by Jay Gill
Carlo opened one eye and then the other.
“There you are,” she said. “Welcome back to the land of the living.” She chuckled at her little joke.
Puzzled, he looked around wildly. His foggy mind was trying to figure out what was happening. He tried to move. He tried to speak. He started to rock back and forth, almost toppling over in the process. His eyes widened further and his face grew fierce with anger.
Lyle poured herself another gin and tonic to give Carlo a moment to simmer down and accept his predicament. “I am sure you have lots of questions, and I wish I had more time to go into all the details of why this is happening to you, but the truth is, I don’t. I have a flight booked to England first thing in the morning, and between now and then there is a lot that must be done. So, forgive me if I gloss over the niceties. What I will say is that, despite how this is going to end for you, I’ve had a lovely time. I think it’s important you understand that what’s coming next isn’t about you. It’s about me. Although, in reality, I’m sure that offers little comfort.”
Carlo watched as Lyle pushed a hostess trolley in front of him. On the bottom shelf sat a few marble coasters, some napkins, a roll of cling film, an ice bucket and a pair of silver tongs. It was the top shelf that caused him to strain at his ties. From behind the gag he let out a long, pitiful moan. His pleading eyes were met with a coldness he hadn’t seen in her before. Fingers that had once caressed him now danced over a range of glistening surgical tools.
With a look that suggested the choice was of vital importance, Lyle said, “Perfect. This will do.”
She held up a surgical scalpel. Carlo pressed himself back in the chair. Lyle started to smile as she showed it to him.
“This? This is just my little joke. You’re so jittery. I’m not going to use this on you, Carlo.”
With a flourish, she lifted a napkin off a lime and said, “This is for the lime. A gin and tonic just isn’t the same without lime, wouldn’t you agree?”
Carlo attempted a smile. Perhaps, this was all just a sick prank. Maybe he would be okay after all.
“Carlo, look at me.” Lyle snapped her fingers. “None of these are for you. I don’t have time for blood and body parts scattered here and there. Do you understand?”
Carlo nodded.
“All that would mean a lot of cleaning up. I’ve told you, I’m on a tight schedule. For that reason, I intend something far less messy for me, and you’ll be pleased to know it means next to no discomfort for you.” Lyle reached into the ice bucket and took out an ice pick.
Carlo started to scream.
Lyle stepped close and, after a brief hesitation – she was undecided as to which eye to stab – she changed her mind entirely and plunged the ice pick through Carlo’s temple and deep into his brain. She quickly wrapped his head in kitchen cling film, ensuring his nose and mouth were covered.
“There; we’re done.”
Lyle kissed Carlo’s broad shoulders and ran her fingers over his tanned, muscular, still-warm body one last time. It would have been nice to keep him a little longer, she thought.
After a long, comforting shower, she finished packing and checked the flight times. Later, she would drive to the lake and take a short boat trip. Carlo would then join the others at the bottom of the lake.
Chapter Two
“You’re twisting my words. I didn’t mean that. That’s not what I said.” David Howes was feeling pushed into a corner. From the moment Emma Cotton had stormed through the door, he knew he’d picked the wrong day for this job. He had seen “bad mood” written all over her face.
It was too late to back out, so he pressed on and blurted out his story, which was, broadly speaking, the truth. Naturally, he couldn’t tell her everything. If he told her what was really going on it, would immediately escalate this whole shit storm from a category 2 to a category 5. He knew she’d find out the truth eventually. He just hoped he’d be long gone by the time the cat was out of the bag.
Dave thought he understood how this would play out. He’d gone over and over it in his mind. Rebecca had even helped him rehearse what he was going to say, but somehow Emma still had him going around in circles. Emma had him doubting what he’d said and what he’d meant by what he said.
He was ready to leave, but she wasn’t about to let him just walk out the door. Not yet. His problem was, the longer he stayed, the deeper the hole he dug for himself. He was terrible at lying. Feeling nervous caused him to ramble.
He could picture the storm forming in her head. The storm she’d soon unleash on him if he stuck around. Menacing grey clouds full of buzzing electricity waiting to release deadly verbal lightning bolts. He tried staring at her breasts to calm his nerves. She was still hot. That was never the problem. The problem was she was hardly ever home anymore, and when she was, she was either sleeping or a real super bitch. He stopped staring. She’d seen him looking and not listening. He cleared his throat and pretended he had a tickly cough. She looked like she was ready to punch his lights out. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. Could she?
“Let me get this straight. Look at me. After being together for over five years, engaged for almost two, you wait for me to announce the date of our wedding before deciding this isn’t what you want. You wait until I’ve told all my friends and all my family and every bloody person at work before making your grand announcement. And where do you choose to tell me about this change of heart? You make me trek to a shitty little pub in the arse end of nowhere.”
“I’m sorry,” said Dave in a hushed voice. He hoped Emma might lower her voice. He could see people looking.
“How does this make me look? I’ve sent out the fucking invitations. Do you understand that? You even bought the sodding stamps. To top it all off, this isn’t just cold feet. Oh, no – poor little Dave is feeling ‘trapped.’ He wants to spend time apart. I believe you said, ‘It would be good for us both.’
“And on top of that, you want to move out. You suddenly have the urge to go ‘travelling.’ Yet, the furthest I’ve ever seen you travel is to the fucking freezer to get a fucking pizza. Finally, and imagine for one second I’m not a complete idiot – not that I’d need to be; any fool could see through your bullshit – you want me to believe that you’re not seeing someone else. Is that right? Let me know if I missed anything.”
“I don’t want to argue,” said Dave weakly.
“Argue? You’re so pathetic. We haven’t even started.” Emma glared at him.
“Let’s take some time. Space will be good for both of us. Give me an hour, and I’ll get some of my stuff from the house. I’ll call you in a day or so.”
“You don’t want to talk about it now? Why is that? Are you just going to leave? No proper explanation?” She stared at him. “Of course you don’t want to talk about it. You’ve already planned this out. That’s why you arranged to meet here in public. You think I won’t make a scene. And if I do, you don’t know anyone. You must have mistaken me for the world’s biggest idiot.”
“I’ve tried to talk to you. More than once. You won’t listen,” said Dave.
“When? When did you last try to have a proper conversation? You’re so full of shit, David.” Emma reached for her purse and said, “I need another drink.”
He got to his feet. “I’ll get it for you.”
“No, you won’t. You sit right there. We haven’t finished.”
Dave watched as Emma walked to the bar. He flicked through messages on his phone before sending Rebecca a text.
Chapter Three
Emma stood at the bar and gestured to the barman. She put their empty glasses down in front of her. “One pint of phlegm and spit for him and one large house white wine for me.”
The barman smiled.
Beside her, she could feel the appraising eyes of the man on the bar stool beside her. His dirty white t-shirt had a rip down the side, and his shoes and trousers and fingernails suggested he’d been painting; he was possibly a painter and decorator by
trade. His glazed eyes told her he needed to go home and sleep off one drink too many. He looked around Emma to his friend, who was perched on a bar stool the other side of her. The friend looked older and was also dressed in working clothes. In addition, the friend had fine speckles of paint on his face and arms, suggesting he had recently been using a paint roller.
The first man spoke to his friend, loud enough for Emma to hear. “Lovers’ spat? What do you reckon, Scotty?”
“Looks that way, Johnster.” Scotty twisted on his barstool and leaned back. He looked over at Dave, who was spinning his mobile phone on the table. “Look at that poor sod. He looks like he’s hoping the ground will open and swallow him up. He’s got his hands full with this one.” He looked Emma up and down.
She said nothing. She looked over at the barman, who was on his way back with her drinks but had stopped to chat.
“If he’s not making you happy, love, perhaps I could give it a try,” said Johnster, a wide grin on his face. Pint in hand, he slid off his stool and leaned against the bar. He pressed his leg against hers. Scotty sipped his pint and looked on with amusement.
“No. I’m not interested,” said Emma. She handed the barman the money, thanked him and picked up her drinks.
“I guess you’re not her type,” said Scotty. “She sounds a bit posh for you.”
Johnster put down his pint and stepped in front of her. “So what is your type? The wee man at the table obviously isn’t. Perhaps it’s time you tried a real man. A big man, if you know what I mean. They don’t call me Johnster for nothin’.” He stuck out his arms and wriggled his hips. “It’s because of this monster between my legs.”
“And there was me thinking you were nothing more than good looks and charm,” said Emma with more than a little fire.
Scotty laughed and nearly spilt his pint. Johnster continued, oblivious. “Come on, gorgeous. Wouldn’t you like a bit of rough? I hear you posh types like that.” Johnster looked past her to Scotty for backup. “I bet she’d like it. Deep down they want a bit of rough. Especially these good girls. And she definitely looks like a good girl.”
Emma looked Johnster in the eye, “No. Go home. Or finish your drink. Just leave me alone. I’ve had a shitty day, and you’re making it worse. I just want to get my drinks and go back to my friend. I’ve asked you nicely, and I won’t ask nicely again.”
She held up her drinks and tried to push past Johnster. He moved in front of her and placed his hands on her hips, then started to slow dance.
“Johnster’s just being friendly. He wants to know if he’s your type, darlin’, that’s all. We both do, for that matter,” said Scotty.
“What’s my type? It might be easier if I tell you what my type isn’t. Your wedding rings tell me that, surprisingly, you’re both married. Lucky ladies. Sorry, boys. Married men are a no-no for me. I’m also not keen on men who drink themselves stupid after work or have bad breath, bad manners, body odour and the obsession of a squirrel.”
Scotty and Johnster looked confused, so she added, “Squirrels? They’re obsessed with just one thing – burying their nuts.”
She pushed past and left the two men laughing as though she’d just paid them some kind of compliment. Dave had moved outside to the pub’s garden. His mobile phone was pressed to his ear. He was deep in conversation. She had little doubt who he was talking to; she had ideas about who the woman was. Emma’s fury reached a whole new level. It was time to get the truth out of Dave. As much as she didn’t want to hear it, she knew she had to.
She slammed the drinks down on the table. As she did this, she felt a hand on her backside. She turned to see Johnster with a ridiculous grin on his face.
“Wow, you’re persistent, aren’t you? And clearly more stupid than I thought,” said Emma. “Does the local circus know one of their clowns has escaped? You did hear me say no, didn’t you?”
Johnster smiled, “I did, but I thought— ”
Emma stepped close and swiftly raised her knee to connect with Johnster’s balls. As he doubled over in agony, she raised her elbow so it connected with his nose. Blood gushed down his face. Stepping behind him, she lifted her foot and launched him forward. The top of his head caught the edge of the table, where he crashed to the floor. The two drinks she had just placed on the table toppled and spilt over his neck and shoulders.
Scotty appeared beside Emma and looked down at his friend. “Hey, what the hell’s the matter with you?”
He reached out to grab her, but she took his hand and with one smooth movement twisted his arm up and behind his back. The surprised Scotty yelped and groaned.
Emma whispered in Scotty’s ear, “Are you going to behave?”
Scotty nodded. “Yes, yes! You’re hurting me.”
She released the pressure on Scotty’s arm and said, “Is that my phone ringing? Can either of you morons hear a mobile phone?” She let go of Scotty’s arm and, keeping an eye on the two men, reached into her back pocket and pulled out her mobile phone. She swiped a finger across the phone to take the call and said, “Detective Inspector Emma Cotton speaking.”
Scotty and Johnster looked at each other in dismay. “Shit,” muttered Scotty as he massaged his shoulder.
Emma heard the voice of her boss, Detective Superintendent Calvin Etheridge. She listened and then said, “Yes, sir, I understand. I’ll be there. First thing in the morning.”
She turned off her phone, coolly slid it back into her pocket then turned back to Johnster and Scotty.
“You know I can’t just let your Neanderthal-like behaviour pass, don’t you? While we wait for the landlord to call for a police officer to take statements, which one of you two is going to apologise first? You also owe me two new drinks.”
Chapter Four
Kelly Lyle pulled her jacket close. It would take a day or two to readjust to the British climate. The greyness made her shudder. She stood at the window and watched the tide returning along Sandbanks Beach. In contrast to Italy, the sea here was slate grey. It would eventually turn a crystal blue, but for two days there had been unseasonably lousy weather with rain and high winds. Out at sea there had been storms, and debris was scattered along the beach. A spot of rain hit the window. The forecast for the next few days looked grim, and further storms were expected along the south coast.
The Sandbanks peninsula had the largest concentration of expensive properties outside London and, although she was trying to hide it, the property agent’s voice revealed her excitement.
“You must have a guardian angel. You couldn’t have timed it better; this property only became available this morning.”
Lyle thumbed the business card to remind herself of the agent’s name. She had picked up the false sense of authority in the woman’s voice and found it endearing.
When she didn’t respond, the agent added, “It’s dramatic, isn’t it? Such an amazing position. Personally, I love watching the storms. My favourite time is at night. Lightning strikes over the ocean at night look so dramatic. And the thunder crashing all around, so loudly it rocks your whole body. Nights like those can make me feel so insignificant. Vulnerable.”
Lyle smiled and turned to the young woman. “You’re a romantic, Sienna.”
Sienna blushed. “No one has said that about me before.” Lyle tucked a strand of Sienna’s short hair behind her ear. She stroked her cheek tenderly and gazed into her eyes. “You’re also incredibly beautiful. What I wouldn’t give to have your youth.”
Sienna was unsure how to respond. She hadn’t been hit on by a woman before. Is that what was happening here? She wasn’t sure where to look. Her heart was beating hard in her chest. Her mouth felt dry. Was it wrong that she was enjoying the attention?
Picking up the file containing the property details, Sienna said, “Do you like it? The house, I mean?”
“I do. It’s perfect. I’ll pay the asking price, in cash.”
“Really? That’s wonderful news.” Sienna passed her a business card. “If we go ba
ck to the office I can…”
“Actually, I’d like to stipulate one condition,” added Lyle. “You must have dinner with me tonight. I have a reservation at Rick Stein’s restaurant. You can tell me more about the area I’ll be living in, and I’d like the opportunity to find out more about you, Miss Sienna Lasota.”
Without giving herself time to make excuses, Sienna said, “Yes, I’d like that.”
Lyle held Sienna’s small chin and gave her a tender kiss. “I’ll see you at eight. Unfortunately, I’ve got to go. I’m running late for another appointment. I’ll be moving in here immediately, no matter the cost. Bring whatever paperwork needs signing with you tonight.” Lyle wrote a telephone number on the business card. “This is the number of my accountant. He’ll handle the financial arrangements. I need you to make sure it happens this week. Can you do that for me?”
“Yes, of course.”
“I know you will. I can see there is more to you than meets the eye. Underneath that beautiful exterior is a strong and determined young woman. I see that you just need to believe it.” Lyle opened her purse and took out an envelope, which she handed to Sienna. “It’s close to a thousand pounds. Buy yourself something stunning for tonight. Expensive clothes and shoes will give you confidence. I’ll see you tonight.”
Chapter Five
Lyle pulled the car onto the hard shoulder and turned on the hazard lights. She climbed out and looked over the bridge to the Fleetsbridge roundabout below.
It was a perfect spot. The evening rush hour traffic was building, and as the cars sat nose to tail, waiting for the traffic lights to change, the audience below would get front row seats.
Behind her, cars flew past, paying little attention to the parked vehicle. Why should they? She’d spent good money to have the car look like a paramedic’s rapid-response vehicle.
