by A. M. Clarke
Rudder was already there when he arrived, his finger held firm on the doorbell. The guy obviously hasn’t a clue!
‘You won’t get an answer, you know’. Rudder turned his face already red with impatience and temper.
‘Let me guess, too ashamed to show their faces after causing a scene’.
‘Not exactly, their dead. I’m Stephen Powers; we spoke a few minutes ago.’ Rudder took a second or two, before the penny dropped. ‘So this isn’t a simple domestic that the neighbours reported?’ Stephen shook his head,
‘I really wish that was the case, but it appears Gladys, (the wife) killed Jim, (the husband) before committing suicide. Come on inside and Ill walk you through what we think happened.’
Stephen described in heart wrenching detail everything that he had seen and his and the Docs presumption of what had occurred. Inspector Rudder apologised for his lack of knowledge and explained the very short and inaccurate call he received as a domestic incident. He also informed Stephen about the road accident, which left the bus full of old people and Wallis dead. Stephen couldn’t believe yet another spate of deaths had taken place. So much so, he confided in Rudder, his friend’s belief that something menacing was happening on the Island. To his absolute disgust, Stephen was quietly beginning to understand Mike’s paranoia, and the inspector didn’t give any indication one way or the other what he thought. They finished up and went on to the funeral home, Rudder hoping that all bodies had been delivered and identified, and Stephen desperately hoping that he wouldn’t have to go in there again.
Chapter Thirty Six
Vera’s day went from bad to worse, if that was possible. The phone calls to the families were a nightmare. The first couple were bad enough, trying to explain how their relatives had suddenly developed working limbs, and why they were allowed to travel unaccompanied to the mainland. She was desperate and unfortunately unbelievable in her account of events. After that, word had spread from one family member to another and several lawsuits were pending. Her position in the home, and the rest of the staffs, were as good as terminated. After all, who was there to look after, and who in their right mind would inter a beloved family member there after recent events. In all that wasn’t bad enough, she had to go to the undertakers to identify her residents. She may have moaned and complained about them, but they were all like family, and decent people who deserved a better end than what they got.
Sitting in her car was a reprieve from the earlier ghastliness, but also a preliminary to the next act. The bodies she normally identified had usually passed peacefully on in their sleep, but this was abhorrent to her, mangled and twisted remains of former friends if you like.
While waiting, she saw Stephen Powers and a stranger entering Fox’s. Feeling relieved to have other people there; she mustered the courage to enter herself.
Vera was welcomed by Mr Fox, a very well dressed and articulate man. Not bad looking either, wonder if he’s seeing anyone? He introduced her as Ms Lake to the two men, to Mr Powers, who had found Gladys and Jim Carters bodies, and Inspector Rudder, over from the big smoke to investigate the deaths of Gladys and Jim. Stephen, she had met before, and liked, but Rudder seemed cold and hard.
The smell of fresh flowers was disturbing in such an environment, and didn’t help her antipathy of the situation. They were led to a large room, normally reserved for large funeral floral displays, but under the current circumstances, it had been transformed into a makeshift cold room for the deceased. She was led from body to body, each more bloody, damaged and mangled. Fortunately, she was able to name each one, luckily and ironically, all had remained facially intact.
. . . . .
Ok, awful job done, time to get back to, what, oh yea, nothing. Oh shit, more bodies needing to be identified. Thought they were all hers, except of course the other driver. Seems the Inspector knew the other driver, and was there to investigate the burned couple in the cooler. She held back, not needing the aroma or the visual of those poor buggers. She hadn’t anticipated all the extra occupants, and as she waited, grew more and more certain of her belief that Adam Gardener was behind her residents deaths, and being there with the other unfortunates, knew in her deepest being that he was responsible for them too.
Calling Stephen and Inspector Rudder to one side, she told them of her encounter with Adam, and her suspicions. She expected derision, and she got it. Knowing her theory was ridiculous to say the least; Vera stood by her belief that Adam was the evil behind her resident’s deaths, and could be responsible for all the other bizarrely coincidental deaths that had happened in the last couple of days. Explaining her last talk with him and his response to her question of why, she actually saw a flicker of something, maybe not belief, but something. The men looked at each other in that unspoken male way, before returning their attention to her.
‘So Ms Lake, your saying this Adam character was with you at the time of the crash?’
‘Yes, but-----’
‘And he didn’t know the residents had left on the bus, for the mainland?’
‘No but------’
‘Then how, Ms Lake, could he possibly be responsible for what happened, maybe he rebuffed you, and you’re striking out in petty spite?’
‘You son of a bitch, for your information, we had already had sex the night before, and he came by too see Me. But I don’t care what you think, you small minded moron, I know he killed my residents, and he probably killed the rest of the people in here too.’
Vera left humiliated but unburdened at being truthful, silly at being honest, and relieved at leaving that awful place. Face burning in shame, having nothing to go back to work for, and having sent everyone home earlier, bath and bed beckoned like nectar to a butterfly. The very idea of lying, submerged from the horrors of life and softened to the hard corners of reality, hurried her to a welcoming refuge, Home.
Mellow, cleansed and squiffy, Vera sank into a soft haven of downy feathers and cosiness. She thought sleep would elude her, but within seconds, the sandman and the dream world had reclaimed her.
Chapter Thirty Seven
The fire dwindled, as page after page turned on the history of a woman unknown to Vera, developed. Life was dramatic and exciting for her, the complete opposite to Vera’s, who only knew a sedentary and a banal existence. The strange woman continued to describe how she and the handsome man had travelled the world and conquered its various corners. Distinguished and well to do company had welcomed and insisted on having them in their society of the upper class establishment. They still hadn’t exchanged names and Vera wondered who the strange lady and her handsome companion were. Could they be Hollywood stars, that she didn’t recognise, or some type of royalty, that remained undercover in those days? Not like now, when they couldn’t sneeze but it was publicised. On impulse, Vera asked if she could use the powder room, and getting reluctant directions, headed back up the hall toward where she had entered. It was even dimmer than she remembered doors still closed and unwelcoming. Light invaded the dark hall as a door swung open. Her breath caught, as the handsome man from the photographs walked out and stopped when he say her.
‘What are you doing out in the hall, come in, come in. Sit, sit, and tell me.’ Vera, as if hypnotised, glided in behind him, scared and uneasy, but powerless to turn and run.
‘I didn’t realise anyone else was home. I’ve been talking with-----what the hell are you doing here?’
‘Of course you two have met, Adam, aren’t you going to welcome our house guest?’ Vera’s legs almost gave way under the enormity of what she was experiencing. Was this a dream, or was it reality, or worse, was she going mad? How could Adam be here? She knew it was a continuation of her previous dream, and Adam was playing a large part in her conscious state, which had manifested in her unconscious. That made her feel better, it was her silly mind playing tricks on her.
‘Adam, I’m surprised to see you here, and I must say, I am very disappointed that m
y subconscious hasn’t kicked your ass back to whatever rock you slithered out from under.’
‘Vera, Vera, Vera, after your pathetic, desperate attempts to seduce me, how can you be so cold. Did you really think I was interested in your dried up, middle aged, carcass? Good sense should have told you, handsome men like me have an agenda, and having sex with you was part of mine.’ Her stomach heaved at the thought of how depraved she had allowed herself to be. How right he was, she had been pathetic, and so desperate for any kind of attention, that she sought defilement. She bloody well knew that a man like him wouldn’t and should not be interested in the likes of her. Mothers clichés came back to haunt her, “You can stack the deck, but only if you have a good hand to start with”. Vera had years of “Ill call you” and, “I must be going, early start in the morning” Humiliation straightened her backbone and with it, diminished her shame.
‘I’m bewildered to say the least. I usually don’t bother with pretty boys, intelligence is always below par, and you didn’t disappoint. You provided what I needed, and I thank you for your participation in my relief. Now if you don’t mind, I have a home to return to. Goodbye Adam or whoever you are.’
Bolstered by her renewed confidence, Vera opened the door to the dark and dismal hallway, and left. It was even scarier leaving. Were there questions that should have been answered, should she have demanded answers?
Waking from a bad dream usually meant a cold sweat and mild palpitations. This was completely different, the cold sweat was a small river running down her cleavage, and the usual benign butterflies in her stomach had turned evil, churning sweetness into bile. A panic attack was beginning to overwhelm her, and she mustered herself awake with the thought of, “its over, it’s just a dream”.
Adjusting herself to the dim light, she realised she was safe and comfortable in her bedroom. The night demons had retreated and left her undamaged and unhurt. The glow from her digital clock declared 3am, and her heartbeat returned to normal. The weight at the bottom of her bed as she pulled the duvet up sent her heart back into a state of panic. Her breathing quickened and the cold sweat started to cover her body again.
‘Hello Vera, were you having a bad dream? What’s wrong, cat got your tongue?’ Her heart was beating so fast, she thought it would fly out of her chest.
‘How did you get in here? Get out, get out now.’
‘Oh Vera, you really shouldn’t keep your key in such an obvious place, and you most definitely shouldn’t use it when someone is watching you. I’m only here for a friendly visit, no need to get excited, again.’ Her fingers found the lamp switch on the bedside table; she already knew what she would see. It illuminated Adam sitting at the bottom of her bed. He sat there as if it was the most natural thing; his legs crossed casually, flecks of gold from his hair shone under the muted light. Adam managed to appear relaxed and menacing at the same time.
‘So you followed me, I thought something evil was lurking in the shadows. ‘Adam laughed, enjoying her discomfort, and her attempt at nonchalance.
‘Are you going to kill me, like all the others, she asked.
She knew she was in trouble; he didn’t break in to relive their earlier passion. This man, this monster was there to kill her, of that, she was certain.
‘Why would I want to kill you, we had such a lovely time together.’
‘But you’re not denying that you did kill all those people, she demanded as she sat up straighter in her bed, ‘and I’m guessing you didn’t choose our island as your first killing ground.’
‘That’s true Vera, I did kill those people and yes this is not my first time, why, does it bother you?’ Adam asked with a devious glint in his eye.
‘May God forgive you for what you’ve done?’
Adam laughed again, but with a sneer. ‘Contrary to what the good old bible says, god isn’t big on forgiveness. If he couldn’t forgive me for a small indiscretion, then I don’t think he’s going to forgive me for anything else.’
She could see a madness in his eyes, that hadn’t been there before, and
Realising she had nothing to lose, threw back the covers and ran for the door and out on to the landing. A smell hit her, even in her panicked state; her brain asked the question, where the hell is that coming from? Running past her mum’s old room made emotion catch in the back of her throat and squeeze her heart. At the top of the stairs, she turned her head and looked behind, he wasn’t there. Maybe he was letting her go. The scent suddenly became stronger and overpowering.
‘Going somewhere Vera? A woman attached to the voice and the cause of the perfume assault, stepped out of the shadows, and with one mighty push, sent Vera tumbling down the stairs. Time seemed to slow, every millisecond lasting forever, until she heard the snap of bone. The sound hit her senses before the pain screamed from her leg. That certainly sped things up, and trying to manoeuvre her body to protect the leg, changed her trajectory. Pitching sideways on the second to last step, her head caught and wedged in the wooden banisters. The momentum carried her body down the last step, while her head remained behind.
Chapter Thirty Eight
Ringing the station, Rudder let rip at the desk sergeant, ranted about the getting the wrong information, and how he looked like an incompetent greenhorn. The coroner and van would be over on the morning ferry, and they were sending another sergeant to assist him. Booking into the hotel, he decided on a walk through the town. Charming, he thought, but a bit claustrophobic. Everyone probably knew everybody else’s business. A woman’s loud voice intruded on his thoughts, and following the sound, spotted her banging on a green front door.
‘Mrs Woodcock, please answer the door, I’m worried about the girls. Clara, Laurie, can you come to the door, Mrs Woodcock, please.’ Rudder crossed the road, introduced himself as police, and before he could ask what the problem was, the woman grabbed him by the arm and pushed him towards the door, demanding he do something.
‘There’s something wrong, I just know it. Mrs Woodcock never takes the girls out of school without notifying us. I’m Clara’s teacher, and her and her little sister, Laurie have been missing for two days. Cant you break in or something?’ Seeing the obvious distress on her face, made his mind up.
‘Do you smell gas?’ and rammed his shoulder into the door. It splintered at the jam and exploded inwards. Voices directed them to the sitting room, only to find the television on.’ Maybe you should wait here, while I check the rest of the house,’ and went back out of the room. He tried the kitchen first; dishes had been washed and left to drain, but nothing out of the ordinary. ’Nothing here, just going upstairs.’ The first room was a typical little girls, and that little girl was in her bed. The pink duvet cover neat and tucked under her chin, she was beautiful and peaceful, and very dead. The pillow that he assumed had smothered her was on the floor. The other two bedrooms yielded nothing, even though he had expected to find the other girl dead in her bed, and the mother having committed suicide, dead in hers. Retracing his steps, the only place left to check was the back garden, or yard. The back door led into a utility room, not a garden. Everything looked normal, until the light blinking on the washing machine caught his attention. Who would do a load of washing, before or after murdering their child? Opening the machine door answered his question. A small red sleeve with white stripes fell out, and a little hand was still inside it. He stumbled back and hit the door closed, before sliding to the ground. His eye line now level with the inside of the machine, showed a face looking back at him. Her eyes staring, lifeless, cooked in their sockets, the skin on her face, red and blistered. He had seen many dead bodies over the years, but this was the worst. Tears welled as he tried to comprehend how a mother could kill her two beautiful children. A voice called from outside. He screamed at her, not to come in. He pulled himself together and went out to her, making sure to close the door behind. Sitting the teacher at the kitchen table, Rudder told her what he had found. And when she calmed down enough to answer so
me questions, told him what she knew about the Woodcock family. A normal loving family, devastated by the husband’s death and then Lucy Woodcock diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. The girls were well adjusted and happy and there was never a hint of anything untoward. He urged her to go home and have a stiff drink, and told her he would be in touch.
Chapter Thirty Nine
Stephen was trying to decide whether to have another for the road, or go home and liberate Mike from Chequer’s clutches.
He smelt her before he even knew she had entered. Looking up to see who was responsible for the intoxicating scent that had invaded his senses, his eyes locked on the cause. This must be the infamous Evelyn that Mike was trying to deter, if not altogether wholeheartedly. One glance at her and he could understand why. She was exquisite to look at, and as he stared, she turned her gaze on him. Stephen inhaled deeply as the lovely creature approached. 'Be strong, be resolute, be stone,' he muttered to himself.
‘You must be Stephen. Father Mike has told me so much about you. Hi, I’m Evelyn.’
‘Its good to meet you Evelyn, Mike has told me about you too, but I hadn’t realised he had talked about me to you.’
‘Oh yes, he has spoken very highly of you, what a good friend you have been and a strong guidance in his life since meeting you. In fact Stephen, I’ve become quite jealous of you.’
Stephen was surprised by her remarks, she gave the impression of a normal person, and Mike hadn’t given any indication that he had ever mentioned Stephen. But how else would she know so much. Maybe good old Father Mike had been a bit economical with the truth, and the truth was that Mike had been bouncing off the walls lately. Could it be that he had manufactured the whole seduction thing, in the need to feel desirable. A man is a man after all, and every man regardless of his situation, wants to be wanted.