Sixth Victim

by Kate Mitchell

  And yet, when she thought about this amazing and romantic affair, there was something poetic about her sordid fling. To lose her virginity to someone handsome gave balm to her bedeviled pride. And she did love him? She loved him with the passionate wildness of her heart. And if he were honest, Thomas truly loved her. Typical wasn’t it that it was Peter who claimed he had fallen in love with her. A man who had no understanding of love at all. Ironic. Yet, he proved to be the one most loyal. But it wasn’t him she wanted, she wanted Thomas, every time.

  The day came of her hospital discharge. It should have been a day to look forward to, but it was not. To Cecelia’s surprise, she was fearful. A wall of darkness stood before her, insurmountable in its unknown; waiting and watching and trying to calculate what her next move would be. The world outside had become unpredictable.

  Detective James Patts had also made Cecelia a visit. He was going to be discharged to his wife soon, and he was looking forward to it. It was to him that Cecelia told who she was going to stay with. At first, he was pleased for her. It was good to get out of a place filled only for illness. But then he saw the frown on Cecelia’s face, and with his interpretation of her reluctance suggested that she come and stay with them.

  ‘Come and stay with my wife and me. The children have moved out. You can have one of their rooms. My wife will get one ready for you.’

  She nearly said yes, nearly said she would have loved to stay with these two. But Mrs. Patts would have enough to do with looking after her husband.

  ‘No,’ she smiled sickly. ‘Mary Ann is looking forward to me staying with her. It’s something she’s wanted forever, me living with her.’ She stopped in anger. ‘It seems to have worked out for her.’

  ‘I am sure,’ Patts said not quite understanding the complexities of female friendship. ‘That she will look after you and pamper you; there’s no harm in that.’

  ‘Yes, you’re right,’ said Cecelia now feeling mean, Mary Ann’s offer came from goodwill. ‘It’s just at times she can be suffocating…’

  ‘I understand,’ smiled James. ‘A person can go over the top with their good intentions, but you said she has a man in her life?’

  Cecelia nodded.

  ‘Then you’ll find she will be more anxious to spend her time with this new man. I expect she wants to do good by you after all, as I understand it, you’ve been kind to her.’

  ‘Yes,’ Cecelia smiled, but that smile was lost on a sad face.

  ‘I’m being discharged later this afternoon,’ James Patts told Cecelia sitting in his wheelchair while she got her few things together. Mrs. Patts had heard a little of Cecelia’s story from her husband and understanding the nakedness of hospital had kindly bought her a few bits of feminine needs and a nice overnight stay bag.

  ‘Yes, it’s nice to go home,’ smiled Cecelia hoping the growing stress inside would die. What she would have liked was to go straight to her own house, lock her door, and have that cry she needed.

  You will be all right, James Patts wanted to tell Cecelia, but then the door opened and in walked Mary Ann. She was one hell of an attractive woman and so tall. She was in love and this made a difference. Automatically, he looked down at her rather large feet and saw she was wearing four-inch high heels. The extra height made her look over six feet, while Cecelia in her stocking feet was dwarfed. Mary Ann’s height alone was daunting.

  ‘Don’t tell me,’ Mary Ann said in an unfamiliar voice to Cecelia’s ears. ‘You are Detective Patts. You came to my house after I reported I had been raped.’ There wasn’t supposed to be any mention of the Alandra Slasher anymore around Cecelia while her mind was unsettled.

  Where had Mary Ann’s voice come from? Cecelia frowned. Mary Ann sounded stronger, surer of herself, and with an English accent. But, of course, she was an actress, and an English accent was attractive.

  ‘I am pleased Cecelia has someone she can call her friend,’ smiled James Patts. It was strange, both of them were on their best manners, he felt uncomfortable. Scratching the back of his head he eyeballed her, must be those shoes; the woman was so unbelievably tall.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Mary Ann. ‘I have always been Cecelia’s friend. I care about her very much. Give me your bag Cecelia, let me carry it for you.’

  What was this? Why was she talking like this to her, and treating her like she was a deficient idiot? Or an adult about their child. Very patronizing. And yet nothing was said by Cecelia who drifted over the supposed insult intoxicated by Xanax.

  ‘I’ll see you around,’ said James Patts watching Cecelia’s now rather slight frame leave the room. Catching Cecelia’s eyes, he had to agree, he wasn’t comfortable with the tall woman taking over.

  ‘I see you two are good friends,’ smiled Mary Ann looking from James Patts to Cecelia. ‘You and your wife must come to dinner one night. You would like that, wouldn’t you, Cecelia?’

  Cecelia didn’t know anymore, but more than anything else, she had stopped caring.

  ‘And everyone will be able to meet my beau. He’s such a nice man, everyone I’m sure will like him. We must arrange a date, of course when you are well.’ she said looking from one to the other. ‘We must get on now. You’re tired, aren't you, Cecelia? I’ve got to get you home. Oh, she definitely will be spoilt, Mr. Patts, although I should call you Detective Patts,’ she smiled a horizontal smile.

  ‘Might not be for long,’ he grimaced. ‘I believe retirement might be on its way. Which will please the wife? Being a policeman is not an easy occupation.’

  ‘No, I shouldn’t imagine it is.’ A disinterested smile. ‘We are to use that wheelchair to take you out of the hospital, Cecelia.’ She pointed to the one which had been brought to the room earlier. ‘Think of this as an adventure.’

  The collapsed wheelchair was targeted by Mary Ann, who quickly shook it into shape and waited for Cecelia to climb in.

  ‘Goodbye,’ she waved airily to James Patts while pushing Cecelia out through the door.

  Hospitals are all the same around the world, and it doesn’t matter if they’re private or charity. Impersonal. Even moguls lose their sovereign prestige once they lay horizontal in clothes designed for easy access. An untroubled ride to vulnerability, the steady footsteps carried through pushing the wheelchair around corners and into the elevator, impersonal. As always when Mary Ann passed nurses and doctors her confidence rose, she was the adult in charge of the invalid. While Cecelia felt like a child in its first pushchair.

  ‘I am going to leave you here,’ said Mary Ann, parking the wheelchair in the spacious reception. Just yards away beyond the glass, the sun shone on a brand-new day. ‘William is on his way to collect you.’

  Behind Cecelia, Mary Ann applied the brakes.

  ‘I forgot to tell you that coming to the hospital, I am killing two birds with one stone. I’m going for my cancer checkup. Which I didn’t tell you about, I don’t want you to feel sorry for me. I had breast cancer last year. Now I’m due for a preliminary scan which is nothing to worry about I’m sure. Keep your fingers crossed Cecelia and say a little prayer if you can afford one. I would be thankful.’

  You’ve had breast cancer, the words leaked out into the silence as Cecelia watched Mary Ann walk away. So, that was the reason for the high heels and smart clothes. Mary Ann was putting on a brave face and here she was thinking only of herself.

  But she wished that Mary Ann had stayed to introduce her to William. A man she had never met who was now going to be in charge of her. Only from a distance and very briefly had she seen Mary Ann’s boyfriend and it wasn’t a good reception, in fact, he was highly nervous which didn’t inspire any confidence. But if Mary Ann said he would come and collect her, then she was certain William would be there. If not, she would be waiting until Mary Ann had finished with her appointment.

  Would he know who she was? How Cecelia wished she could turn back time and return home to Phoebe instead of going to Mary Ann’s house. But the Slasher had already killed Phoebe. He had enter
ed the flower shop not long after Cecelia left, she must have missed this monster by minutes. If she had stayed for ten minutes, Phoebe might still be alive, and he would have taken someone else instead. But he didn’t. So many ifs and regrets. What had Phoebe done to incite his passion?

  Ten minutes passed. It was awkward sitting here, already two people had come across to find out if she was all right. She smiled; she was okay and waiting for a friend. But she knew these people were also keeping a friendly eye on her. Nice people, but this was embarrassing.

  The front entrance split as sliding doors ran to open, and a man in a navy overcoat on such a warm afternoon entered. He looked from side to side before spotting Cecelia and unsmiling he stalked over to her. This must be William. Catching Cecelia’s eye, he then looked quickly away. He was either shy or nervous.

  ‘I’m William,’ he said standing in front of her, frowning. ‘Mary Ann’s friend. I take it you’re Cecelia Clark?’

  What is that instinct which unjustly sums someone up as being unfavorable? When you know you haven’t given them a chance to speak for themselves. It came at once that she did not like him, and yet, there was no reason for her dislike.

  ‘Yes,’ a smile was hard in coming; a smile would be nice.

  And then he grinned and nodded. ‘It’s not easy, is it, being a friend of Mary Ann? You have to do everything she wants. And she’s always right. Haven’t you noticed how strong she is, mentally? She’s a positive person.’

  This was a man who understood the lady he loved.

  ‘Come on, let’s take you home and make a fuss of you. I’m sure you’ll love it.’ Going behind her, the wheelchair jumped before he took off the brakes.

  ‘So, no. I didn’t get my driving license in this country, does it show?’

  He had an accent that Cecelia couldn’t place, but she had heard its likeness before. A mixture of everything with the peculiar sound of English. Like all people whose laugh did not match their size, William giggled nervously like a girl, it was so out of context. But then he stopped, embarrassed, an awkward man who was grateful that someone like Mary Ann had taken him on. Their reflections in the automatic glass doors showed him pushing her chair, one hand on the frame while the other to his mouth was awkward and self-conscious.

  ‘I’ll take the chair back to the hospital.’ He was almost apologetic after lifting her out and placing her carefully into the back of the car. ‘I won’t be a moment.’

  Looking through the car window, Cecelia watched him swaggering away reminding her of a dog, friendly and endearing wanting to please, and knowing that she was watching him. He marched quickly back; the good dog was very obedient.

  Oh well, what next?

  Did she fancy him? No. He was Mary Ann’s, but there was something about him. Nice brown eyes and yet he was nervous as if he weren’t sure about himself which was appealing.

  ‘Shouldn’t we wait for Mary Ann?’ Cecelia leaned forward when he jumped into the car. ‘I’m sure she won’t be too long.’

  ‘Yes, I suggested that to her, it would be sensible,’ he had his back to her, glancing from the driver’s mirror was just a pair of eyes. ‘But Mary Ann’s instruction was to take you home first and make you comfortable before returning for her.’

  ‘Oh, okay.’

  Funny the things you find out about people, the oddly intimate, throw away details, he did everything Mary Ann told him. The Xanax was beginning to wear off.

  She hoped he wouldn’t talk to her during the journey. Her nerves were still raw talking to someone… Just get to bed and forget. It was time to have another one of those tablets. Edgy sharp corners were sharpening chaffing her nerves and making those long strides into screaming. Take a tablet, go to bed, and hopefully sleep.

  They traveled in silence for the rest of the journey while the miles clocked carefully until they arrived.

  ‘I’ll just go and open the door. I won’t be a moment,’ he turned to look at Cecelia with a wisp of a smile, gentle and carefully hidden behind a well-trained mustache.

  She watched him go to the door. He wasn’t her taste in men, but to be honest, he wasn’t bad looking, in fact, he looked rather cute. Dark short wavy hair and dark brown eyes which were almost black. Perhaps his nose was too wide, and he really ought to do something about his thick eyebrows because they moved about with a life of their own. Well-dressed although perhaps not appropriate for this warm weather. Maybe he’s shy. It was not unusual for her to wear a coat in summer so she wouldn’t be noticed.

  With the door opened, he walked back to her. Smart, quick steps. Her side door opened abruptly as he bent down, slid his hand underneath her, and raised her. He moved quickly and deftly.

  ‘I can walk,’ Cecelia rose in his arms. ‘I’m not that helpless.’

  ‘I’m to follow orders, and besides, you don’t weigh much. You are as light as a bird.’ And then he poked his nose into her hair and sniffed.

  What she was feeling was strange and disturbing, his grip was iron cast.

  ‘Can you put me down, please?’

  His fingers curled around her waist as if he were measuring her.

  ‘Not too far now,’ he pushed the door open with his wide shoulders. ‘But first, I’m to get you a drink. What would you like, coffee or tea? Mary Ann drinks tea.’

  ‘Yes, I know. So please put me down.’

  ‘I’ll just switch on the kettle and make you some tea. Mint, Mary Ann suggested mint would be good for you.’

  He had placed her gently on to her feet and stood for some seconds watching her as if she amused him. It made her feel very uncomfortable and if he continued taking these familiarities, she would have no other choice but to ask for refuge with Mr. and Mrs. Patts.

  ‘It’s so good to see you here,’ he murmured under his breath before walking to the kitchen. ‘I’ll take your bag up to your room—and before you say anything else, I’ve been ordered to do this.’

  When the front door went behind him, Cecelia was relieved.

  19

  Someone else’s house always feels strange. This was Mary Ann’s house, and everything about it said Mary Ann’s world. Sitting, Cecelia wondered what she should do. She felt so strange in herself, and this William and his familiarity didn’t help. Shaky and outside of herself. When will everything feel normal?

  She couldn’t drink the mint tea. This wasn’t her; it was Mary Ann. Mary Ann was everywhere, the decoration, perfume, everything was over the top. Throwing away the mint tea, Cecelia drew some water, drank it, and then she felt cold. When will Mary Ann arrive home to give her a Xanax? Her dose was well overdue. In this world opened to feminine hospitality, Cecelia felt stifled, resentful, and out of her comfort zone. She sat waiting.

  Thirty minutes later, the front door opened. Holding the door ajar, Mary Ann called out. ‘I will talk to you tomorrow, William. I’ve got Cecelia to look after. I’ll give you a ring about ten this evening. Thanks for everything. Take care driving home.’

  The bright and tall presence of Mary Ann walked in.

  ‘I take it, William treated you well.’ Mary Ann marched to the kitchen. ‘You should have reminded me about your medication.’ She called out. ‘When I was disrobing for the ex-ray, I realized I hadn’t given you your tablet. You must be dying for it. ‘Here, I’ve got you a glass of water,’ she strode back. ‘Take the tablet, breathe, and relax.’

  The welcoming capsules were swallowed greedily, waiting for it to sink to her stomach and then into her bloodstream, and then she could breathe.

  ‘Would you like something to eat, I shall rephrase that. You must have something to eat. William said when he held you in his arms, there was nothing of you. He was worried about you. By-the-way, what did you think of William?’

  What a question to ask.

  ‘I don’t know him enough to make any comment.’

  ‘Yes, of course you don’t,’ Mary Ann smiled, running her eyes quickly over Cecelia; she chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully. ‘I’ve made yo
u some home-cooked chicken soup with the best and freshest ingredients which won’t tax your stomach too much. I’ll go and warm it for us.’ And then she stopped. ‘It’s so good to have you here, Cecelia.’ Again, another smile.

  Such a transition from the bright disinfectant smell of the hospital into the intimacy of a feminine environment. It was overwhelming in its inconsistency. And with her head everywhere, Cecelia felt very giddy. But the soup was hot and pleasant and smoothed a weakened appetite.

  ‘I want you to consider this as your home,’ Mary Ann ladled her spoon midway to her mouth. ‘Feel free to do whatever you want here.’ She smiled gently. ‘This is your home, Cecelia.’

  The Xanax had worked its way straight to her brain while the world once again took a comforting back step.

  ‘Do you mind if I go to bed now?’

  ‘Not at all, and you needn’t have asked,’ said Mary Ann collecting the bowls. ‘Would you like me to give you a hand to undress?’

  ‘No.’

  Cecelia’s refusal was swift, which caught a laugh from Mary Ann. She nodded, well pleased.

  Wonderful to lie in a proper bed again. The stout hospital disciplinary pillows were replaced by clouds. So glad to be away from the madness and wearying had, at last, brought her sleep. A perfect night of slumber until a knock the following morning.

  ‘I brought you some orange juice and scrambled eggs,’ said Mary Ann, pushing open the door with her foot while carrying a tray. And then she stopped to look at Cecelia. ‘I never expected to have you stay with me. It feels wonderful. And you are to eat your breakfast—no, allow me to spoil you. I’ve never done this for anyone else, and I find it fulfilling. Do you want me to feed you?’