by Franklin, JJ
‘She didn’t suffer at all.’
Tom looked at him uncomprehending. ‘Then how…why?’ Tom broke off and Matt was aware that the truth was now hitting home. However, worse was to come, and Matt steeled himself to carry on.
‘I’m so sorry to say she was murdered, Mr Graham.’
Tom glared at Matt, as if he had personally killed Sandi and moved forward in his seat. Matt didn’t move but was aware that Sam had readied himself for action.
‘We believe she may have been the second victim of a murderer who killed earlier this week at the health spa,’ Matt continued, bracing himself for the anger that sometimes follows such news. It didn’t come immediately, but then Tom sprang to his feet with his fists clenched.
‘My God, you’ve let that bugger run around free. Free to kill again. You did nothing to stop him killing my Sandi…my Sandi.’
Matt had put a hand out to keep Sam seated, aware that this anger would be quick to play itself out, and he was proved right as Tom collapsed back onto his seat with his head in his hands.
Matt knew that there was important information they must gain from Tom, and they couldn’t yet let him have the luxury of descent into despair.
‘Tom, you could help us catch this murderer before he kills again.’ Matt waited a moment for Tom’s head to rise and he was sure Tom was listening before continuing. ‘Anything you can tell us may help, no matter how small. Right now, we need to know what time Sandi called you last night. And it would really help if we could analyse the call.’
Matt waited for what seemed a long time before Tom rose like a very old man to get a jacket from the back of one of the dining room chairs. Fishing in one of the pockets, he brought out his mobile phone but held onto it for a moment, aware that this was his last precious contact with Sandi.
‘I’ll personally guarantee that you will get your mobile back and that the phone call will be intact, Mr Graham,’ Matt promised.
Tom moved forward slowly and placed the phone in Matt’s hands. ‘I usually call Sandi at about eight thirty, but we were on a shout. She called me—left a message.’
‘Thank you.’ Matt handed the phone to Sam who had the evidence bag waiting. ‘We also need to know where you went to lunch yesterday and at what time.’ Since Tom looked somewhat baffled at this request, Matt clarified. ‘In case anyone followed Sandi from there.’
Tom nodded before replying, ‘About twelve. Penny’s Pizza’s two doors down. Sandi was working the one to ten shift. She often did on a Saturday, and we’d both try to rota off for Sunday night, so we could go out—pictures or the like. Sunday is our night.’ Tom stopped, as the awful emptiness of his life without Sandi began to evolve into reality.
Matt was thinking that it might be a good time to stop for the moment, since they had some leads to follow. He nodded to Sam to present the card with their phone numbers to Tom and explain that he was to call them day or night if he thought of anything else that would help. Also that they would want to see him again.
As they stood, the door opened as if by radar, and the smaller man who had been playing pool with Tom came through, followed by the woman in uniform. The woman came to sit at Tom’s side, while the man reached into a cupboard to get a bottle of whisky and a glass. Matt moved away, knowing that Tom would be in safe hands.
It was as they drew away from the fire station that Sam echoed Matt’s thoughts. ‘Phew, that was hard going. Poor bugger didn’t know what had hit him.’
Matt nodded, aware that the interview had affected him more than usual. He had had to face many families and tell them their loved one wouldn’t be coming home, but Tom Graham’s pain had channelled into his worries about Eppie and his need to keep her from danger. He couldn’t begin to imagine how he would feel if he were ever placed in Tom’s position, and so pushed the idea to the back of his mind before it stopped him concentrating.
CHAPTER 38
The ringing of the doorbell set off shivers of excitement, and Clive paused to take a sip of wine to fortify himself before moving to let Ben in.
He opened the door to Ben’s back as he clicked his key towards his old hatchback parked in the circular driveway. Ben turned with that now familiar smile.
Almost shaking, Clive stood aside to usher him in. ‘Please come in,’ he said. The words sounded so formal, and he sought to add something lighter. ‘It’s great to have you.’ Then, realising that the words had accurately stated his desire, he blushed in embarrassment and tried to retrace. ‘Oh, I didn’t mean—’
Ben interrupted him by putting a hand on his arm. ‘I know. Don’t stress.’ Then he moved into the hallway, looking around to the carefully selected and placed modern art statue and the Perry Wellman picture that graced the wall.
‘Wow.’
Clive wasn’t sure this was the reaction he expected, but it would do for now. At last he was here.
‘This is some place,’ Ben said, moving forward into the lounge.
Clive moved after him, anxious that Ben like his home.
‘Love the uncluttered look. However, remind me never to invite you to my place,’ he added with a laugh.
Clive wanted to leave showing him the rest of the house until after lunch, fearing that he might not be able to keep his feelings from showing once they reached the bedroom. ‘Can I get you a glass of wine?’ he asked, leading the way down the hall towards the dining room.
Ben enjoyed his food, but lunch to Clive took an eternity, as he watched Ben carefully place each morsel suggestively in his mouth, until finally, they both declined dessert, and Clive offered to show him around. Ben gave him that assessing look again.
‘I’m dying to see what an Englishman’s castle is like.’
He felt unable to reply and simply turned to lead the way out of the dining room. Ben’s hand brushed against his as they made their way up the stairs, and he took the opportunity to grasp Clive’s hand, pulling him closer.
‘If you are sure?’ he whispered his face inches away.
In answer, Clive leant towards him until their mouths met in one long exchange of pent up passion. No further words were needed then, and he opened the door to his bedroom, pausing on the threshold to turn back to Ben for confirmation.
The sight of his large double bed with its elegant white counterpane and matching cushions, waiting there, made him hesitate. It was Ben, who, taking hold of his hand, led him forward.
He paused and looked steadily at Clive, as if checking that this was what he wanted. Clive willed him to continue until Ben placed a hand behind his head and drew him towards him.
The taste of Ben’s mouth spread excitement through the whole of Clive’s body and he could already feel himself responding. Clive put his arm around Ben’s neck, eager to feel the soft curly hairs he had longed to touch. With desire overwhelming him and firing down into his loins, he felt his fingers tighten and pull savagely at the hairs, cruelly signalling his urgent need. Ben pushed him backwards onto the bed.
Then it was as if his entire body was trying to become one with Ben’s. They ripped their clothes away until they strove against each other naked and free, hands and lips eager to experience each other’s bodies as they writhed in passion.
He could feel Ben’s penis pressed against his loins and his own hardness rising. Clive’s passion was now becoming desperate for its climax.
In perfect tune with his need, Ben spun him face downwards on the bed and began to thrust vigorously into him. For a moment, the pain cut through the ecstasy, but then, as Ben drove deeper and deeper, Clive gave himself up to the pure pleasure, which was only heightened when Ben’s hands slid around his hips to grasp him with expert hands. Then Clive gave himself up to the intense joy, letting wave after wave of complete fulfilment overcome him.
It was afterwards, as they lay sated with their arms around each other, that Clive felt for the very first time really happy and loved. This was so different than when he had stumbled his way to an uneasy and purely physical satisfaction w
ith some loose and stupid girl. He felt Ben looking at him and turned to meet his eyes. They kissed, this time without the hungry desire but with a tender, soft loving.
Clive lay in Ben’s arms, slowly allowing the love to absorb itself into his very being. Ben was part of him now, and he wanted to share everything with him.
He turned to see Ben’s face in profile. His eyes were now closed, one arm flung carelessly above his head.
Should Clive tell him of his other absorbing passion? He wanted more than anything for him to be part of it, to experience with him the power and excitement.
CHAPTER 39
As Matt called the team together, he could see they were flagging. This exhaustion was not surprising since most of them had been working non-stop since before six this morning. There was not much information he could give them as they waited on an interim forensic report from Jason, and there would be no hope of more than a preliminary path report until at least tomorrow.
‘Thanks for all your hard work today, everyone,’ Matt said to the team. ‘It seems fairly certain that we are on the way to having a serial killer on our hands. Professor Meredith had indicated that the killer would want to kill again, at shorter and shorter intervals.’ He paused to look around the room at their serious faces.
‘As you can see,’ Matt indicated the picture of Sandi that Sam had just placed on the board, ‘the details look the same. Ditto for the MO, although we should have more on that from Slim tomorrow. He is looking at time of death between nine and twelve p.m.’
‘Were the same objects found with the victim, Sir,’ asked Wendy.
‘Yes, exactly. These are with Jason. The victim is Sandi Tomlinson, aged twenty-three, lived with her parents in Warwick, and engaged to be married next April to Tom Graham, a fireman. They have been engaged for eight months. We have interviewed Tom and ruled him out of the enquiry. The last time he saw Miss Tomlinson was at lunchtime on Saturday. That was at…’
‘Penny’s Pizzas, Guv,’ Sam said.
‘Thanks, Sam. Penny Rigby couldn’t recall anything or anyone suspicious from Saturday lunchtime, although she did remember Sandi and Tom sitting at their usual table. She says all the regulars knew of their forthcoming wedding, and Sandi would update them on the details. Penny says it was almost as if she was part of the family. Fluff?’
Fluff stood to take over. ‘Sandi’s body was found by an Amanda Pearson, who was on a two-night pre-wedding package. The bride is a fitness fanatic and, as matron of honour, Amanda had agreed to give up smoking while undertaking her duties. However, the temptation was too great and, at five-thirty, she slipped out to go to the smoker’s tent.’
‘I bet she’s given up now.’
Everyone ignored Grant’s flippant remark and Fluff carried on. There was nothing to report from her visit to the grief-stricken parents, except they seemed normal, loving parents. Matt thought of the ripples that spread out and engulfed those close to a murder victim.
Sam gave a brief outline of their interview with Tom Graham before self-consciously reading out the phone message Sandi had left for Tom at twenty-forty-seven last night:
‘Hi love.’
‘That’s Sandi,’ Sam said.
Matt indicated for him just to read the transcript.
‘Have you been busy or is the engine gleaming? I know you don’t like it too quiet.’
Sam coughed and Matt indicated for him to hurry up.
‘Busy here. Demanding bride with millions of hens. I won’t be like that—promise.’
‘Anyway, I’m guessing you’re out saving babies and little old ladies. Love you. See you tomorrow. Love you.’
Listening to Sam reading out the last loving message to Tom, in a rather flat voice, only emphasised the sadness of it all. Matt still had a vivid picture of Tom as they had left him, a broken man. Could a man ever recover from the sudden, tragic loss of the love of his life? He supposed thousands did so every day. His thoughts went to Eppie, and he wondered how she was feeling.
Sam’s voice brought him back. ‘Towards the end part of the tape there is something in the background. It sounds a bit like a squeak but we should have more on that in the morning when the audio guy has had a look, or a listen.’
‘No chance of us having a listen then, Sir?’ Grant drawled from the back.
‘We have had our hands full all day, so I thought it best to leave it to the experts, although it would be a good idea if you have a few hours to spend this evening,’ Matt added, as the team grinned, always happy when Grant had been knocked back.
Matt knew he would never like the man. He had been difficult from the start, even though Matt had made every effort to help him integrate into the team, Grant held back, giving off an aura of amused superiority.
‘It can’t be that you have something else to do, can it, Grant?’ Fluff called out without looking around to face the man.
Matt saw Grant’s face darken. Fluff would be wiser to leave him alone.
‘Not like you then, DS Meadows,’ he snapped.
Fluff flushed amid the whistles from the team, and Matt stepped in to suggest they take a break ready for an early start in the morning. The new shift of uniform officers would take over some of the mind-numbing sifting of information coming in about the dolls, lollipops, dresses, materials, soldiers, to mention just a few of the leads the team were following.
DS William Oldham would supervise, although he hadn’t been too happy to be awakened from his post Sunday-lunch doze in front of the TV with a request to turn out. Old Bill, his nickname, was the oldest member of the team and approaching retirement, but Matt was confident that he would do a good job in keeping everything on track now he was here.
Fluff came up to Matt as the rest of the team began to leave. ‘Going to take a break yourself? I would think Eppie could do with five minutes of your company after this morning.’
Matt knew she was right; besides a sudden tiredness was washing over him, and he had had the niggling worry of Eppie in the back of his mind all day. Still, he felt he needed to keep on top of everything.
It was as if Fluff could read his mind. ‘Come on, Old Bill will be fine. You know he will call you if anyone as much as sneezes,’ she teased.
Matt grinned at her accurate description of Bill, who, with his pension firmly in view, took no risks whatsoever and, come to think of it, probably never had. ‘OK. You’re right, and I give in gracefully,’ Matt laughed as he gave her a mock bow.
Fluff turned to leave, but Matt called her back and pushed shut his office door. ‘My turn to give advice now,’ he said. ‘Best not to cross Grant. I don’t know what he is capable of, but I just can’t trust the man.’
Fluff didn’t answer straight away. ‘I do know exactly what he is capable of. That’s the problem.’
Matt was surprised at the contained anger in her face. ‘Anything I should know about?’
‘No. I’ll deal with it, Matt.’ Giving him no chance to question her further, Fluff opened the office door. She turned before she left and, in an obvious attempt to lighten the mood, she said, ‘Go home to Eppie. I’ll be fine.’
Matt had to be content with that, so after a brief word with Old Bill, just to make sure he would call him if anything came up, Matt left.
He decided to go home his favourite way, along the Myton Road and over the bridge into Warwick. Although slightly longer, this route took him past Warwick Castle.
Seeing the Castle standing there so firm and solid after all these years always gave Matt a sense of proportion, no matter what problems he was facing. In his tour-guide years, it was one of his favourite places, very different from the ruins of Kenilworth, but all ages seemed able to enjoy what was on offer. He was dying to show Eppie all around the area, but there had been no chance yet. Resolving to remedy this as soon as the case was over, Matt headed on through Warwick and home.
As he let himself into the flat, the wonderful smell of roast beef drifted out to meet him, and he realised how hungry he wa
s. Eppie was in the kitchen washing dishes and singing along to a CD. She seemed happy and unaffected about Sandi’s death, which left Matt puzzled, as he had visions of her still sitting crying. She turned, sensing his presence and came immediately to kiss him, putting her wet, soapy hands around his neck to pull his face down to her level.
‘Oh, I’m so very glad you’re home. Can you stay? I’ve cooked just in case,’ Eppie indicated the rib roast steaming fresh from the oven, as she tried to wipe the soap from Matt’s neck with the tea towel.
‘Are you all right? I thought—’
Eppie put the tea towel down. ‘At first all I wanted to do was cry. It’s too dreadful to think about. Poor Tom and her family. Then I thought, the best thing I could do was feed the man in charge, help him catch Sandi’s killer. It’s helped block it out for a while.’
Eppie stopped, noticing how tired Matt looked. ‘But you can’t do that, can you?’ Eppie took hold of Matt’s hand and led him to his favourite chair. ‘Right now you’re going to sit there and let me wait on you. Everything is nearly ready. Wine or beer?’
Matt opted for a beer and, taking a deep breath, he sat relaxing for the first time that day. The wonderful smell of a Sunday roast had circulated every corner of the flat and took Matt back to those family dinners at home when he and Megs, his sister, would pester their dad for the first, slightly burnt, cut of the meat.
Living alone he had never bothered with roasts and hardly ever slipped a pork chop or steak under the grill. He was looking forward to this dinner, and his flat seemed like a real home at last.
As Eppie brought him the beer, she put a pile of post at his side. ‘Only if you feel up to it; otherwise it will wait, I’m sure.’
Matt looked idly through the top of the pile and, as these were uninteresting, he concentrated instead on his beer and contemplation of the meal to come.
It was after his appetite had been satisfied, and he was sitting congratulating himself on marrying such an excellent cook while waiting for Eppie to bring out the apple crumble that she called from the kitchen.