The Hollow Woman

by Philip Saunders

  Dominic said quietly, ‘The betrayal. It still burns, even now.’ Both his hands were on each side Emily’s head.

  ‘She hurt you, so you hurt her,’ I continued.

  ‘I made sure she was punished for her misbehaviour.’ The pressure he was applying was concerting Emily’s face.

  I could sense that he wanted to talk, so I pressed on, encouraging the confession, ‘What did you do?’

  He stated, calmly, ‘I forced her to watch, as I destroyed him right in front her eyes, and there was nothing she could do about it.’ Dominic smiled. ‘I can still hear the sound his skull made when I cracked it open.’

  I tentatively touched the back of my head, and felt a wet stickiness there. Drawing my hand back, I saw what I expected to see, the palm was covered in blood.

  ‘How could you...’ Rachel whispered, tears were forming in her eyes.

  Dominic shrugged again and said dismissively, ‘As I see it, he got what was coming to him.’

  ‘You didn’t even know him. You didn’t even know him.’

  ‘You know, she begged me to stop, pleading with me, on her knees, seeing the look of fear in her eyes, as I beat him senseless and kicked him down, like the dog he was…’

  Rachel interrupted, ‘Bastard!’ She grabbed her clutch from the armchair, opened it, took out the gun and aimed it at Dominic.

  I had to prevent this bad situation from getting worse. Summoning the strength from somewhere within, I used the sofa, as support, to get back on my feet. Standing up, I was overcome with nausea and dizziness, swaying slightly, so I reached out to grab the fireplace mantle to steady myself.

  ‘You’ll pay for what you’ve done.’ Rachel carried on with her vendetta.

  Dominic released his hold on Emily and moved from out behind the sofa, appearing unfazed at gunpoint. ‘You really shouldn’t be playing with toys like that,’ He mocked. ‘We wouldn’t want it to go off, now would we?’ He began walking towards her, confidently calling her bluff, smiling that dazzling smile.

  ‘Get back! I’m not afraid to use this!’

  ‘What are you going to do, huh? Kill me? You don’t have it in you. You are nothing but a feeble woman. Women are built inferior to men, it is the natural order, after all’ Dominic was almost goading her to shoot him.

  ‘I’m warning you, Dominic!’ Rachel shouted. ‘Stay where you are or I will shoot!’

  Dominic remained undeterred by Rachel’s threats, drawing closer and continuing to torment her further by recounting the night of Grahame’s execution, ‘Do you know what he did, your precious Grahame, huh? When I had him down on his knees, pleading with me to spare his life? Huh? You don’t wanna know? I’ll tell you. He pissed himself!’ Dominic tossed back his head and roared with laughter. ‘The fucking coward pissed himself!’

  ‘Stop it!’ Her eyes were tearing up, Dominic was getting to her.

  ‘Rachel, don’t listen to him, gimme the gun,’ I implored, hand outreached.

  ‘And when, after all of his pathetic pleading, he believed that I was going to let him live, he actually thanked me, the fucking dog, and then, as he was about to move, I struck him so hard, hard enough to hear his skull crack. And I kept on striking him, again and again and again.’ Dominic was smiling as he spoke.

  ‘You’re sick. You are a very sick man, Dominic. You need help. And you are going to go away for a very long, long time.’ Rachel’s voice was choked with emotion.

  The room had finally stopped spinning and I realised that the chauffeur was no longer at the door but prowling up behind Rachel.

  ‘Rachel, behind you!’ I warned her but it was too late.

  ‘Don’t move,’ The chauffeur warned, his knife at her throat.

  ‘Thank you, Tian.’ With Rachel apprehended, Dominic came close enough to unarm her. He held the gun up, looking at it, the size of it seemed to amuse him. He addressed Tian, ‘Put the knife away.’

  Tian slid the knife away but remained holding it at his side.

  ‘Dominic...’ Rachel started but he didn’t allow her the curtesy of finishing, smacked her clean around the face with the back of his hand. She cried out in pain, the impact sent her back down on the seat she had been sitting in.

  Tian pointed the knife at Rachel to keep her from moving. ‘What do you want me to do?’

  ‘Let’s test this out.’ Dominic aimed the gun at her.

  Both distracted with restraining and inflicting pain on Rachel. I seized upon the opportunity, grabbing the poker from the fireplace and swung at Dominic.

  I hit his back as hard as I could and the impact made him buckle at the knees.

  BANG!

  The gun went off. Tian fell to the floor, taking cover.

  I took the opportunity to further kick Dominic in the back, sending him to floor, and then stamped on his wrist, making him release the gun but not before he sent off another shot.

  BANG!

  Dominic, on the floor, turned over on his side, and used his other hand, he grabbed my ankle, pulled it out from under me. I dropped the poker as I fell.

  Tian screamed out and I looked over, catching sight of Rachel stabbing her heel in the hand that held the knife, hard enough to draw blood.

  Before I knew it, Dominic had pounced on me, and we began brawling on the floor.

  The mask of the sophisticated gentleman had fallen off, and he had transformed into something else entirely, his true self, more feral, with his eyes enlarged, teeth showing, clenched, and bubbles of saliva forming at the corners of his mouth. I could sense he loved every minute of this fight.

  I heard Rachel struggling with Tian but couldn’t tell what was happening.

  Dominic was strong, stronger than me, especially in my condition, and I knew, when he had me by my jacket’s lapel with one hand and was repeatedly punching my face with the other, that I wasn’t going to win this one. He had overpowered me, beaten me into submission, sooner than I thought, leaving me, and my ego, battered and bruised. Rendered temporarily incapacitated, all I could do was helplessly watch, as he slowly stood up and calmly retrieved the gun. Dominic, the victor, made sure to look me in the eyes as he targeted my head.

  With his finger curled around the trigger, ready to squeeze, he asked me, ‘Any last words?’

  I tightly closed my eyes, bracing myself to meet my maker, not that I was religious, maybe in that moment I was, albeit briefly, but, to my surprise, the shot never came. All I heard was the sound of a sickening thud. When I opened my eyes, I saw Emily, standing where Dominic had been, the poker in her hand, and Dominic was on the floor, not moving. The gun was still in his hand. I wasted no time, clambering for it and pointing it at the chauffeur, who tried to run for it.

  ‘Freeze!’ I shot a warning shot in the ceiling that made him stop. ‘Put your hands up.’ Shaking, he slowly put his hands up in the air.

  Rachel came to stand beside me.

  ‘I’ve killed him,’ Emily stated in a matter-of-fact way.

  She was audibly and visibly breathing very heavily, probably from all of the adrenalin that must be pumping through her veins, but she just stood there, frozen to the spot, completely unable to move, expressionless, looking down at Dominic.

  ‘I’ve killed him.’ She repeated, quietly, possibly in disbelief or delight, I couldn’t tell, maybe a bit of both.

  ‘Is-Is he dead?’ Rachel asked me, looking over my shoulder, down at the still body lying on the floor.

  ‘Hold this for me.’ I gave Rachel the gun. ‘Keep him there.’

  ‘Gladly.’ She aimed it at the chauffeur.

  I crouched down next to Dominic. It looked like Emily had struck him on side of his head. I could not tell the extent of the injury but there was a lot of blood. I was secretly impressed and exceedingly grateful for the petite blonde, who had finally stood up to her tormenter. I slid two fingers inside Dominic’s starched shirt collar, pressed my fingers against his neck, and said to Rachel, ‘It’s faint but he’s still got a pulse.’ I looked up at Emily, who
dropped the poker.

  I heard the door slowly opened and Withers appeared in the doorway holding a large ring of keys. ‘I-I heard gunshots? Lady Emily?’ The old man looked at each of us in turn, trying to fathom what had gone down.

  I stood up and instructed Withers, ‘There’s been an accident. Call an ambulance.’

  Chapter 22

  It was two days after the incident in the McIntyre house and I was sitting in my basement office, with my feet up on the desk, smoking a cigarette.

  My feet were near a vase, in which I had placed a dozen red roses. The flowers looked almost black in the dim, golden glow of my desk lamp.

  It was getting late in the evening and there was something nagging me, something I couldn’t put my finger on, which was proving irksome enough to keep me from slumber.

  I had fully cooperated with the ensuing police investigation, coming face-to-face again with the seething Cosgrove, and gave a detailed statement, concerning my involvement in the case of Grahame Kingsley’s murder. The detective’s hostility towards me gradually began to subside after I’d served him up the culprit on a silver platter. Luckily, for me, Hooper had not got involved, much to my surprise, given its high-profile nature, as far as I knew anyway. Every time I switched on the TV or scrolled the news on my mobile, I expected to see his handsome, clean-shaven, smug mug grinning back at me, but instead it was Brexit, the political nightmare, which continued to dominate the news cycle - spreading misery, uncertainty and frustration nationwide.

  As far as Cosgrove was concerned, with three eye-witness accounts to Dominic’s confession and the attempted murder of both Rachel and myself, they had their man dead to rights. However, being a cynical type, I was less convinced of securing a definite guilty verdict, believing a cunning barrister, one that Dominic would undoubtedly be able to afford, could potentially get him off - probably on some technicality - they’d need more concrete evidence to ensure a conviction.

  Three of the main players in this tragic affair I was unable to interview.

  Dominic was currently lying comatose, barely surviving on life support, in an undisclosed hospital somewhere in the city, probably under 24/7 police guard.

  Tian had been arrested and couldn’t afford to post bail, and besides, even if I could get access to him, from what Cosgrove had told me, the chauffeur wasn’t cooperating with the authorities, refusing to speak, his loyalty to his employer seemed to be steadfast.

  And the last I’d heard about Emily, after she’d spoken to the police, she had been committed to a mental institution, which was probably the best place for her, teetering on the verge of a complete mental breakdown.

  Therefore, I would have to rely on my intelligence, which wasn’t always that reliable, to put my mind at rest and close this case to my satisfaction.

  I extinguished my cigarette, swung my feet off the desk, took out Rachel Sterling’s file from the filing cabinet, grabbed a pen and my notebook from the drawer and opened up my laptop. I went over the information I had pertaining to the case, examining every insignificant detail I’d recorded, and at the end of doing so I was left stumped. Out of sheer frustration, I felt like picking up my laptop and hurling it at the wall, but thankfully I resisted the urge - I couldn’t afford a new one. Instead, I gave a sigh, stretched out my knuckles till they cracked and then, leaning back in my desk chair, placed both hands behind my head.

  What is bothering me so much? There’s nothing left to resolve, is there? The bastard proudly confessed. The case is closed. I thought to myself. What is bothering you? Why are you torturing yourself over nothing? Put it away, just forget about it, and move on.

  Standing up, attempting to convince myself of having closure, with the case file in my hands and was about to open the filing cabinet to file it permanently away, when my work mobile started to ring.

  ‘Hello...’ The female voice was so strained that it was barely recognisable.

  I looked at the screen to check the caller ID. ‘Rachel? Is that you?’

  ‘I’m sorry, I know it’s late. I would’ve called you earlier but I’ve been busy making the arrangements for the funeral…’

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘The service will be taking place on Friday at midday, down in Combe Martin,’ Rachel said. ‘Grahame’s family solicitors were able to track down and contact his Aunt. She flew over today, so she’s going to take over...’ I went to speak but she beat me to the punch. ‘Anyway, I didn’t want you to think that I’ve forgotten that I owe you for your services. That’s why I’m calling. I transferred the money to your account. I trust that you’ll find the sum more than satisfactory.’

  ‘I’m sure I will.’

  Her strained, quiet voice suddenly grew tough. ‘The money comes with conditions.’

  ‘Money usually does.’

  ‘I don’t want anybody to know that I hired you...I can trust on your discretion?’

  ‘Of course.’ Discretion came with the territory in my profession, it went without saying, so it was jarring to me that Rachel should specifically request it.

  ‘That was all I wanted to say.’ There was an awkward silence followed. ‘I don’t expect we will have any reason to meet again. Goodbye.’ And with that she hung up the phone.

  ‘Goodbye,’ I said aloud, to no one.

  I sat back down in my chair, dropped the case file on the desk, and opened my banking app, finding my balance had significantly improved.

  I poured myself a whisky, re-opened the case file and began drinking. After downing the last drop of my second glass, I had mulled over everything, and gradually the fog in my mind had lifted. I grabbed my coat and left the office.

  Walking along the beautiful, quiet, residential streets of Holland Park, I arrived at the McIntyre residence, where I found the electronic gate open. I knocked on the front door, but there was no answer, so I took the stairs down to the servants’ quarters.

  I pressed the bell, holding my finger down on it so that it rang continually until I saw a light switched on inside, and the elderly butler hobbling towards the door wearing blue and white striped pyjamas.

  ‘You!’ Withers opened the door and seeing me there, recognising me instantly. There was nothing wrong with the old guy’s eyesight.

  ‘Yes, me.’

  ‘What do you want?’ He snapped at me irritably. ‘Haven’t you caused enough trouble for this household?’

  ‘I wanted to ask you a few questions,’ I stated.

  ‘At this time of night!’ It was 10:30pm. ‘Be gone!’ He waved his hand at me, as if shooing away a nuisance bumble bee buzzing around a picnic.

  Withers was closing the door on me, so I said quickly, ‘It’s to do with Emily McIntyre.’ As soon as I mentioned her name, the old man stopped and looked at me, his ice blue eyes searching mine, maybe deciding whether or not to slam the door.

  He decided to open the door a little and asked, ‘What do you know about my Lady?’

  ‘I know the truth about what happened to her.’

  Withers gave a heavy sigh and then moved aside, letting me in.

  The butler lived in a large studio room, decorated in pale blues and whites, with minimal furnishings.

  He went about making himself a cocoa - he didn’t offer me one - and I sat down at the table, watching him move slowly about the small kitchenette.

  ‘Do you remember, that night, the night I was here, when you answered the door to Rachel Sterling, what you said?’ The old man slowly shook his head. ‘I do.’ I recited the simple interaction between the two.

  He held the warm cup of cocoa in his hands and looked at me with a bewildered expression. ‘Why…yes, I think, I think I did say that…but I don’t see what so important about that, that you had to wake me up at this unholy hour?’ Withers came and sat down opposite me. ‘And what does that have to do with Lady Emily?’

  ‘Has Rachel Sterling been to this house, before that night?’ I asked.

  ‘Why, yes.’

  ‘When was tha
t?’

  He tilted his head slightly. ‘Hmm…Let me see...It was definitely recent...’ The old man got up and picked up a book on the counter. He flipped through the pages. ‘Oh yes, here it is, Saturday 17th August, in the evening. She came on her own.’

  ‘Why did she come that night?’

  The tired butler shrugged and said, ‘She asked for a meeting with my Master. He told me that he wasn’t expecting anyone and wouldn’t agree to see anybody, but she was so insistent that my Master eventually acquiesced.’

  ‘Do you know what they discussed?’

  Withers wobbled his sagging neck flesh with indignation. ‘I’m a butler! I do not eavesdrop at doors!’ I took out my wallet and slid a £50 note across the table to him. Withers looked at the note, then slid it straight back and repeated with emphasis, ‘I do not eavesdrop. Now would you tell me what this has to do with my Lady?’

  ‘If your Master dies in that hospital bed you’ll need all the money you can get your hands on, Grandpa.’ I slid the note back into play. ‘Don’t be a fool. Take the money and tell me what they discussed.’

  ‘I don’t expect somebody of your generation to understand what loyalty truly means but it means to be…’

  Anticipating that I was on the verge of a long lecture, I cut Withers off before he got started, ‘I can tell you that your loyalty is wholly misplaced in Dominic McIntyre. Whatever you think you owe him, believe me, you owe him nothing.’

  The butler wobbled his neck flesh again, this time with more vigour, and proclaimed defiantly in Dominic’s defence, ‘I’ve been a butler to this family for over twenty years. He is a great gentleman, my Master, the greatest gentleman I have had the honour to…’

  Whilst I let him ramble on about his Master’s “greatness”, I realised that buying him off was not going to work so I took a different approach.

  When the butler had finished, I asked him, ‘Do you want to know the truth about what happened to your Lady and the reason for her mysterious disappearance, huh? Surely you must have wondered about it and the circumstances surrounding her return. Tell me, what line did Dominic feed you?’