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

by Netta Newbound

  "Oh, so you came over last night? Yeah, I guess it's a long drive at that time of the morning."

  "Yeah, and I'll stay again tonight. It's getting a bit late to head back now."

  We sat at a table right next to the roaring open fire.

  "Can I get you something to eat?" Simon asked.

  I wasn't hungry, but thought it best I eat. I had the baby to think of now. I guess that's another conversation that was needed.

  I nodded. "Yeah—just get me what you're having." He knew what I liked. We liked the same things, so I trusted his choice.

  If anybody had told me this morning that I’d be spending the evening with Simon before the day was out, I'd have laughed in their face. But it had been a funny old day. The things I'd thought were important this morning were proving to be not so important, after all.

  My mum was sick. Oh God, every time I thought about what the future might hold, my stomach did an almighty somersault.

  I needed to talk to her. I rummaged around in my handbag and found my mobile. Dad answered on the second ring.

  "Hi, Dad, it's me. How are you?"

  "I'm bearing up, love. Where did you go?"

  "I'm with Simon in The Speckled Hen. We'll have dinner here. Can I speak to Mum for a minute?"

  "I'll get her."

  Soon after, Mum came on the line.

  "Hello, Geraldine. I'm sorry."

  "Mum, it's okay. I just wanted to tell you that I love you, and we'll get through this together. I promise."

  "I love you too, sweetheart ..."

  "Mum?"

  "It's me, darling. Mum's a little choked up right now. She'll speak to you tomorrow."

  "Goodnight, Dad. I love you."

  "I love you too."

  Simon arrived back at the table. "I've ordered us both burger and chips."

  "Okay," I said, but my stomach lurched at the thought of greasy food.

  He took his jacket off and draped it over the back of the chair beside me before sitting down. He rubbed his hands together and then held them out in front of the fire.

  "It's toasty in here," he said.

  I smiled.

  "What?" he asked, one bushy eyebrow raised.

  "You. I've missed you."

  He reached across the small, round, wobbly table and gripped my hand. "I've missed you too, Geri. Look—I know I've hurt you, but if we could still be friends it would mean the world to me."

  The hairs on the back of my neck bristled at his words, and I snatched my hand away—feelings of betrayal washed over me in a wave.

  "Sorry."

  I shook my head. "I'm not ready to let bygones be bygones, Simon. But maybe we could take one step at a time?"

  "Whichever way you want to play it is fine by me." His sincere blue eyes bored into mine.

  A middle-aged waitress approached us with two huge plates laden with food.

  "Look at the size of that." My eyes almost popped out when I saw the enormous burger.

  The waitress smiled as she placed them on the table.

  "There's no possible way any normal human being could get their mouth around that thing," I continued. "You'd have to have a flip top lid."

  "A what?" Simon chuckled.

  "A flip top lid, you know ..." I used my hands to demonstrate my mouth flipping open all the way back like a kitchen rubbish bin we used to have.

  He laughed, squashed his burger down with the flat of his hand, then picked it up and took a ginormous bite. He was barely able to close his mouth, never mind chew.

  I shook my head and laughed as a dollop of mayonnaise dribbled down the side of his chin.

  I unwrapped the napkin from my knife and fork and handed it to him. Then I cut my burger into quarters and began nibbling on a piece.

  "So tell me, what's been happening at the house?" I asked.

  He placed his burger down on the plate and finished his mouthful, dabbing his mouth on the napkin. "Not much—except FB next door has been letting his dog shit on our lawn again. I told him I wanted it cleaned up, or I'd call the council."

  FB was the neighbour who lived in the house adjoining ours. He was massively obese and was known as FB in the area—short for fat bastard. Not very politically correct, or kind for that matter, but he was just awful with a terrible attitude to boot.

  "Ew! What did he say?"

  "Denied it, of course. But it was gone by the time I got home from work the next day, so it was obviously his dog."

  "Anything else? Have you seen Mark yet?"

  He nodded, taking another mouthful of food and chewing it quickly.

  "I saw him last week, but I didn't tell him. I'm scared he'll start treating me differently. We've been friends for six years."

  He won't—why would he?"

  "Might think I fancy him. I don't know. People are funny," he said.

  "Mark's not like that. But he will be upset if he finds out Lucy's been keeping it from him."

  "I know. I'll tell him next week. We're playing squash on Thursday."

  I nodded.

  Simon finished his food, pushed his plate away and wiped his mouth on the napkin again. He exhaled loudly and shifted position, hooking his thumb into his waistband.

  "Don't you like it?" He nodded at my plate.

  "It's nice, but I don't have any appetite."

  "Fancy a dessert?"

  I blew my cheeks up and shook my head. "Nah—I'm fine." I placed my knife and fork on the plate of hardly touched food.

  "Sorry about that."

  "Don't be daft. If you've finished, do you want to get going? We can walk to my parents’ place and call a taxi if you like."

  "Okay."

  Maybe it was because we'd been sitting almost on top of the fire, but the temperature had dropped outside and it felt quite cold.

  Simon tucked my arm in his and we huddled together as we walked along the main street.

  Suddenly a police car screeched to a halt beside us and Simon dramatically pulled me out of the way. Not that it would have hit me—it was miles away.

  Vinny jumped out.

  Chapter 24

  "Watch out, mate. You almost knocked us flying," Simon shouted.

  "Oh, I get it—Simon McIntyre's back on the scene. Explains why you’ve been giving me the cold shoulder, Geraldine."

  "What the fuck do you want, Vinny?" Simon asked.

  "Watch your mouth, boy," Vinny said.

  Simon laughed. "Boy! We're the same age." He blew out noisily as he shook his head in contempt, squaring his shoulders and eyeballing Vinny who was doing exactly the same.

  "Hey—hey. Enough of that," I said, squeezing myself in between them. "Did you want something, Vinny?"

  "Just thought you might like to know your other boyfriend is being taken in again for questioning."

  I glanced in the direction he was pointing and noticed Carl in the back of the police car.

  "Carl," I cried.

  Carl gave me a sheepish smile and shrugged.

  "What for this time, Vinny?"

  "Same thing—we have further evidence."

  For the first time, I noticed the ugly side of Vinny. Gone was the sexy, handsome boyish face, and in its place was an evil, nasty one.

  "So you two are on again, I take it?" Vinny asked.

  "So, what's it to you, Vinny? It's none of your fucking business." Simon’s top lip curled in a snarl.

  "I've already told you—watch your mouth when you speak to me."

  "Give over, you two." I took Simon's arm and steered him away. "Come on, Simon. Let's go."

  As we passed the car, I waved at Carl through the window. "Can I do anything?" I asked.

  Carl shook his head.

  "You'll be okay.”

  Carl smiled and nodded.

  We continued up the street.

  Moments later the car sped away on squealing tyres.

  "Fucking prick," Simon said, as we watched the lights disappear into the distance. "What the hell's wrong with him?"

/>   "I think he might be jealous."

  "What of—me?"

  I nodded. "I went out with him on Friday night, and now he clearly thinks he owns me."

  "Oh my God, Geri! You went out with Vinny? What's wrong with you? He's always been a narcissistic prick."

  "I don't know what that is, but yeah, you're right—it was a mistake." I shook my head. "But seriously—how gay are you?"

  "What's that supposed to mean?" he said.

  "Did you not notice how effing hot he is? Plus, we actually had a nice night."

  "So why was it a mistake then?"

  "It just was, and now he's gonna take it out on Carl."

  "Who is this Carl anyway?"

  "He's just a friend—Auntie Beryl's nephew. I'm staying with him at her house while she's away."

  "Oh." He nodded.

  "You don't seem surprised. Did Mum tell you?"

  "She did mention it," he said, shiftily.

  I wondered what else she had just mentioned and then remembered the tumour and my heart constricted.

  We turned into his parents’ street. There were no street lights here, and I found myself holding onto Simon's arm a little tighter.

  "So you didn't say why Vinny arrested him."

  "There have been a number of rapes in the area and Vinny has it in his head it's Carl."

  "Geri! I've been following that on the news, and that guy’s a monster. You need to stay away from him, Geri."

  "From who? Carl?"

  "Yes, Carl."

  "For God's sake, Simon. Are you not listening? It's not him."

  "You don't know that, Geri. You've only just met him."

  "I know it—trust me."

  Simon pulled a bunch of keys from his pocket. "Let's call that taxi."

  "Keys!" I pounded the heel of my hand onto my forehead. "I don't have a key to get into Auntie Beryl's, and I can't go back to Mum's tonight."

  "Stay here then."

  "With you?"

  "Of course with me." He held the door open.

  I stepped into the long hallway.

  The house was dark and cold.

  "I'll put some lamps on and light the fire," he said, reading my mind like he always used to do.

  It felt strange being back in his parents’ house. As kids, we'd never been allowed to hang out there. Instead we were always at my house, and it had been no different once we were older. If we were in the area, we'd stay with my parents and just pop in for a flying visit to see Paul and Agnes—which is what Simon called his parents. He wasn't allowed to call them Mum and Dad to their faces.

  They were nice enough, but they weren't very sociable. They were more than happy in their own company, which is one of the reasons they bought a remote villa in the South of France. We had been to the villa but never when they were there, even though it was big enough for us all.

  Simon's brother, Peter, was also like them. He was two years older than Simon but had no wife or girlfriend on the horizon. He lived in London and very rarely phoned or came for a visit. Simon was the only normal one out of the whole family, and I'm sure that's because he spent most of his time with my family.

  I thought about my mum and my stomach twirled.

  "Have you spoken to your parents lately?”

  No—not for a while. In fact, the last time was when you were there."

  "Gosh, Simon. You need to call them."

  "I will, I will." He screwed his eyes up and lifted his hands to his ears, something he always did if he thought he was being nagged at.

  "I'm not nagging you, but I always made sure you called them every two weeks. If you want to maintain the pretence, I suggest you do it."

  He bent to light the gas fire and then straightened up, groaning as he did so. "I'll call them the first chance I get, I promise. Now, do you want a cuppa?"

  "Yes, please.” I sat down on the cold leather sofa and tucked my legs underneath myself.

  By the time Simon came in with the tea, I could already feel my eyelids drooping. He switched the TV on and sat in the armchair opposite.

  I woke up with Simon standing over me with the main light on and the TV off.

  "Oh, I'm sorry. I must have nodded off."

  "You don't say." He laughed.

  I chuckled. "Was I snoring?"

  "Just the usual piggy grunts you normally do."

  "Piss off." I shoved him playfully.

  "Come on. Let's go up." He helped me to my feet.

  I was unsure of how we were going to do this. The most natural thing to do would be to share a bed. We'd been doing it for long enough without any hanky-panky, but I wasn't about to suggest it.

  I was surprised when he led me to his parents’ room.

  "Oh gosh, Simon, I can't sleep in here—can't I have your room?"

  "It's much nicer in here, but yeah, if you want to swap we can."

  "Please, if you're sure you don't mind."

  I followed him to his bedroom which, like mine, was just as he'd left it years ago. I felt completely at home in there.

  The navy blue duvet and fleecy black throw on the single bed looked comfy, and I couldn't wait to climb into it.

  Simon rummaged around in his bag and handed me a white t-shirt.

  "Oh, thanks. I'd sooner sleep in the nuddy though." I laughed.

  "You now have a choice." He threw the t-shirt on the bed. “Can I get you anything else?"

  I shook my head. "No. I should be fine 'til tomorrow."

  "Goodnight then." He paused by the bedroom door for a moment before backing out and closing the door behind him.

  I glanced around, picking up an old Manchester City programme from off the bedside cabinet. Simon had always been mad about Manchester City, although all his friends and even his dad supported Manchester United and gave him untold amounts of grief for it.

  I placed it back down and slowly undressed, deciding to wear the t-shirt after all, just in case there was an emergency in the middle of the night.

  I crept to the bathroom, and on the landing I could hear Simon talking. I hovered outside the bedroom door for a few minutes while I listened.

  He was on the phone to Kevin.

  I couldn't make out the whole conversation, just the odd word or phrase, but I could tell he was filling him in on the day's events.

  A fresh wave of anger and jealousy washed over me. We were so good together. It hadn't taken five minutes in each other’s company before we were chatting away as if nothing at all had happened.

  Over the past few weeks, I'd blamed Kevin in my heart—but in my head I knew if it hadn't been him, it would have been someone else sooner or later.

  Simon was gay—end of story.

  What a situation to bring a baby into. I'd considered not telling him, but not only was that unfair, there was no way I'd get away with it. Especially now, with Mum being ill and Simon offering to help out. But I could keep it to myself for the time being while I tried to work it all out in my own head first.

  Back in the bedroom, I snuggled down into Simon's squeaky old bed.

  I had been surprised at Vinny's performance tonight. If I had been considering seeing him again, he'd have completely blown it after that.

  But I didn't intend to see him—didn't intend to see anybody. I was content to cook this little bun for the time being. My baby was much more important than any self-centred man.

  And then there was Mum's tumour. I needed to focus all my time and energy on her. Get her over this operation and fighting fit again. She had a holiday to plan—what had she said? Oh yes, salsa dancing with my dad in Cuba. I'd make sure she got there if it killed me.

  I slept fitfully—dreaming about all kinds of everything ... Mum and Dad dancing to salsa music which soon became Mexican music—James being whisked around the dance-floor by Shelly, who was dressed in a sexy Mexican outfit. Carl behind bars—gazing at me imploringly—Vinny standing on the outside of the cell, passing Carl's electronic cigarette through the bars—Carl taking a deep drag—V
inny laughing, his eyes flashing evil. Then I was suddenly with Vinny in his lounge, his lips and hands all over me, and I screamed in utter ecstasy.

  Three loud raps on the door startled me from my dream. Simon popped his head into the room.

  "Are you okay, Geri? I could hear you crying—are you worrying about your mum?"

  I nodded. I couldn't very well tell him that the cries he heard, and for obvious reasons didn't recognise, were actually cries of passion.

  "Do you want me to stay for a while?" he asked.

  I nodded again and scooted over in the bed, leaving an empty gap for him to climb in beside me.

  I fell asleep with my head on his chest.

  Waking up in Simon's arms it was, for a split second, as though all the awful stuff of the past couple of weeks had been another nasty dream. It wasn't until I rubbed my eyes awake and saw Simon's old room that the realisation came crashing down.

  "You okay?" Simon asked.

  I hadn't noticed he was awake.

  "Wha ... Oh yeah—fine," I said. "I'd best get going though."

  I climbed over the top of him and began to get dressed, my back firmly turned in his direction.

  Simon coughed and slipped from the room leaving me to get ready in peace.

  We met downstairs a few minutes later. Simon’s overnight bag was beside the front door.

  "I've called a taxi," he said.

  I nodded, feeling silly after last night’s events. And I almost ran down the path as the taxi pulled up.

  Arriving home, I noticed Dad peering from the window, and he opened the front door before we'd even stepped from the cab.

  "Good morning." Dad’s smile lacked his usual enthusiasm.

  "Hi, Dad." I kissed his cheek. "How’s Mum?"

  "She's upstairs—she didn't sleep very well, so I insisted she try to have a nap."

  "How are you, Max?" Simon asked.

  “Yeah—coping. Just." He grinned.

  Simon slapped him on the back in a manly display of affection.

  "I saw both of your cars still out there—is everything alright?"

  "Yeah. We saw Vinny in Kirkby Mayor last night. He's only gone and arrested Carl again. I didn't have a key to Beryl's, so we both ended up staying at Paul and Agnes' house.”

  "And how are they doing?" Dad asked.

  "Mum and Dad are in Portugal—I think."