Embellished Deception: A Psychological Suspense Novel (The Crime Files)

by Netta Newbound

  "I'm just checking how you are. I miss you."

  My heart contracted, followed by a wave of anger. "Oh, I'm wonderful, thank you. How do you fucking expect?"

  “Geri!” Mum hissed.

  "I wondered if we could meet up? We have things to discuss."

  "No, Simon, we can't meet up. There's nothing more to say."

  Mum stood in the doorway, scowling at me. I swiped my hand in front of her and turned my back.

  "Come on, Geri, let's be adult about this. We have heaps to talk about and I need to see you."

  "Forget it," I snapped. "It's not going to happen, just leave me alone." I hung up.

  "Geraldine!" Mum shrieked. "What the bloody hell has got into you? Call him back and talk to the poor boy—right now!"

  "Poor boy! Poor boy! Oh, I suppose you think it’s all my fault, don’t you? It couldn’t possibly be Simon’s fault. He never could do anything wrong in your eyes could he, Mother?”

  I picked up my shopping bag and charged up to my bedroom. I was already eating my second bar of chocolate when Mum tapped at the door.

  "Go away!"

  She took no notice and came in anyway. "I'm sorry, love, I don't blame you. I don't blame anybody. How can I when I don't even know what's happened? Please tell me. I may be able to help."

  "There's nothing anybody can do to make this right, and honestly, Mum, believe me—you really don't want to know."

  She stood by the door, saying nothing, for a few minutes. I glanced over my shoulder thinking she’d gone. "What now, Mum? Say something for God's sake. You're freaking me out."

  "Oh well, if you don't want to talk, we may as well get ready or else we'll be late."

  "Late for what?"

  "Bingo. You know I always go to bingo on Friday nights and have fish and chips on the way home."

  I couldn't believe it was Friday already. Simon and I had been planning to go to the movies tonight. I wondered if he'd still go without me.

  "I think I'll just stay home if you don't mind. I'm not in the mood to go out, and I'm sure you'll enjoy yourself much more without me moping around."

  "Nonsense. It'll be like old times and besides, Beryl would love to see you. She asks about you all the time."

  "Oh, okay then." I shrugged. She was right, it would do me good. And what was the point in staying home feeling sorry for myself anyway? I might even win some money with a bit of luck.

  I hadn't thought about how I would pay my way now that I was single with no job and zero prospects.

  ***

  "Full house!" Beryl stood up waving her card in the air. Her huge bosoms bounced up and down obscenely.

  A deep, steady grumble rippled through the hall as she waited for an assistant to check her numbers.

  Mum nudged me in the ribs and was beaming from ear to ear. "We always share our winnings. That'll pay for the fish and chips," she whispered.

  Her mood was infectious and, before long, I began to really enjoy myself.

  When we left the bingo hall, Beryl suggested we go to the pub for a bar meal instead. I didn't fancy it, certain I would see somebody I knew, and the gossip would be rife.

  "I'll tell you what. You ladies go and I'll meet you back at the house later."

  "No, if you're not going, Geri, then neither am I," Mum said.

  I sighed. "Oh okay, I'll go—but I don't want to stay out all night."

  They both linked their arms through mine and excitedly walked along the road towards the pub. Just then my phone rang.

  I shrugged off Mum and Auntie Beryl and dug it out of my pocket, turning towards the village green.

  "I'll catch you up." I waved my phone in the air before answering. "Hi, Luce—was gonna ring you later." Lucy was married to Simon’s best friend and, although we felt as though we had been thrown together at first, we had slowly become best friends too.

  "I've been going out of my mind, Geri. Where are you?"

  "At my parents' house—didn't Simon tell you?"

  "I didn't ask him, but I've called you loads of times and your phone just goes to voicemail."

  "Sorry, there's no signal at the house. I'm surprised I've got one now, to be honest with you."

  "So what's happened? We haven't seen Simon and I've not told Mark anything. I figured it's not my place."

  "Not a lot. He came home the other night after you left ..."

  "He didn't!" She gasped.

  "He did. I thought he was a burglar, I couldn't believe the cheek of him."

  "So what did you do?"

  "To be honest, not a lot. I went to bed and left him downstairs. When I got up yesterday he was upset and I actually felt sorry for him."

  "Well, I wouldn't."

  "It's not his fault, Lucy. It's nobody's fault."

  Lucy snorted. She obviously didn't agree with me.

  "It's not. Although I'm still really angry at him, I know deep down he can't help it."

  "So are you just going to forgive him?"

  "If I thought for one minute that forgiving him would solve everything, I'd do it in a heartbeat. But I know it won't." My words sounded so grown up that I even surprised myself.

  "If it was me, I think I'd chop off Mark's bits and feed them to the dog. The dirty bastard."

  "Bit harsh, Luce. It's hardly the crime of the century. I'm not the first woman in the world, and definitely won't be the last, to discover her husband's gay.

  Chapter 3

  The pub was heaving. It always surprised me how busy it got on a Friday night, considering the village is only tiny.

  I recognised several people right away. Nodding and waving, I found Mum and Beryl at the back of the room looking over the menu.

  "There you are, Geri. Come and sit down. Who was on the phone? Simon?"

  "A friend." I smiled, not wanting to discuss Simon in front of Beryl. I'd been shocked at how I'd defended Simon to Lucy. Even though everything she said was how I actually felt, it angered me to hear her speak about him that way.

  "Geraldine—is that you?"

  I almost jumped out of my skin as someone pounced on me from behind and pulled me into a bear hug.

  I pushed away enough to see it was my old friend Debbie—mad Debbie she was fondly known as. She was talking ten to the dozen, but most of it was drowned out as the DJ began belting out some tunes.

  "Come and join us?" she mouthed, indicating a table full of girls to the side of us.

  "Can't. I'm with my mum. Another time, I promise." I smiled apologetically.

  "How long you here?"

  "A while." I nodded, really not ready to be having this type of conversation.

  "Great," she shrieked. "Can't wait to hear all your gossip."

  "Me too." Inwardly wincing, I smiled and nodded as she dropped my hands and left to join her friends.

  Eager to eat and get the hell out of there, I scanned the menu. We all chose the chef's special, steak 'n' ale pie.

  Beryl handed her winnings to Mum, who pushed her way to the bar to place the order, stopping a couple of times to chat to people she knew.

  I kept my head down, not wanting any more reunions.

  "How's Carl getting on, Beryl?" Mum asked when she returned.

  "Not so bad. He seems to be settling down, anyway."

  Mum turned to me. "Beryl's nephew is staying with her for a while. He's a mechanic in Kirkby Mayor. In fact, it's Carl who's been seeing to your car for you. Tell her, Beryl." Mum stood up. "I need to go to for a wee," she whispered.

  Mum, who was usually the ultimate lady, would normally make a discreet exit for the bathroom, so this rather frank confession shocked me slightly. Beryl didn't seem to notice though, and I wondered if I was being too sensitive.

  "Yes," Beryl continued, as Mum went off in the direction of the ladies. "I don't know how long he'll be here though. He doesn't seem to stay anywhere for long and he's frustrated with this place. It's not nearly busy enough for him you see. He's been in Australia for the past three years."


  "Really?" I wasn't interested in the slightest about Beryl's nephew, but I had to appear as though I was, seeing as she was kindly paying for my dinner.

  "Yes, he's thinking of going to Canada next. This is just a stop gap for him."

  "Right, and how's Julie getting on?" I could have kicked myself as the words left my lips.

  "She's very well. The baby's almost six months old already, and Julie's back working part time at the pharmacy. I look after baby Jack three mornings a week. He's adorable!"

  "Lovely." I looked towards the bar to see where on earth the food was. The last thing I wanted to hear about was how wonderfully well Julie, her successful businessman husband, and delicious baby were doing. Not right now anyway, when my own life was in such a tattered mess.

  There had always been an element of competition between me and Julie growing up. She was just so bloody good at everything and she knew it. I knew she'd take great pleasure in learning how my marriage had turned to shit and gloat at how she and what's-his-name were deliriously happy.

  The rest of the evening went smoothly. The food was so-so, Mum and Beryl exchanged small talk for little over an hour and then we headed off home. Mum had had a couple of brandies and was quite tiddly, which again was unlike her. She had us laughing at her when she tried to walk properly and say goodbye to the barmaid in her best speaking voice. It was so nice to see her enjoy herself though. I felt a pang of guilt, once again, for not being in touch nearly enough.

  We walked across the green, and I noticed Dad peering out of the window as we arrived at the house.

  "Do you want to come in for a nightcap, Beryl?" Mum slurred.

  "No, thanks, Grace. I'll see you on Monday for yoga."

  We watched as Beryl continued along the road to her door, and we waved goodbye as she went inside. On the way up the path, I turned to Mum. "Since when have you been doing yoga? Things have really changed around here."

  "That's not all I do." She chuckled. "Yoga on Monday morning, embroidery on Wednesday afternoon, bingo on Friday night, a-nd ..."

  "Go on, spit it out." I laughed.

  "I go to salsa classes on a Saturday night."

  "You're kidding. Who with?" I was so surprised.

  "With your dad, of course." She hiccupped. "We're planning to go on a cruise around the world and I want to salsa with your dad in Cuba."

  We walked inside, and Dad jumped up from the sofa as though he'd been there all night. I smiled to myself.

  He helped Mum off with her coat, and she grabbed him around the waist and started swaying her hips seductively towards him.

  "Hello, my two favourite girls. How did your night go? Grace! Are you drunk?"

  "A bit." She giggled. "Dance with me, Maxie."

  He put his arms around her and gave her a kiss on the lips. My heart contracted as I watched them. They were still so much in love, just like newly-weds.

  I left them to it and went up to bed feeling bereft all over again.

  ***

  I was awake with my eyes still shut tight. I couldn't hear anybody else up and about, so I figured it must be still quite early.

  I rolled onto my side and looked at the clock. I leapt up from my horizontal position. It was almost 11am.

  Mum had never let me sleep in that late before—she thought lie-ins were unhealthy and a waste of the day. I scrambled out of bed and made my way downstairs.

  The living room curtains were still closed which I found extremely odd. There was total silence throughout the house.

  I filled the kettle and popped two slices of bread into the toaster before wandering back through to the lounge. As I opened the curtains, I heard a loud groan behind me. I whirled around in fright to find my mum lying on the sofa. She looked terrible.

  "Close the curtains, Geri, please," she moaned.

  "Mother!" I couldn't hide the amusement in my voice. "Do you have a hangover? Would you like a hair of the dog?"

  Another groan. "It's not funny. I feel terrible."

  "Where's Dad?"

  "Golf."

  I heard the toast pop up in the kitchen.

  "Can I get you anything to eat or drink?"

  She nodded. "Will you get a bottle of Lucozade from the shop? And Geri, close those bloody curtains."

  "What will the neighbours say? It's almost half-eleven," I giggled.

  "I don't care. I feel terrible."

  Chapter 4

  James closed his laptop and got slowly to his feet, uncurling his stiff body in a way that stretched each vertebra in his back.

  Katrina had often joked that he'd develop a hunchback if he wasn't careful. She even set an alarm on his computer that would go off every hour to remind him to stand—get a drink—stretch his legs—take a pee.

  But it hadn't worked. Or in truth, it had worked, but not in the way Katrina had intended. It only succeeded in disrupting his train of thought and jolting him from his writing while mid-sentence. It hadn't taken long before James was ready to launch his laptop across the room if she didn't remove it immediately.

  Katrina, his ex, was a nice enough woman, and he'd considered the possibility that maybe she was the one. Let’s face it, he wasn't getting any younger. But she was a control freak. She'd slowly infiltrated his life and had it running like clockwork.

  Maybe some people would be grateful for this sort of intervention, but not him. He didn't do schedules and timetables. He worked when he had something in his head to write—slept when he was tired—and used the toilet when he could hold it no longer, not when a stupid sodding alarm told him to.

  She had been good in a lot of ways though. At least now all his bills were paid on time.

  He'd felt awful when he finally had to tell her it was over. She almost fainted. In fact, it had reminded him of the old cowboy movies he used to watch with his Grandad, where the damsel came over all faint and would swoon. He caught her, slid his arm around her waist, and led her to the nearest chair.

  Then came the sobbing.

  He wasn't a hard man by any means. His heart broke in all the right places while watching a touching movie or if he saw an injured or mistreated animal. But something about a woman's sobs made him want to get as far away as possible. He immediately felt the hackles rise on his neck, and instead of comforting her and making soothing sounds like most decent men, instead he patted her on the back and fled.

  He'd seen her twice since that day, and both times were tense and awkward. Once was when she brought her two huge brothers to collect her belongings from his flat—he thought he was in for a kicking that day. And the second time, they bumped shopping trolleys in the local Tesco's.

  He wasn't sure if she'd done it intentionally, but after their trolleys had crashed he looked up and she was standing there, a slightly deranged look in her eyes. After a moment or two of pleasantries, he managed to sidestep her and got the hell out of there, leaving his shopping trolley and groceries exactly where they were.

  The sounds of an altercation on the street outside the hotel drew him to the window where he saw two men—both out of their cars and pointing at something that James couldn't see. Although he wasn’t normally the nosy neighbour type, he was bored shitless in this place, and any entertainment was better than absolutely nothing.

  He'd been back in the area for a week now and was no closer to finding who was responsible for the attacks. The local policeman wasn't particularly helpful, which didn't surprise James. They had history, a stupid childhood feud that James had long since forgotten about, but Vinny, the local cop, obviously hadn't. When James had arrived he tried to pick Vinny's brains and find out some extra information that hadn't made the news yet, but Vinny had been tight-lipped and obnoxious.

  James was writing his third true-life crimes book—and this story in particular was more important to him considering he'd been born in the village and knew the victims personally.

  The spat out on the street had wound down and one of the men marched back to his car and sped off. The other pulled
into a parking space. Show over.

  He glanced across the village green, and his stomach lurched. Could it be? Nah, it couldn't—he'd spoken to her dad just a couple of days ago, and he didn't say she was here.

  But he was certain the woman walking diagonally across the grass towards the shops was Geraldine. She'd hardly changed, obviously a little older, but he'd know her anywhere.

  He ran to the bathroom and quickly rinsed his face, brushed his teeth and shoved a comb through his thick, wavy hair. Finally, he sprayed his underarms with deodorant, stuck his head inside his tight fitting grey t-shirt and sniffed. Satisfied, he grabbed his jacket, room key and wallet and raced from the room.

  By the time he'd reached the foyer of the hotel, he'd composed himself and strolled onto the street, nonchalantly heading towards the shops.

  There was only a handful of shops in the village. However, he felt like a stalker when he finally spotted her. She was at the back of the general store, flicking through the magazines. He sidled up to her, waiting for her to raise her head, so he could feign surprise at this unexpected meeting. But she didn't look up. There was only one magazine on the shelf that he could respectably flick through—the Classic Car magazine. The rest were women's mags or top shelf porn.

  He'd practically read the whole thing, and she still hadn't noticed him. He hadn't plucked up the courage to say one word, so he replaced the magazine on the shelf and retreated to a safe place where he could secretly watch her.

  She was more beautiful than he remembered. Her light brown hair shone with the golden highlights that he'd admired as a kid. Her figure had definitely filled out from the girl he fondly remembered into a curvaceous woman, but he had no doubt it was definitely her.

  The sound of somebody clearing their throat behind him made him whirl around. He came face to face with an elderly woman he recognised as the witch. The witch, as she was known years ago, lived in a rickety old cottage on the edge of the village. She used to put the heeby jeebies up him.

  She wore a long, grey coat buttoned up to her chin and a matching woollen hat. She gave him a disapproving glare. He realised what he must look like, stalking a pretty woman in the village, especially when there was a rapist on the loose.