by R. S. Higham
23
James stepped out of the steamy bathroom and was hit by a chill in the living room. He hopped, still dripping wet, over to the thermostat and turned it right up then sat on the couch wrapped up in three towels. For a good five minutes he sat doing nothing but keeping warm, dozing a little as his strawberry shower gel sweetly caressed his nostrils. He was in heaven. But as the towels started to get damp and heavy he slowly made his way into his bedroom. He laid his clothes out on the bed to minimise the time spent naked in the cold and counted down from three. He dropped the towels and grabbed his underpants, then his pants, then his top. Still not enough. He took his dressing gown off from the hook behind the door and threw it round him. He pulled out his laptop and sat on the couch with it resting on the arm. As it started up he put the kettle on and popped a fruit tea bag into his Superman mug. It was almost a race to see who would be first; the kettle or the computer. It was the computer. But he waited for the kettle nevertheless. With his tea in hand he slid back in front of his laptop and clicked on Word. Up came his story about a hillbilly looking for revenge which Audrey hated, he considered adding more to it. He considered deleting it. Eventually he left it. Maybe one day he’d try and make something of it, only a few weeks ago he would have thought he could do better but now he wasn’t so sure. He hadn’t lost his confidence he just knew that writing wasn’t the be all and end all. He’d witnessed a murder first hand and had almost been jailed for it. This sort of forced him to revaluate his life a little, there were much worse fates than writer’s block. He was healthy and alive and that was more important than anything. But there was still the matter of Stacey. How he would get rid of him was something he hadn’t figured out yet but he’d try to put that to the back of his mind for now. After drinking his tea and checking his emails he plugged in his phone that was now completely dead. At 1% he thought of Stacey and it made him wince but not as much as when he found no returned message from Kate. His stomach dropped. He tried to reassure himself that everything was OK but he wasn’t so sure. It was about time he went to Red’s to tell her the good news and to check she was alright. Seeing her would make everything better and they could try and take Stacey down together. He changed into thicker, warmer clothing and pulled on his coat turning the thermostat down before he left so to not run up the gas bill.
24
Mike Sullivan was given the unenviable duty of delivering the bad news to William Red. It was something he’d done once before and he prayed every night since he wouldn’t have to do it again but here he was in that same position. As they were treating Kate’s death as suspicious Mike was assigned the case. At least this time he was speaking to just one grown man who wasn’t even a relative of hers rather than a family with two small children. That had been difficult. But now it was time to re-bury that and focus on the present. His watch read 2:50, it was earlier than he thought it would be considering the body was found only eight hours ago. A fellow officer came over to him and handed him a brown file. He flicked it open and was met with a grizzly face or lack of to be exact of a young girl. Her blonde hair strewn around her shoulders doused in blood. It took him a second or two to compose himself, he had seen worse but something about the way she was lay was like she was still alive. Her body was animated and natural. And her bony shoulders and salt-cellar collarbones touched his heart and made it wrench, she was very childlike. He took a deep breath and flipped through the rest but none were as powerful as the first. There was little evidence at the crime scene other than puddles of blood and a fraction of a boot mark that was too faint to make a print of or find a match. But there was one interesting thing that Mike had stumbled upon when searching through her previous offences and dealings with the police. She had phoned them on numerous occasions with domestic complaints. An abusive boyfriend. The last called was made over a year ago which meant he may be long gone by now, but it was a very good start.
“I bet you did this, you bastard.” Mike muttered. He didn’t know who he was talking to but he would soon enough. The man’s name was Emanuel Valentine and he lived at an apartment block on Carter Road. Mike considered asking another officer to go and bring him to the station but he wanted to do that himself. He was pretty certain this was the guy responsible for killing her. Not just killing her but mutating her, beating her until she had no identity. He wanted to be the first to see him. But before that he would inform Mr Red and have him confirm it was her; it was clear he was putting it off. He checked his watch again, 2:58. He sighed and stood up, taking his coat off the back of his chair and slipping his arms into it. It was thick and heavy and black with grey specs. His old coat had been adopted by his ex-wife when he moved out although it would have probably made its way into a charity shop by now, this one he bought four years ago brand new for $70 but had only this year found it still in its plastic wrapper at the back of his wardrobe. He didn’t look much like a police man wearing it but he didn’t care in this weather. There were a few small flakes of snow falling but it wouldn’t last long, the coat was waterproof anyway, it was the cold that was the killer, he didn’t think he could manage much more time on the streets, he preferred working in the office in the winter months but then again so does everyone and he couldn’t complain, at least he wasn’t working nights. Mike had only two hours left before the end of his shift, he started at ten which was heaven but hated driving home in the dark. Maybe he could get off early if he told the chief he’d work on it at home, or if he slipped off after visiting William Red. The snow was coming to an end now; it had barely made a mark on the ground but it would most likely start up again later. And almost definitely come down heavy through the night. That’s what the weather forecast said anyway, Mike always checked it on his phone.
He sat in the police car and switched on the engine letting it heat up before driving to the bar, it was only down the road but he didn’t think he’d be long and then he’d have to drive home. Mike started down the road and by the time he’d finished fiddling with the radio he had driven past the bar. He soon realised and made a U-turn then pulled into the small car park next to. It was undoubtedly Red’s bar; the tacky sign sort of gave it away, he felt a little dumb for passing it. As he stepped inside the sweaty heat washed over him and he instantly took off his coat. He held his hat under his arm and asked the bartender if he could speak to Mr Red.
“That’s me. Is something wrong?” The man answered.
“I…” He stopped. His mind flashed back to that day, that family, that boy who cried hugging his Father’s picture. Mike took a deep breath. “I’m afraid there’s been a murder. Kate Silver is one of your employees, is that right?”
“Yes, that’s right. Has something happened to her?”
“A body has been found. We’re certain it’s Kate’s. I’m so sorry.”
“What? How? We only spoke last night. You can’t be sure. Oh God no. It can’t be. Are you sure it’s her? Are you positive?” Red wiped his face with his hand. Mike’s throat went dry.
“Do you know of any relatives she has? Any family at all?”
Red thought for a moment and opened his mouth to speak but decided to shut it again. “No. No family.” He put his face in his hand again and started to sob. “Only that bastard boyfriend of hers! Did he have something to do with it? Did he murder her?” His face was pulsing red. Mike tried in vain to calm him down but he was too hysterical, his eyes were streaming with tears and the few people in the bar were staring at them in silence. Mike asked if there was any where private they could talk but he figured it was too late now. He should have suggested that in the first place. Red was supporting his shaking body on the bar whilst Mike stood stiffly and on edge. He hated this part of his job. The seconds were crawling by like hours when the door flung open and a huge whoosh of night air cooled Mike’s hot face.
25
James opened the door into Red’s Tavern. He’d done it regularly these last few weeks and each time had been the same, except of course the time he was meeting
Stacey. That had been different. That had been scary. Nothing much had been the same since Stacey entered his life. But he hadn’t called or text or showed up uninvited at his door step all day today, most likely because he knew he’d been thrown into the local jail for crimes he had committed. But James was glad of it. At first he paused thinking he might be in here but that would be stupid and Stacey wasn’t stupid no matter how much he made himself out to be. Stupid people you can trust not to outsmart you and Stacey had outsmarted him big time. The police don’t know who he is and can’t find him even though he’s right under their noses, if only he could drag him into the station, but he’d probably have a convincing story and – “and besides” – He thought, then stopped as another thought forced it’s way in. “What if he doesn’t know I’m out of jail? What if he thinks I’m still locked up, or have been charged and will be locked up for the rest of my life?” This could give him an advantage, the element of surprise. He needed to be careful this time, make sure he planned everything out and made all the right moves. After a brief moments thought he pushed the door open again and stepped in. That same smell came to greet him, the dim lighting he’d grown used to flickered to reveal the blood red chairs and mahogany tables. Wider he opened it until he saw the bar and –
“Red?” hunched over the bar with his head buried in his hands. A police officer stood next to him but was looking at James. “What’s going on?”
The officer came over to him and pulled him aside.
“Do you two know each other?” He asked.
“Yeah, sort of. What’s happened?”
“There’s been a murder.” He answered. James heart fluttered. He knew instantly who it was. He felt faint. The room started to spin. He shook himself out of it. “It might not be. It might not be her.” He said to himself.
“Who?” He croaked not much louder than a whisper.
“Pardon?” the man asked.
“Who!?” He shouted, his voice breaking and hoarse.
“A waitress, Kate Silver.”
There it was. It was like a dream. The words hung on his ears. He couldn’t believe it. His body was in shock. At first it didn’t register, surely there was a mistake. He had only spoken to her yesterday how could she be dead?
“She was murdered?” James managed to ask although it took him all his strength to speak.
“She was found dead this morning. Did you know her?” He asked.
“Yes.”
“A friend?”
“Yes.” James was lost in his thoughts, desperately trying to piece it all together but nothing was making sense. He thought they must have the wrong person; it was just someone who looked like Kate. But she hadn’t called and he couldn’t get through to her, in the pit of his stomach he knew they were right. “But who could have killed her?” Then it struck him.
“Manny.” He muttered.
“I’m sorry?” Mike asked.
“Manny… her boyfriend. She has a boyfriend called Manny. I think he lives… somewhere around here for sure…”
“Can you tell me anything about him?”
“I can tell you he killed her.”
“We have had complaints about him and his behaviour but we can’t possibly know that for certa–.”
“And you didn’t arrest him or do anything!? She is dead now because of him!”
“We don’t know that for certain…”
“Then who? Tell me who else is a suspect?”
“Please.” Mike cleared his throat; he was beginning to sweat. “I’m on your side. I want to help.”
“You didn’t know her. I did. She was trying to help me, she didn’t need to get involved but she did, to help me.”
“What are you talking about?”
James was silent.
“James?”
“Leave the lad alone!” Red shouted as he lifted his face off of the bar. Tears stained his blotchy skin.
Mike looked awkward and James felt a little sorry despite the grief he was feeling.
“When you came to my apartment to talk to me about that man who was murdered…” He began. Mike turned his attention back to him with a sort of ‘I didn’t want to bring that up but I’m glad you did’ look as though it had been nagging at him since he walked in. “I told you about Stacey, didn’t I? He was the man who killed that man. Kate was helping me track him down. That was the last time we spoke, when I phoned her and asked her to find out everything she could about him. I don’t know if she did because… she never got back to me. I was worried and… I guess I was right to be.” The grief was sidelined by his anger and so far he was holding up pretty well, he knew that. He also knew if he stopped talking he might just crumble to pieces. But he wanted to be as of much help as possible, he would have time to grieve afterwards. For now he would focus on Manny only. He was certain it was him; he might have seen him and Kate together earlier on and snapped. He obviously wasn’t a stranger to domestic violence.
“Please. Just find out what happened. I need to know what happened to her.” He suddenly felt sick to his stomach. The bar became an oven and he felt like he was going to faint, he stumbled out into the rain and leant against the wall, blood rushing around his head making his eyes dizzy. The door next to him swung open and a beam of light shone out of it. Red stepped out into the rain. It cooled his aching face.
“Will you come to the morgue with me?” He asked, forcing his shaking voice to brace.
James stared at him blankly.
“Come to the morgue with me, please.”
James searched his mind for an excuse but couldn’t bring himself to say it, instead he found himself agreeing.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Red took James’s hand in his and held it until Mike joined them.
“Are you coming with us?”
“Yes.”
“Alright, the car’s just around here.” Red took the front passenger seat and James sat in the back, none of them spoke, the only sound was the static on the radio. The drive took less than ten minutes, from James’s view everything was pitch black, he just glared at his own reflection not expecting them to arrive so quickly, he’d been losing his nerve more and more as the minutes passed. The rain was still going strong, neither of the men seemed to notice even as their bodies started to feel the wetness. Mike showed his badge at reception and one of the nurses came down with them in the lift. When they reached the basement he asked for the key and if she would leave them to it, she did and once the sound of the elevator rising back to the ground floor died down they were left in eerie silence.
Red and James were stood by the door leading to the fridges waiting for Mike to come and unlock it, both of them had a faint look of hope that the body wouldn’t be hers but Mike had seen this too many times to feel the same way.
“Are you ready?” He asked, they both nodded. He turned the key and the door creaked open, a strong smell of cleaning fluids hit them all in turn.
“The nurse told me she was in number 7 and that it unlocks with this key.” He found it on the keychain and slotted it in. He opened the small, square door and pulled out the cold slab that she lay on. “No ones to touch her but me.” He said as he put on two thin rubber gloves. She was covered head to toe in a white sheet and James couldn’t help but be reminded of something he had written about in his stories, and now he was here like his characters before him he subconsciously scanned everything to see if he had been close to the mark when he described it in his books. He quickly snapped his attention back to the corpse. Mike looked at them both for reassurance that it was OK to pull the sheet back now, they were both staring down at her. He slid it downwards off her face keeping her chest covered, but her naked breasts would be rather overshadowed the mask of bloodied tissue and bone that greeted them. James reeled backwards, a wave of guilt quickly penetrating him and he righted himself as fast as he could.
Red choked on a chesty, spluttering cough and clutched his handkerchief to his mouth. “Bloody Jesus, Mary for the lo
ve of God!”
James’s eyes were fixed on the great black hole in the centre of her face, like it was sucking him into it. He shut his eyes tight and pulled away. “Can I have five minutes?” He stuttered. Mike opened the door leading into the pathologist’s office not knowing if it was allowed and not really caring. James sat in his chair, a big leather thing on wheels. He felt like he was about to vomit. How could he identify her with half her face missing? The thought made him gag, he pushed it out of his mind. As the wave of nausea passed he stood and walked around the room, it was dark and after several attempts to find the light switch he gave up. The light from the other room shone through the glass pane in the door and illuminated the computer, a few sheets of paperwork were strewn over the keyboard. He picked them up and thumbed through, it wasn’t exactly pleasant, he shuddered at every word, but it was better than facing what was in the other room. He glanced up and through the window. Mike and Red were still in there, standing motionless beside her. “I should be in there with them,” but he couldn’t. He’d never seen a dead body before; he’d written about it a lot but never stared it in the face. He turned his attention back to the papers when his reflection in the dark window opposite caught his eye. He cracked his head up; it was too dark to see anything inside except the outline of a few tables. He went over to the glass and peered in but all that he could see was a room like the one Kate was in. His eyes adjusted a bit, the room was exactly the same as the one Kate was in, except there were no lights on and no one stood about her. It was how the room would look once they were gone.