banks had said.

  Foster could remember taking them both to the children's section and he had picked a couple of Roald Dahl books for the boy to read.

  Two weeks later they were both back.

  'He absolutely loved them, didn't you, Tommy?' Mr Banks had said with a warm smile.

  The boy had looked up at Benny with wide eyes as if he was looking at some kind of all-knowing oracle. 'They were fantastic, I loved the part when they sailed down the chocolate river in a big toffee boat!'

  As the car glided down the road, Foster felt more tears spill from his eyes, only this time they were tears of regret and guilt as he thought of Tommy, who had to be at least fourteen now, trying to come to terms with the death of his grandfather. Then his mother waddled into his mind, only this time he didn't see her as a grotesque blob of a human being, he saw her as someone in turmoil, someone who was actually ill and not just eating themselves to death for the love of food.

  'Are you all right?' the man behind the wheel asked.

  Benny Foster co
uldn't even respond as the horror of what he had become crushed him with despair.

  64

  Bannister looked at the blood-smeared floor, hands on his hips as the front window of the shop started to steam up again.

  'Where's Lasser?' he asked.

  Odette was standing near the counter as if waiting to get served with a fish supper. 'Heading over to the vets with Frank.'

  'The bloody vets?' Bannister scowled at the reply.

  By the time she had finished telling him about what had happened and Mandy still being alive when they arrived his face had softened slightly.

  'Well, let's hope she pulls through,' he said with a sigh. 'Now, what else do we know?'

  'To be honest not much, we were over at Bradley Robbins's house when Frank rang and…'

  'Hang on, what were you doing over there?'

  'I mentioned Robbins to Carole, and she said to check him out.'

  Bannister pursed his lips. 'Bet Lasser was chuffed about that.'

  'Like I said, it was my idea.'

  'So, what did Robbins have to say?'

  'Nothing, he wasn't at home and then Frank called so we headed straight over here.'

  Bannister nodded in understanding, and then the door opened and Spenner walked in, the blood-splattered knife held in a clear evidence bag.

  'Found the weapon, boss,' he said as he handed it over.

  Bannister held the bag up to the light. 'This is a filleting knife,' he said as he walked over to the gap in the counter and moved behind the range of ovens, when he saw the wooden block of knives on the worktop, he gave his earlobe a tug.

  'The bastard must have come back here and used one of Frank's own knives in the attack,' he said as Odette leaned over the counter to look at the wooden block, one slot empty.

  Moving back into the shop, the DCI handed the knife back. 'Get it to SOCO we need to know about any fingerprints or DNA.'

  Spenner nodded and hurried back out of the shop.

  When Odette's phone rang, she pulled it from her pocket and checked the screen. 'It's Lasser,' she said as she pressed the loudspeaker.