Dead Feint

by Grant Atherton

  I had to stop her. “Yes, he’s been taken ill again. It’s much more serious this time.”

  Over her shoulder, I could see Rusty was becoming increasingly agitated. He was scowling again. “What’s with this guy?” He sounded suspicious.

  “He was in the force with Nathan’s father way back. Retired now, but we always stayed in touch. He’s not had a good time of it these last few months. He’s been in a private nursing home for a while now.”

  I turned back to Karen. “Nathan will understand,” I said. “Just let him know.” I tried a weak smile. “I’m sure he’ll forgive me once he knows why.”

  “But what...?”

  She was about to demand an explanation but I cut her short. “Sorry, but I have to go. It won’t wait.” I said to Rusty. “Could you let Karen out, while I get ready.”

  She frowned. “Do you need a lift? I can always phone Nathan.”

  “No, really. It’s quicker if I go through Tinkers Wood. It’s just the other side.”

  “Is that wise? I thought Nathan had warned you off going out alone without the car?”

  “I’ll be fine. Honestly.”

  Rusty was already holding the door open, forestalling any further debate. She shot me a wary look, nodded to Rusty, and left.

  Rusty closed the door behind her and said, “Nice move. Everyone will think you were off on your errand of mercy when you were attacked.” He ditched the jacket, throwing it over the arm of the chair, and waved the gun towards the back door. “Turn off the alarm and let’s be on our way.

  I tried to play for time, pretending to search for the alarm fob, and, once I’d found it, deliberately fumbling my attempts to turn off the alarm.

  It would be at least twenty minutes before Karen made it to the Dog and Duck and, even then, it may take Nathan a while to understand my message. If he did at all. Looking for an opportunity to turn on Rusty was still my best bet but, if all else failed, Nathan was my last hope.

  I eventually turned off the alarm, mindful of Rusty’s growing agitation, and opened the back door.

  “Keep moving.”

  I made it to the end of the garden, unlocked the gate, and turned to face him. Maybe there was still time to talk him out of this.

  It would be pointless appealing to his better nature; he didn’t have one. The only possibility of persuading him to abandon his intended course of action was to persuade him of the risk to his own well-being.

  “What if someone sees us?” I said. “How will you explain that away?”

  “Not a problem. It’s easy enough to keep the gun out of sight and I’ll just say I walked some of the way with you.” He laughed. “Later, I can tell everyone I was concerned for your safety.” That seemed to amuse him and he was still chuckling as we headed towards the forest path.

  From behind me, he said, “Stay off the path, we’re less likely to be spotted.

  I veered off to my right through the untrodden undergrowth, and, half turning as I walked ahead of him, said, “I take it we’re heading to the old cottage.”

  “Got it in one,” he said. “Where else?”

  Where else indeed. It was all part of the game. The psychopath’s power play against his opponents, against society. Disposing of me at the scene of his other murders would give him a macabre sense of satisfaction, a gleeful pleasure, the sort of low-level emotional boost at the limbic level, the only sort of fleeting emotional high that would appeal to his psychotic nature.

  I thanked the fates that I had, at least, got that right, had anticipated the twisted logic that would make him choose this place.

  I made my way slowly, stumbling now and again to hinder our progress even more but he became ever more agitated at each delay and I had to be careful not to annoy him too much.

  As we neared the broken walls of the old cottage, my heart pounded and a trickle of sweat ran down my spine. Once inside the walls, he brought me to a halt, and ordered me to turn around. “This will do nicely,” he said. “Almost the same spot.”

  But for the occasional squawk of a gull overhead or the rustle of some small creature in the undergrowth, there were no other sounds. The trees stood quiet around us, as if holding their communal breath, watching and waiting for the inevitable conclusion to our journey.

  I turned towards Rusty, and stared into his calm impassive face across the rough uneven ground that separated us.

  He raised the gun.

  I was out of options.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  I had to play for time and my only hope was to rely on my familiarity with the psychopathic personality, the need for self-gratification.

  “It was very clever,” I said, “the way you staged the scene. Of course, not everyone would get it. But I did. You wanted us to admire your work.”

  A wide grin spread across his face. “I knew you’d understand. Those other idiots wouldn’t have a clue, but I knew you would.”

  I said, “I still don’t see how Tammy Page could have been mistaken for your sister. Your gang buddy must have known what Candy looked like.”

  He was still grinning. “That’s the part you don’t get. You see, Tammy’s death wasn’t a mistake. Candy killed her.”

  Now he was laughing. The expression of shock on my face must have amused him.

  “Let me tell you a few things about my sister and me,” he said. “While you were still playing with your toys, me and Candy was running errands on the streets for the big man while my mother ‘entertained’ friends in our room. My father dropped by now and again to give her a good hiding and take what little money she’d earned. Candy and I learned to look after ourselves on the streets.”

  “Not enough to keep you out of prison.”

  That seemed to amuse him too. “It was part of the life. And I met some good mates inside. Learned a few tricks too. All those lonely women on the outside. Just longing for a bit of long-distance loving. A few love letters and body-building photos and they were soon hooked.” He was grinning as he thought back to it. “Next would come the tales of financial woes waiting on the outside. You’d be surprised,” he said, “how easy it was. They would be almost begging you to take their money. And once you’re engaged, it just comes rolling in.”

  “Engaged?”

  “Sure. I was once engaged to three at the same time. Bigamy might be a crime but serial engagements aren’t. And once I was out of prison, it was easy enough to give them the blow off.”

  I still couldn’t see where this was going. “What did Candy have to do with this?”

  “She came in with me once I got out. It was just the two of us. She was a natural.”

  “How did it work?”

  “We started out with the angry husband routine. Candy would pick up some mark in a bar and take him home. Then I would turn up as the outraged husband and relieve him of his wallet as compensation.”

  He was getting into his stride now. He was enjoying this, boasting about it. I just needed to keep him going.

  “Eventually, we moved on to bigger things,” he continued. “The sweetheart scam. Marks were easy to find through the obits. Lonely rich widowers looking for solace. They soon fell for Candy’s ample charms.”

  “And where did you fit in?”

  “I acted as the roper. Got to know them first and assessed their potential. Then I would introduce them to Candy. And I was always around to act as muscle in case things went adrift.”

  Some of the pieces fell into place. Marcus Farrow had been right all along. His father had been Candy’s latest victim. Though it obviously hadn’t worked out as planned.

  “So what went wrong?” I said.

  The grin faded. “We landed a big one. A real big fish. Candy had him hooked real good. Got a Porsche out of him not long after I introduced them. She was soon stinging the old fool for all he had.” He was scowling now. “But then the boys in blue caught up with me. For the driving job. I’d been doing it on the side. Ended up with a two-year stretch. While I was inside, Can
dy bled the mark dry then did a runner. Took the proceeds with her.”

  “She betrayed you?”

  “Seems so.” He was clearly agitated, his mind elsewhere, no longer fully concentrating on me. For the briefest of moments, I considered making a run for it and glanced around me, looking for somewhere I could find cover.

  He must have caught my action and realised what I was doing. Bad move. Now he was on his guard.

  “Don’t even think about it,” he said.

  “I’m not that dumb,” I retorted. “I’m not likely to get far, am I?”

  “You got that right.” He raised the gun again.

  “So your friend spotted her here?” I said, getting him back on topic.

  “That’s when she ‘phoned me. Spun me some tale about a relative of the mark taking exception to her. A real hard case. Said she skipped cos she was frightened of him but always meant to get in touch. Next, I hear she’d been killed. That sort of put an end to it all.

  “I’m beginning to understand now. That’s when you asked for my help. It wasn’t her you were bothered about. You wanted a lead to her ill-gotten gains.”

  “It had to be somewhere. I needed to know where. Asking for your help was a long shot. But it was worth a try.”

  “Didn’t quite work out as expected, did it? It must have been a shock to learn she was still alive.”

  “She always was a clever bitch. Didn’t take me long to work it out though. See, I know my sister better than anyone. I knew what she was capable of.”

  “Are you saying she staged her own death?”

  “You’ve still not figured it out have you? Why do you supposed she hooked up with someone who looked like her? You think it was coincidence? I figured it out straight off.”

  A chill ran down my spine. “She befriended Tammy just to use her? To kill her?”

  Rusty smiled. “Like I said, I knew what she was capable of. We were two of a kind.”

  And so they were. I should have seen that coming. It is well recognised that there is a strong genetic disposition to psychopathy. Nurture plays a part of course, but with the kind of parents these two had, the kind of parents who, given their own behaviour, could themselves have had psychopathic tendencies, it was almost inevitable they would both share the same psychoses.

  He carried on with his story. “I came down here as soon as I knew and booked a place. Ironic really that I should be living back at Woodside Cottage.”

  “And a convenient reason for your fingerprints to be all over the place.”

  “Yes, nice bonus that.”

  “And you had no trouble finding her?”

  “A small place like this? It doesn’t take long. I kept a low profile. Stayed in the car while I cruised around. Spotted her shopping in town.”

  “Odd that she should have stayed around.”

  “Not really. She’d got herself a new mark by then. John Farrow. She wasn’t going to let him go so easily.”

  “You confronted her?”

  “You bet I did.”

  “I take it the meeting didn’t go too well?”

  “It went off okay to start with. She came over to stay the night. Made some excuse about visiting a friend in London. I got the big sob story about how she’d been threatened and needed to cover her tracks. I wasn’t buying any of that crap though.”

  “And so it turned violent?”

  “She turned on the charm. Said we’d sort out the cash in the morning. But after dinner that night, I caught her trying to slip a Mikey in my drink. That’s when the bitch showed her true colours. Went for me with a knife.”

  There was a movement behind him. I shifted my gaze slightly, as if looking into the distance, not wanting to alert him. Nathan and Lowe were making their way towards us across the clearing, moving slowly to avoid making a noise.

  I turned back to him, focused on his face and raised my voice in an attempt to detract attention from any extraneous sound around us.

  “And so you killed her.”

  He shrugged. “What else could I do. She went mental. I felled her with one blow. Slammed her head against the fire grate. Had to finish her off.”

  Nathan and Lowe were closer now, almost within reach.

  “And now I understand why you moved her here,” I said. “I wondered why you would take the risk. But now it’s obvious.”

  He seemed pleased at that.

  “It just seemed fitting somehow. My final revenge. The last laugh. She was the one who’d already made it her final resting place. It seemed only right to make sure that, in the end, that’s exactly what it was.”

  “There is one thing you didn’t take account of though.”

  His brow furrowed. “What?”

  From right behind him, Nathan said, “Me.”

  He was poised ready to spring.

  And as Rusty wheeled around to face him, he grabbed his wrist, twisted his arm, and wrenched the gun from his grasp as Lowe kicked his legs from under him and brought him crashing to the ground, howling with rage.

  With his arms twisted behind his back and Nathan straddling him, he struggled in vain as Lowe snapped a pair of handcuffs on him.

  Still howling with rage, he glared up at me, murderous fury written large across his face.

  My legs were giving way beneath me, and my heart raced, but I was determined not to let him see how frightened I had been. I moved towards him, dropped to a crouch, and said, “What you didn’t take account of was your overweening arrogance. You thought you were invincible. Well, you weren’t.”

  I stood up and stepped back as Lowe hauled a struggling Rusty to his feet.

  “How did you do it?” he said.

  “It was easy. I told Karen I was visiting Sylus Gray.” I spread my hands around me. “Well, here we are. This is where he lived before he shot himself. All of us long-term locals knew the stories about Sylus. They were part of local folklore. Only outsiders like you wouldn’t know.”

  He snarled at me as Lowe dragged him away.

  In the painful silence that followed, Nathan and I stood facing each other. He looked down at the gun and then back to me, a look of abject misery on his face.

  I knew how harrowing this must have been for him and how distressed he must be feeling right now. And I couldn’t begin to imagine the anguish he must have felt as he raced over here, the gruesome scenarios that must have played out in his mind as he wondered if he would make it in time.

  A raging mix of emotions, regret and sorrow and despair and overwhelming love and need, welled up inside me and swept out towards him.

  Even as the tears filled my eyes, I tried to ease his pain, tried to make light of our situation with a quip. “Before I forget,” I said, “Happy birthday.”

  The next moment, I was on the ground on all fours, sobbing uncontrollably, my body shaking, fingers clawing at the soft earth.

  And then his arms were around me and he pulled me close, hushing me with soothing words as he rocked me in his comforting embrace.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Karen had insisted on driving. “I know you three will want a drink or two on the way back,” she explained.

  Lowe sat next to her in the passenger seat of her Mondeo and Nathan sat beside me in the back, his hand on my thigh.

  Once he’d vented his anger at me for not reporting my suspicions about Rusty as soon as they’d been aroused and after reminding me what a complete fucking idiot I was, he’d calmed down and was now more solicitous.

  “Are you sure you’re up to this?” he said.

  “Are you kidding?” I said, “I’m looking forward to it. And besides, we owe you a birthday meal.”

  “This is your night,” he said.

  I patted his leg. “Then we’ll make it a joint celebration.”

  We were on our way to London’s Grosvenor House. It was the day of the Broadcast Awards and we’d decided to make the most of it and treat ourselves to an overnighter.

  I cast him a sideways glance. “You neve
r did like him, did you?” I didn’t need to say who.

  “There was just something about him. The way he looked at me sometimes when you were there. As if he were challenging me. If I had to give it a name, I’d say it was contempt.”

  “I’m just glad you got the message.”

  “It was all thanks to Karen. She was the one who worked it out.”

  Karen butted in. “I’m not stupid, Mikey. I knew something was wrong. And when you mentioned Sylus Gray, I got it straight away.” To Lowe, she said. “When we were kids, we played in the old gamekeeper’s cottage. Mikey used to try to scare me with tales of Sylus Gray haunting the place. Not that it got him anywhere.”

  “Yes, she always was hard-bitten, Richard. You’ll need to remember that when you’re married.”

  Lowe laughed. “I remember you telling me about those tales when we first visited the crime scene. Looks like Sylus did you a favour this time.”

  Nathan said, “And maybe in future, Mikey, you’ll try not to get involved with psychopaths.”

  “It’s not something I intend to make a habit of, I promise you.”

  “I’m just glad we got there in time,” said Lowe. “That must have been one scary moment.”

  And not one I wanted to dwell on. I changed the subject. “Nowhere near as scary as the one Nathan has to face when we get to London.”

  “Oh?” Nathan sounded concerned.

  “My agent wants to meet you to make sure you’re suitable partner material. By the time he’s finished the third degree, you’ll be jelly.”

  Lowe and Karen laughed.

  Nathan snorted. “Guess I’ll have to take my chances.”

  As it happened, Jerry heartily approved of my choice. We met him in the foyer of Grosvenor House and once introductions were out of the way, Nathan and Jerry were chatting away like old friends. Quite a surprise given how taciturn they both were most of the time.

  Later, while we settled into our rooms and changed for the ceremony, Nathan seemed much more at ease than he had been in a long time. I hoped he was finally coming to terms with Brandon’s attempted suicide and not letting it burden his conscience.