Night Watcher

by Chris Longmuir

Her control only lasted until she reached the bathroom. Locking the door she sat on the toilet seat and grabbing a towel buried her face in it and wept.

  ***

  ‘Christ, it’s the RSPCA that’s needed on this one, not us.’ Annoyance still niggled at Bill because of the call out. The car engine whined, contributing to his mood, as he stared out of the window at the enveloping blackness of the country road. ‘And what’s more, why does it need a detective sergeant and a detective inspector to handle this one? Surely the uniform boys could’ve done it.’

  ‘You finished grumping yet?’ Andy manoeuvred a cigarette between his lips while he steered the car with his other hand. ‘Bugger it,’ he muttered, as the dashboard lighter slipped out of his fingers. ‘Might at least have waited till I got it lit.’ He sucked the unlit cigarette. ‘I needed a drag, I did.’ His face, normally glum, took on an expression of intense sadness.

  ‘Thought you were giving it up? Anyway you didn’t answer me. Why us?’

  ‘Because she’s some kind of hotshot business woman who has some kind of clout with the Chief Constable. That’s why.’ Andy spat the cigarette out of his mouth. ‘You think I like this anymore than you do?’

  The two men lapsed into an uneasy silence until they reached the massive iron gates that protected the house and grounds. Andy rolled his window down, pressed the buzzer on the gatepost and announced, ‘Police,’ when the tinny electronic voice demanded to know who was there. The gates swung open, closing again after they had driven through.

  ‘Impressive security,’ muttered Bill.

  Gravel crunched under the tyres as the car rolled gently to a stop in front of the house. Andy unfolded himself from the driver’s seat and hoisted himself out into the fresh air. Bill, who had developed pins and needles in his left foot, opened the passenger door and stretched his legs out of the car, sitting for a moment while the blood prickled back into his foot.

  ‘Christ I wish you’d get a bigger car,’ he said as he stood up. ‘How you can bear to drive this midget of a thing beats me.’ Bill knew the car, a vintage Ford, was Andy’s pride and joy.

  Andy glowered at him. ‘Time to stop moaning and get down to business,’ he snapped.

  ‘I suppose,’ Bill replied. He was chancing his luck with Andy now, and he knew it. Although they had an easy relationship with each other, there was only so much Andy would tolerate from him.

  A tall man with dark brown, wavy, shoulder length hair answered the door. His features were strong and masculine belying the single diamond stud earring he wore in his left ear, which might otherwise have given him an effeminate look. ‘I’m sorry to have troubled you officers,’ he said, ‘but my wife’s in a bit of a state. She’s been a bit nervous lately, seeing shadows round every corner.’ He led them into the house. ‘My wife’s in the lounge.’

  He turned to face them when they reached the door of the lounge. ‘I forgot to introduce myself, ‘I’m Scott Ralston.’ He held out his hand and gripped Andy’s and then Bill’s hand in a strong grasp.

  Bill never really trusted people who deliberately strengthened their grip for handshakes and he instinctively disliked this man who impressed him as being just a little too smooth.

  ‘And this is my wife, Nicole.’ Scott flung open the door of the lounge. ‘Here are the policemen you sent for, my dear,’ he said. The tone of his voice indicated his disapproval.

  The woman curled up in the corner of the massive white sofa was younger than Bill had anticipated and quite pretty except for the redness of her eyes making it obvious she had been crying. Her hair was dark blonde, and her suit was rumpled where she had lain on it.

  ‘Thank goodness you’ve come.’ She blinked tears away from her eyes.

  Bill’s hands clenched and he shifted his weight from foot to foot. He was reminded of Evie, his ex-wife, who could always get him to do things he did not want to do. This woman had the same expression and her likeness to Evie was disturbing. Something else niggled at the back of his mind, but he could not quite put his finger on it.

  The woman looked at him. Tears glistened on the end of her eyelashes, but she dashed them away with the back of her hand before they could roll down her face.

  Her actions were so like Evie’s it was almost frightening. And, although she did not look as helpless as Evie, she had that same look of vulnerability. Bill had felt such a fool when he’d realized that Evie’s vulnerability was simply an act to manipulate him into doing whatever she wanted.

  Heat built up under his shirt and he could feel the familiar tightening of his skin as if his body was too big for its covering. He did not know what to do with his hands so he rammed them into his pockets. Whatever happened tonight, he was not going to fall into the trap of feeling so sorry for her he would do anything to stop her crying.

  Bill pulled his notebook out of his pocket and opened it. He cleared his throat, ‘You reported that an intruder was threatening you.’ He did not mean it to sound intimidating, but his voice was loud and hoarse, mirroring his resentment at being called out on what he considered a trivial complaint.

  The woman grasped a cushion to her body in a defensive motion and glared at him, making it obvious she was used to more courtesy when she was being addressed. Her husband, perched on the arm of the sofa, dwarfed her, increasing the impression of her vulnerability.

  Bill remembered how Evie used to affect him when she was upset, and he wondered why Scott Ralston appeared insensitive to his wife’s distress. Maybe he was used to it and maybe he had become impervious to her emotions in the same way he had with Evie. It’s all I need, he thought, another neurotic woman.

  Bill sensed Andy watching him and modified his voice. He had no right to be judging this woman, even if she did remind him of an unfortunate period in his own life.

  He turned and looked out of the window into the darkness of the night. ‘Maybe if you tell us what happened?’ His voice was now unnaturally gentle.

  ***

  Nicole grasped the cushion, wrapped her arms round it and held it tightly to her body like a shield. She had lost all her poise, all her self-control, all her skills of communication and all she was left with was fear and anger. But if she gave way to emotion now she would be lost. Angry tears built up within her and she struggled to retain some composure.

  Why wouldn’t these bastards stop treating her like a child and understand that she was serious? Scott was the biggest bastard of them all, sitting on the arm of the sofa and treating her like some sort of candidate for a mental ward. And these two policemen, particularly the younger one – supercilious bastard – looking at her as if she was some sort of freak. She was unable to prevent an angry tear from trickling down her cheek.

  Ken would not have treated her like this. He would have taken her in his arms and comforted her. How she longed for him now, longed for him to be here instead of Scott. It took something like this to make her realize what she was missing by holding on to her marriage for the dubious rewards of Scott’s prospects. She made herself a promise that when this was sorted out she would employ a private detective and get shot of Scott. There was not a hint of doubt in her mind that he would provide her with ample evidence so that she would come out of any divorce better than him.

  Anger and determination surged through her and she relinquished the cushion to pull herself out of the sofa. ‘If you follow me to the kitchen I’ll show you what the problem is,’ she snapped, wiping her tears away with one furious swipe of her hand.

  Nicole stalked out of the room, ignoring Scott’s theatrical sigh and the pained expression on the younger policeman’s face. She did not look at them again until she threw the kitchen door open, stood back, and said, ‘There. See for yourself.’ She glared at them triumphantly.

  The younger policeman scratched his head with his pencil, frowned, and then turned to stare at her. He seemed to be trying to suppress a smile, although she could see the perplexity in his eyes. He murmured, ‘Just exactly what are we supposed to be looking
at?’

  ‘The blasted animals, of course!’ She had wanted to say fucking animals, but didn’t think she should, they were already looking at her as if she was unhinged.

  ‘What animals?’

  Nicole swung round and looked at the kitchen floor. There was nothing there. The kitchen was as spotless as it usually was. ‘But they were there! Laid out in a row like trophies. All dead.’ She was unable to keep the horror out of her voice. Her eyes searched the room. She walked into it, but there was nothing. No animals, dead or alive. ‘You bastard,’ she swung round to face Scott, ‘I told you not to move them.’

  ‘But I didn’t,’ he protested. ‘I haven’t been back in the kitchen since I left you here.’

  ‘I suppose they just got up and walked away.’ Nicole’s voice was bitter.

  Scott regained his composure and raised an eyebrow. ‘Whatever you say, darling, far be it for me to argue with you.’

  Bill sighed, ‘Let’s go back to the lounge and I’ll take your statements.’ He raised his eyebrows as he looked at Andy and his expression said it all, bloody neurotic woman, bloody waste of time.

  ***

  Andy’s vintage Ford rolled through the security gates. ‘Well what did you make of all that?’

  ‘Bloody waste of time if you ask me,’ Bill replied. ‘To think I got called away from what might have been a promising relationship to see to a neurotic bitch like that.’ He frowned into the darkness trying to visualize Julie’s face, but from the short time they had been together all he could recall was her large, sad eyes that looked at him, but seemed to see someone else.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. Granted it was a strange story and we’ve no evidence that any of it happened, but it does make me wonder.’ Andy fell silent. ‘What d’you make of the husband?’

  ‘Bit of a smoothie. I wouldn’t trust him with my wallet.’

  ‘D’you think he maybe set his wife up? Trying to give her a bit of a scare, or d’you go with her story of some nocturnal prowler?’

  ‘I suppose it could be either, but I’m more inclined to go with the theory that she’s a neurotic bitch who’s looking for a bit of attention from hubby.’

  ‘Doesn’t explain the animals though.’ Andy rummaged in his pocket for a cigarette. ‘They both agree the animals were there when they got home,’ Andy stuck the cigarette between his lips, ‘and then they vanished.’

  Bill grunted. He was not in the mood for vanishing animal mysteries. ‘Not really Sherlock Holmes stuff though, is it,’ he said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  The crowds in Donovan’s kept increasing and with each swing of the door more people packed themselves into the crowded bar. Julie narrowed her eyes as the clattering glasses, chattering voices, and strident background music jangled through her head setting her nerves on edge. The gathering pain building in her temples was becoming more than she could bear.

  ‘Won’t your wife be wondering where you are?’ Julie sipped at her drink trying to overcome the pain and the accompanying nausea.

  Harry swallowed the remains of his beer and then rolled the now empty pint glass between the palms of his hands. He contemplated it for a moment before he spoke, his voice barely audible over the noise in the pub. ‘She’s used to me. As long as I go home for a wee while to see Rosie to bed she doesn’t worry, and I did that before I came out.’ He sighed. ‘Sometimes I wish she’d bawl me out, but she never does. It makes me feel guilty in a way. It’s as if she takes all the blame on herself, and I don’t know how to make it better for her. I can’t get her to understand that Rosie’s just Rosie, and it doesn’t matter that she’s not like other kids. I feel I’ve failed her.’

  Julie stretched her arm across the table and laid her hand on top of one of his. ‘I’m sure she thinks you’re a good man, Harry.’

  Harry laughed, ‘A good man? I just wish I was.’ He contemplated his empty glass. ‘I don’t deserve her,’ he mumbled.

  Julie raised her glass to her mouth, but the thought of taking another mouthful was too much for her and she carefully placed it back on the table. ‘I think I’ve had enough, Harry.’ The room tilted slightly and the crowds pressed in on her making it difficult to breathe. She would feel better once she was out in the fresh air. ‘Think I’ll get a taxi.’ She rose from her seat, steadying herself with a hand on the wall, and pushed her way to the door.

  ‘Maybe I’d better see you into the taxi.’ Harry seemed to be frowning at her.

  ‘Nonsense,’ she said, pushing the door open. The fresh air slapped her in the face and her knees buckled. She staggered a few steps outside and leaned on the building for support. ‘Oh God, I’m going to be sick,’ she muttered, before sliding down the wall and collapsing into a heap on the pavement.

  ***

  Ken stared after Claire as she stormed out of the kitchen. ‘Christ almighty,’ he muttered to himself, ‘what’s come over the bloody woman.’ He raised the can of beer to his lips and gulped, but his eyes were troubled because, in his own way, he loved her. It was just that he was not used to her making so much fuss about any of his little romances. After all who did they hurt? They just made life that little bit more interesting. He drained the can and, squeezing it flat, threw it into the rubbish bin beside the sink.

  He was tempted to go after Claire, but as usual he took the easy way out and reached into the fridge for another beer. It was not as if he had been doing anything he shouldn’t have tonight, he thought, deliberately forgetting his afternoon session with Nicole. So Claire had no right to be so uptight about it. Still, he thought, he had better end it with Nicole. Pity really, because she was hot stuff. He would tell Nicole tomorrow. Or maybe the next day, although he supposed it might be better to wait until Patrick’s plans were clear and he had filched all Nicole’s ideas.

  Ken sat down at the kitchen table and several beers later he was sure of what he was going to do, and positive he would never look at another woman again. It was Claire for him, Claire and the kids and no way was he going to lose them.

  Feeling pleased with himself he rose and walked through to the lounge, eager to tell Claire how much he loved her and convince her she had no need to worry about him straying again. From now on he was a homebird.

  The lounge was in darkness.

  His heart jumped and fluttered inside his chest as he experienced a sudden twinge of irrational fear that she might have left him already. But he would have heard the door as well as her car starting up if that was the case, and he had heard nothing. He switched on the light thinking she might be sitting in the dark, but the room was empty. Toys lay scattered on the carpet and a solitary wine glass adorned the antique sideboard. Absent-mindedly he picked it up, but there was no ring mark on the polished wood so he laid it down again. The silence in the empty room was broken only by the slow tick of the grandfather clock in the corner and he realized with a jolt that it was after midnight.

  Breath whistled out of his lungs in a long drawn out sigh as his paranoia vanished. Of course Claire would never leave him. She would have gone to bed, that was all. Probably too angry to say goodnight, he thought.

  He turned towards the stairs. Maybe she wouldn’t be sleeping. Maybe he could sweet-talk her, and tomorrow, or the next day, it would be goodbye to Nicole.

  The bedroom was quiet when he entered, but he sensed Claire was not sleeping. He bent over her and extended his hand to stroke her hair. It was at that exact moment his mobile rang.

  ‘Blast it,’ Ken muttered under his breath. ‘Who the hell can that be at this time of the night.’ He quickly left the bedroom closing the door behind him and walked along the landing into the bathroom where he sat on the toilet seat to answer his phone.

  ‘Ken. Is that you?’ Nicole’s voice sounded strange.

  ‘Of course it’s me. Who else would it be?’ His voice was sharp with annoyance. ‘You almost woke Claire,’ he complained.

  ‘Fuck, Claire,’ she said. ‘I’ve had the most awful evening and I wanted to talk
to you. You’re the only one who can understand.’

  Ken gritted his teeth and listened while Nicole told him what had happened. She finished by saying, ‘Scott is the most selfish bastard out, he doesn’t have a single bit of understanding or sympathy for me so I’ve decided I’m finished with him. It’ll be you and me, Ken, what we’ve always wanted and never thought we could have. I’ll talk to you in the morning and we can make our plans about when we’ll tell Scott and Claire. Love you darling.’ The phone clicked as Nicole hung up.

  Ken sat for several minutes, staring at the phone. He had never meant all those promises, surely she must realize that. He had only made them because he believed, just as she had, that he would never have to keep them. What a bloody mess.

  He shivered. Rising from his seat, he tiptoed to the bedroom where he quickly undressed and slid into the bed beside Claire, to lie wide awake for the rest of the night, staring into the darkness.

  ***

  Harry stared at Julie in dismay. He could not leave her here. He would have to get her home. He looked round him for a taxi, but the streets were deserted and he didn’t have a mobile. Babs kept telling him to get one, but most of them were expensive and he never got round to it. He thought about going back into the pub to phone – but that would mean leaving her sprawled on the pavement and he could not do that. Thoughts buzzed round his mind, popping in and out in no particular order. Babs always said he was not good at thinking out problems and she was right.

  He bent down, ‘Julie, Julie.’ He shook her, but she only mumbled. ‘Where d’you live, Julie? I need to know so I can get you home.’ Julie’s head rolled limply as if she were a baby who had not yet developed neck muscles. It was hopeless. Harry knew she would not come round for some time yet so he hoisted her up until he could get her armpit resting on his shoulder. He was not a particularly big man and she was tall for a woman so he did not have to stoop too far. But what now? Look for a taxi? But where could he take her? He could not go home to Babs with a strange young woman who’d had too much to drink. He doubted if even Babs would understand that. There was only one place and luckily it was not too far to walk.