Next of Sin: A psychological thriller

by Lisa Gordon

  It was an emotional moment, made more awkward for Gaby by the fact that both she and Meagan knew what had probably happened to Shelleigh. She was partly relieved when Meagan gave Lilly a hug and she was able to disappear to the counter to choose the muffins.

  Coffee and muffins took precedence over conversation until Gaby noticed that five policemen had congregated at the Starbucks entrance. “Has there been some trouble?” she enquired.

  “No,” giggled Lilly. “It must be going to rain.”

  “What?” asked Gaby and Meagan in chorus.

  “Yeah, I kid you not. We’ve noticed it always happens. We joke that the cops down Picadilly radio this bunch to tip ’em off when it starts raining, hence a good time for a coffee break.” Gaby was relieved for the humour, which helped ease what had been a very intense afternoon.

  “Lilly,” began Meagan, “was Shell seeing anyone?”

  “You mean like a boyfriend?” she asked and Meagan nodded. “Yeah, actually a few months before she went to Japan, she started seeing one of her old boyfriends again.”

  Gaby could suddenly feel her heart rate quicken and she could not stop herself from asking, “Was it Clinton Butler?” Meagan surreptitiously glanced at Gaby with disapproval.

  “Yes, it was. Did she tell you?” asked Lilly with mild surprise.

  “No, just a guess,” answered Gaby, with one eye on Meagan for her reaction.

  “I didn’t think she’d told anyone else,” said Lilly.

  “Why was that?” asked Meagan puzzled.

  “Well,” Lilly dragged out the word while she thought for a few seconds, “basically, she bitched so much about Clint when they first split, told everyone he was an ‘’effin so and so’, that she felt a bit weird about tellin’ people they was a number again. Anyways, she said that Clint wanted to keep it quiet as he thought people may interfere — as they do.”

  “So did they get back together?” Gaby was getting impatient.

  “I don’t know exactly. It was just after that I moved to Glasgow to be with my boyfriend.” She took a gulp of her latté and played with her ponytail before adding, “I guess they did. He seemed pretty serious, gave Shell this gorgeous diamond bracelet.” Gaby immediately looked across at Meagan; however, Meagan remained focused on Lilly, her face betraying nothing.

  “When was this?”

  “Must have been ’bout six weeks before Shell left for Japan. I was down from Scotland for the weekend,” she said, diligently answering Meagan’s question. “Why are you so interested anyways?”

  Thinking quickly, Gaby replied, “If only you knew about Clint, no one would have thought to ask him when he last talked to or texted Shelleigh. Presumably, being her boyfriend, Shell would have kept in close touch with him even though she was away. He may have been the last person to hear from her.”

  “Oh my God!” Lilly blanched. “I never thought of tha’. He may have had a vital clue.”

  “Are the Japanese police still actively pursuing this?” asked Meagan, urgently changing the subject.

  “I’m not sure. I know that Dad hired a private detective to go over there and look independently. That was a while back. He got nowhere neither.”

  “Could you give us his name?” asked Gaby forwardly.

  “Yeah, I can find out for you.”

  “Great. You never know; we may be able to tell him something of use.”

  Fortunately, it was not long until Lilly had to return to her duties; she had been extremely helpful, but Gaby and Meagan were wary of revealing any more information.

  “How the hell did he get that bracelet?” It took all of Gaby’s patience to wait until they were out of Starbuck’s to ask the question.

  “Dad never lets anyone near his office, never mind his safe. It’s unbelievable,” agreed Meagan.

  “We must be careful not to underestimate him, Meagan. He apparently has many strings to his heinous bow.” Meagan nodded as they moved through the lunch-hour crowds towards the tube station. “Meagan,” pondered Gaby, “are women so shallow that they melt into a guy’s arms at the sight of a diamond or two?”

  “I don’t think it’s that,” answered Meagan emphatically. “There is something about an old boyfriend getting back in touch … saying he’s missed you … saying he hasn’t moved on; that can’t fail to plump the ego. Plus, Clinton underlines his feelings by giving her this incredible bracelet.”

  “Mmm … then he tells the ex to keep it quiet because it was other people’s interference which caused the break up in the first place.”

  “He obviously keeps tabs on his exes so that he knows when they are single, when they are vulnerable and when he can make his move,” suggested Meagan.

  “It’s also clear where Shell suddenly got the money to go to Japan.”

  “Thank God Lilly remembered the PI; I was beginning to wonder where we were going with this next,” sighed Meagan, relieved.

  “Well, next stop: Chantelle,” stated Gaby as she swiped her Oyster card at the tube turnstile and further conversation between them was delayed so that the sisters could join the human conveyor belt descending underground.

  Gaby drove them up to Loughton in Essex silently. Chantelle, in anticipation of a social style evening, had invited Meagan and Gaby for dinner at her flat. Gaby had loaned Meagan a smart shirt dress in black with a fancy belt; she noted how it looked so much better on Meagan with her more voluptuous figure and African suntanned limbs. Gaby had chosen a coral-pink fitted blouse with a slight sheen to it and a cream tulip skirt. The traffic was heavy, particularly as it was Friday. This was no surprise, however, as the weather was good and it was, after all, the A1. After a frustrating journey made more uncomfortable by the thought of the evening to come, they arrived at Chantelle’s modest apartment block Mulberry Place.

  “My God, it’s great to see you two gals,” enthused Chantelle as she ushered them in. “You know, I didn’t expect to hear from yous again now that Clint and I are broke up.”

  “Never mind him, we are still your friends,” Meagan reassured her with sincerity. Chantelle rushed into the kitchen and began to reach into the fridge, producing a bottle of sparkling wine.

  “I always say that you guys are the smartest people what I know. Most of my mates bein’ glamour models and all, we’re not exactly settin’ MENSA alight are we?” Meagan laughed heartily as Chantelle rabbitted on. “You still look great Meagan; bet your bridesmaid’s dress still fits you. Me, I must have put on weight ’cause the dress is too small. I have this hen night to go to down Brighton, so I dyed the dress black and guess what? It’s now too tight ’round my waist.”

  “You sure it didn’t shrink perhaps?” suggested Meagan helpfully. Gaby remained quiet, silently appalled at the thought of the beautiful bridesmaid’s dress now dyed black. She observed the rapport between Meagan and Chantelle with astonishment; Meagan appeared genuinely relaxed in her company and they laughed together spontaneously. Things were never as free-flowing between her and Meagan. Gaby had to admit to herself that she was slightly jealous; she still found it difficult to relate to Chantelle. Gaby looked about the kitchen and noticed that Chantelle had purchased various pre-packed party foods from ASDA. She decided to busy herself with opening the packaging and placing all the food in the microwave. Feeling quite uncomfortable, it was all she could think of to do while the other two continued their banter. Chantelle poured the wine and, unlike Meagan, was quite happy to allow Gaby the free run of her kitchen. Gaby warmed the samoosas, sausage rolls and quiche and placed the ready-made salad in a serving bowl. Gaby was rather surprised at the flat: it was tastefully decorated in shades of vanilla, cinnamon and white and although it had obviously been furnished on a tight budget, Chantelle had brought it all together rather well. Within the small lounge was a fold-out maple table on which Gaby placed first the disposable tablecloth and then the plates of food.

  They chatted, ate and emptied the wine bottle and Gaby felt herself becoming anxious about when Meagan planned
to introduce the subject of Clinton, which, after all, was the reason for their visit. Meagan had assumed to take the lead in their ‘investigations’ and Gaby had conceded to it; however, it was Gaby who found the ideal opening.

  “So I bet you and Piers are dead happy,” stated Chantelle with a tipsy smile.

  “Well, actually, we’re having a rough patch. Meagan and I will tell you all about it later. What about you and Clint? What happened?” Gaby stole a glance at Meagan, who gave a half smile of approval.

  “Ugh,” grunted Chantelle with disdain, “that is just so over.”

  “Why?” persisted Gaby.

  “We fell out real bad, we did,” answered Chantelle vaguely.

  Gaby was about to enquire further when Meagan interrupted, “We think he’s going to be in touch with you, sometime within the next year. He’ll say he wants to get back together.”

  “Never,” spat out Chantelle, “that’ll never happen, I can tell you.” With barely a pause she continued, gesticulating dramatically with her wine glass, “Not after what he said to me. He called me ‘cheap’ and ‘fake’ and ‘the lowest of the low’. There was more stuff I don’ even remember. We rowed for about an hour then he stormed off.”

  “Bastard,” Gaby found herself saying.

  “Don’t worry, Gabs, I went in heavy; bet he’s still reelin’ from what I told him. It was ugly, I’ll tell you that much.”

  Gaby was amazed at the picture she had in her head of Clinton screaming and shouting like a fishwife; there were even more sides to him she had never known. Chantelle was becoming quite heated and Meagan was the one to calm things down. “Chantelle, listen. We have something very important we want to talk to you about. Gaby found out something about Clinton two weeks or so ago; she flew to Nairobi to tell me. No one else knows, but we need to warn you and we also need your help and so we are bringing you in.”

  Chantelle, looking bewildered, uttered a pouty “Okay”.

  Gaby gave a brief outline of her dreams and the incident at the reunion. Meagan quickly took over, demonstrating by laying the photos out on the table, along with a newspaper article about Shelleigh’s disappearance, an obituary for Melissa and the WGU article on Trina.

  “Oh my God.” It was the umpteenth time Chantelle had said it and for once Gaby could not fault her excessive use of the phrase. “So you think he’s comin’ after me next?” she asked with a scratchy voice, her mouth and throat having gone dry.

  “We can’t be sure who’s next — we don’t even know who all the girls are and which ones are still alive. Sometimes he leaves it many years before he hunts them down, as in Sally’s case. The more we can find out, the closer we are to stopping this. As long as you know not to get back with him, you should be safe, but we’re certainly striving to put a stop to him before then,” said Meagan reassuringly.

  “Thanks, Gabs,” said Chantelle as Gaby placed a sweet cup of coffee in front of each of them. “Girl Number Five is definitely Trina,” said Chantelle, suddenly pointing with a trembling finger to the photographs. “You can tell by the shape of her jaw and eyebrows; they’re very distinctive.” Chantelle took a swig of coffee then shook her head frowning. “I just can’t believe this. Nothin’ like this has ever happened to me. To think how much I loved this guy! I would have got back with him in a second if I’m honest. I was attracted to a monster.”

  “On the bright side, at least you don’t share his gene pool,” retorted Gaby ironically.

  “C’mon you two. The important thing is that we have the chance to do something about this. Chantelle, do you know who Clint was dating before you by any chance?” asked Meagan in an attempt to keep things on track.

  “Yeah, I do actually,” said Chantelle, perking up. “Her name’s Katerina Mulbauer. I was workin’ at a cocktail bar – corny I know - in Leicester Square when I met Clint. He used to come in with her quite often. All the girls wha’ worked there knew Katerina ’cause there was a rumour she worked for Models 1. We all kinda hoped she’d discover us like and we would rush around when she came in to impress her. Well, Katerina never noticed me, but Clint did. He asked one of the other girls for my number and got in touch.”

  “Did he even mention why he broke up with her?” ventured Gaby.

  “Said she was too controlling, which made sense to me ’cause she always looked so uptight. Anyways, I don’t see her photo here,” remarked Chantelle.

  “This is good. You know where she worked, so we can try and track her down.” Meagan sounded optimistic.

  “One of my friends is with Models 1. I’ll ask her if Katerina is still there.”

  Gaby felt totally drained and even the caffeine in the two generous scoops of instant she had dumped in each of their mugs was having little effect. She looked in her handbag in a vain effort to locate some stray paracetamol. Meagan was at the table analysing the photographs again, searching her memory banks for a name or some detail which could spark a new lead. Chantelle was busy scanning through the memory of her mobile for the number of her friend at Models 1 so that she could send a text enquiring about Katerina. Chantelle had calmed down; in a similar way to both Gaby and Meagan, the initial shock had soon given way to a determination and urgency for action. Gaby kicked off her pink sandals, plumped up one of the brown cushions, placed it under her head and lay down on Chantelle’s rather boxy but adequate Ikea couch. Gaby would not have dared do the same at Meagan’s; however, Chantelle was pleasantly laid-back.

  “I was just thinkin’,” began Chantelle, breaking the silence, “you say he gave Shelleigh a diamond bracelet, the same one Gabs was plannin’ on wearin’ for her weddin’.” They nodded. “Well, I can remember that day clearly and I remember your dad coming in and saying that it weren’t in the box or som’ing. I just remember thinkin’ to myself that he didn’t look that bothered. If it were me like, I’d be really panickin’. Then I thought to myself: is this family so bloody rich that if a diamond bracelet disappears, they just laugh it off?”

  “She’s right, Gaby, Dad wasn’t that concerned.”

  “I was so stressed out at that point and Carmella was faffing with my hair … I can only remember feeling very disappointed.”

  “He gave some explanation that he must have moved it to his other safe with the other family jewellery,” recalled Meagan.

  “What other safe is he talking about? It would only ever have been in the safe in his office at home. He would hardly take it and put it in the safe in his London chambers.”

  “Exactly,” agreed Meagan.

  “Excuse me for butting in,” interjected Chantelle. “Seems to me that your dad already knew it were missin’. If he was genuinely shocked, why make that excuse about the other safe. As I say, he didn’t seem that worried.”

  “She’s right. Maybe he had known for some time that it was missing,” pondered Gaby.

  “You know how vigilant he is with his safe, Gaby. Always keeps it locked — no one is even allowed in that office. Even if the bracelet had disappeared some time earlier, there would have been major fireworks. He would have called the police immediately.”

  “So what are we thinking then?” challenged Gaby. “That he knows Clint has it?”

  “Not sure …” pondered Meagan, trailing off. “And how did Clint get it?”

  “It’s gettin’ late, guys, why don’ you both crash here? I really don’t want to be alone tonight.” Chantelle was pleading. Gaby’s heart sank. She longed for a hot shower, her comforting pyjamas and the sanctuary of her own bed. Meagan, however, was game and Gaby could hardly refuse: of course Chantelle was scared and did not want to be alone; Gaby did not blame her. Chantelle seemed well prepared for overnight guests: she had two inflatable beds, spare toothbrushes and was able to lend her visitors nightshirts to sleep in.

  “You have some amazing products,” commented Gaby with astonishment. “You should see Chantelle’s bathroom, Meagan, everything from Molton Brown to Philosophy to Elemis.”

  “Forgive me for not sh
aring your enthusiasm for cosmetics right now,” said Meagan.

  “It’s the distractions of everyday things that are keeping me sane right now,” countered Gaby.

  “When I do modellin’ work, I get a lot of samples. Use what you want,” she offered generously.

  Gaby was surprisingly impressed with the inflatable bed, which was rather soft and inviting. Before lying down, she sat on the bed, zipped open her bag and took a brief look at her mobile.

  “Piers still not called?” asked Meagan sympathetically.

  “No, and I prefer it that way,” answered Gaby firmly. “I need my space right now.”

  “So what’s goin’ on with Piers then?” asked Chantelle as she lay down and pulled her duvet over her.

  “This whole thing has driven us apart,” started Gaby. “I have not told him a thing. I just don’t feel like I can. He can’t tolerate not being privy to everything that goes on in my life, so he has gone off to stay with his brother or something.”

  “I think you should text him, Gaby,” advised Meagan. “Don’t let the communication break down totally.” Gaby remained silent; she had no will to text Piers. “Listen, Gaby, this is just a bad patch. What relationship could stand up to this — especially a new marriage. You and Piers are right for each other; I believe it strongly. Don’t give up on him. You’ll work this out.”

  “I agree, Gabs. Not that I know Piers that well, but I always had a good feeling ’bout you two and I’ve seen loads of relationships come and go, believe me,” added Chantelle encouragingly.

  “Okay, advice appreciated. But I can’t text him now. It’s too late and he’ll be even more pissed off with me if I do.”