Death Bed

by Leigh Russell

  ‘Anything’s better than this.’

  She nodded at the computer.

  ‘About Saturday evening,’ Geraldine began when they sat down with their drinks.

  She hesitated, feeling self-conscious. If she said the wrong thing relations between them could become strained, which would be awkward as they had to work together. Besides, she liked Sam Haley and was worried she might hurt her feelings if she spoke clumsily. To say she had no problem with Sam’s sexual orientation sounded patronising. It might have been better to say nothing, but she had started now and had to carry on.

  ‘Sorry I left so early,’ Sam smiled, misunderstanding.

  ‘I didn’t do a very good job of taking you out. But you could have stayed, gone out with the girls. I was just wiped out.’

  ‘One of your friends said - ’

  Sam put her head on one side and waited. Geraldine tried again.

  ‘Your friends seemed to think we might be - ’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I think they might have got the wrong idea about us. I don’t know what gave them that impression.’

  ‘About us? That was probably Liz. She’s always concocting some new piece of gossip. No one takes any notice of her.’

  ‘So you don’t - ‘ Geraldine hesitated.

  ‘Don’t worry, I don’t fancy you,’ Sam said, and burst out laughing.

  Geraldine smiled.

  ‘Thanks for the compliment.’

  ‘You know what I mean.’

  ‘Anyway, you’re not a lesbian. I am. End of. This isn’t Bridget Jones. As far as I’m concerned work is work, and with all due respect, what I do in private is my business. My sexual orientation is nothing to do with you. And being a lesbian doesn’t mean I automatically want to jump on every woman I meet. For goodness sake, Geraldine - ‘

  She broke off, exasperated.

  ‘I didn’t mean - ’

  ‘I know. No offence taken. Let’s just drop it, shall we?’

  ‘Right then, back to work,’ Geraldine said, relieved.

  ‘Let’s go over what we know.’

  Sam nodded and bit into a slice of cake as she listened.

  ‘He’s tall, dark-haired, well-spoken and driving a dark car, probably black.’

  ‘A tall dark-haired stranger,’ Sam laughed, brushing crumbs from her lips with the back of her hand. ‘Do you think he’s handsome? If we believe what Douggie Hopkins told us,’ she added, serious again.

  ‘His statement was corroborated by William Kingsley,’ Geraldine reminded her.

  It was so frustrating, knowing Douggie Hopkins and William Kingsley had both met the killer, yet were unable to give the police any useful clues about his identity.

  ‘How many tall, dark-haired, well-spoken men are there in London, do you suppose?’

  Geraldine frowned at her mug of coffee.

  ‘I’ve reread Douggie Hopkins and William Kingsley’s statements so many times I know them off by heart, but I can’t see we’ve missed anything. Come on.’

  She stood up, suddenly decisive.

  ‘Where to?’ asked Sam.

  ‘Let’s speak to those two again. Perhaps one of them will remember something.’

  ‘Anything’s better than being stuck here reading all those statements again.’

  Sam stuffed the last mouthful of cake in her mouth, washed it down with a gulp of coffee and jumped to her feet.

  ‘And I think we should start putting a bit of pressure on our friend Mr Hopkins,’ Geraldine added.

  ‘About bloody time! Let’s make the little rat squeal.’

  ‘Do I detect a touch of sadism, Sergeant?’

  ‘A girl’s got to have a bit of fun, ma’am.’

  Sam winked and Geraldine couldn’t help laughing.

  55

  RITUAL

  He pulled on a pair of rubber gloves before reaching inside the top kitchen cupboard where he kept a catering saucepan he had bought especially for the purpose. It had taken him some time to find one that was large enough. Lifting it down, he removed his carefully selected implements: a butcher’s cleaver, a set of saws, a sharp knife, a long handled two pronged fork and a pair of tongs. Although well-used, they were all gleaming, the blades recently sharpened. Crossing the room at a deliberately slow pace, he flipped the switch on the kettle. Every stage in the process was familiar as the steps in a sacred ritual. While the kettle came to the boil, he took a large plastic bag out of the freezer and held it up to the light to study its contents.

  No longer excited at preparing small bones for the collection, he was ready to work on larger exhibits, instead of buying them in. One day, he might attempt a skull. Meanwhile, this was the largest specimen he had yet tackled. It was going to be tricky, but it would be worth the effort if he could pull it off. The main difficulty was controlling his impatience. Hacking the foot off at the ankle had been easier than he had expected, and it was now time to complete the task. With the lower leg part inside a plastic bag, he measured its length and relaxed on seeing that it would fit inside the pan. He picked up his knife, slit the bag open, and dropped the leg into the water, adjusting the heat until it was simmering gently.

  He poured himself a cup of tea and sat down. While he waited, he tapped one polished shoe against the leg of his stool in time to the tune he was humming. The blue and white cup reminded him of his mother’s best china tea set and the tea was exactly how he liked it, hot and strong. Contentedly he leaned back against a cupboard, shifting sideways so its door handle didn’t dig into his back. It was one of those rare moments when life seemed perfect. He had done the hard work. All he had to do now was wait.

  When he judged the flesh was well cooked, he turned out the gas. The gently bubbling water gave off a subtle aroma. It wasn’t unpleasant. Still humming, he laid a folded newspaper on the tray. This he covered with layers of clean kitchen roll. Then he drained water from the pan and placed the leg down on the white paper where it lay, glistening. As gently as he could, he wrapped it in kitchen roll, squeezing it gently to allow its moisture to seep into the paper.

  Unerringly the sharpened blade slid through flesh to bone. He was careful. The slightest scratch would render the bone useless, but he had judged it well and the meat came away easily. Gently he scraped off every scrap of soft tissue. By the time he had finished, the paper was streaked with fragments of flesh. He tore off a few clean sheets of kitchen roll and patted the bone dry. With a trembling hand he reached out to stroke its smooth surface. He thought how pleased the owner would have been if she could have seen this timeless memento of her life.

  Jon would come to appreciate how privileged he was, viewing the collection before anyone else. Earlier visitors had passed on, but he appeared stronger than the women who had gone before him, and it was important he stayed that way. He was part of the plan. In the meantime, there were preparations to complete. Reverently picking up the bone, he wrapped it first in kitchen roll, and then foil, to protect it.

  With the worktops scrubbed, and his utensils stored in the cupboard, he sat down to gloat over the slim foil parcel. Later he would take his new exhibit up the attic and decide where to display it, probably on the same shelf as Chief Sitting Bull’s whip. Admittedly the whip was made from a thigh bone while this new specimen was a shinbone, but they were both human leg bones. It was important for the collection to be orderly. It had to make sense.

  56

  HEADY RECKLESSNESS

  The office manager had sent an email round first thing Monday morning.

  ‘Don’t forget we’re all going out after work today!’

  Vicky sighed but she knew everyone had to go, sales personnel, office manager, accounts and admin staff.

  ‘It’s a bit of a cheek,’ she muttered to Melissa who sat opposite her, ‘expecting us to put in time outside working hours.’

  ‘Well, it’s not like it’s work,’ Melissa replied. ‘They are taking us out, aren’t they? I’ve got no problem with that.’

  �
��No, I’m not saying I’ve got a problem with it. I’m not complaining, but I could do without it after a day at work, that’s all I’m saying.’

  The big boss was in the UK on his annual visit from America. Having spent the weekend in London he was at the office for meetings with the area manager and sales team all day, and after work the staff were all going out for dinner.

  ‘If you ask me, it’s a great perk,’ Melissa grinned, ‘being taken out to a restaurant by the boss.’

  ‘Yes, but it’s Monday night. Who wants to go out on a Monday night? They could at least have arranged to take us out on Friday.’

  Melissa shrugged.

  ‘I can’t see what difference it makes. Not everyone’s free on Fridays so a Monday makes more sense, and we’ve still got to eat, even on a Monday. I think it’ll be fun. Are you going home first or have you brought something with you?’

  She reached down to pull a carrier bag from under her desk. ‘I brought my things in with me.’

  She glanced at her watch.

  ‘Are you coming to the loo to get changed soon?’

  Vicky shook her head.

  ‘I’m going like this. I mean, it’s a work outing, isn’t it?’

  Vicky enjoyed her job, but she liked to keep regular hours. Although she got on with her colleagues well enough she wasn’t completely comfortable about socialising with them outside the office. Melissa stood up, swinging her carrier bag, and grinned.

  ‘Free drinks all evening,’ she said and Vicky forced a smile. She didn’t often drink, not like some of her colleagues who went out after work most evenings. Vicky just liked to get home at the end of the day. She had gone out with them over Christmas and had finished her evening throwing up in the toilets. Thankfully her colleagues had all been too merry to notice how ill she was, and no one had taken much notice when she had left early, pleading a headache.

  Melissa disappeared for over half an hour to get changed, leaving Vicky to cover the phones. Finally they walked in a group to a small Italian restaurant in Baker Street where Vicky found herself squeezed in between two salesmen.

  ‘Come on, drink up,’ one of them told her while they were waiting for their food. He had a nice smile and she noticed his eyes linger on her with unmistakable interest. She had never really noticed him before but he was quite attractive. Caught up in a sudden heady recklessness, Vicky drank.

  ‘Why not?’ she giggled when he offered to refill her glass.

  Everyone else seemed to be having a good time and her journey home was easy enough. Perhaps it wouldn’t do her any harm to relax for once.

  ‘Why not indeed?’ the salesman laughed as he filled her glass to the brim.

  Their food arrived and after that the evening passed in a blur. Vicky was surprised how much wine she managed to put away; after the first two glasses she lost count and couldn’t remember if her colleague had refilled her glass two or three times, but she felt fine. She supposed it was because of the huge pizza she had ploughed her way through while drinking. It seemed as though hardly any time had elapsed since they had arrived at the restaurant when the accounts manager stood up. He was in his fifties and looked worn out.

  ‘It’s been a very enjoyable evening,’ he announced, ‘but I’ve got to make tracks.’

  He turned to their boss and explained that he had a long journey home.

  ‘I can’t afford to miss my train. Early start in the morning,’ he added with forced cheeriness.

  ‘Goodness, it’s half past ten already,’ someone else said and a few other people began to mutter about having to get home.

  ‘It’s still early,’ the boss protested, signalling to a waiter to bring another bottle of wine.

  ‘You’re not leaving are you?’ the salesman asked Vicky.

  She realised she couldn’t remember his name. She giggled helplessly for a moment before scraping her chair back and getting to her feet.

  ‘It’s been a lovely evening.’

  She held onto the back of her chair as she spoke.

  ‘But I really need to get going.’

  Not until she stood up did it hit her that she’d had way too much to drink. She began to giggle again, for no reason.

  ‘What’s so funny down there?’ the boss called out to their end of the long table.

  Vicky started to shake her head but the movement made the room sway.

  ‘I’ve had a lovely evening,’ she repeated quickly, stumbling over her words. ‘It’s been really lovely, but I have to go.’

  She turned and made her way carefully to the door, hoping she wouldn’t throw up in full view of all her colleagues. She could see the tube station over the road and it was only a few stops back to Camden, from where it was just a short walk to her flat. As she crossed the road she tried to remember the name of the salesman who had been chatting her up. She hoped she would see him again soon. When she entered the station a blast of warm air made her feel sick and she struggled to take out her Oyster card and make her way through the turnstile, desperate now to get home.

  57

  SUDDENLY SCARED

  Geraldine and Sam found Douggie Hopkins at home. Although it was early evening he looked as though he had just woken up.

  ‘Bloody hell, what now?’ he grumbled when he saw them on the doorstep.

  He rubbed his eyes.

  ‘Who is it?’

  His wife came to the door and stood just behind him, staring at Geraldine.

  ‘We don’t want - ’

  Geraldine held out her warrant card.

  ‘It’s the police, Mary. You go on in. I’ll talk to them.’

  ‘We’d like to go over your statement again.’

  ‘It wasn’t his fault,’ Mary piped up. ‘The other bloke just set on him. Douggie never started it. It’s the other bloke you should be talking to - ’

  ‘Go inside, Mary,’ Douggie told her.

  He gave her a little shove and she disappeared inside the house, complaining.

  ‘It wasn’t his fault. The other bloke just set on him for no reason - ’

  Douggie looked anxious.

  ‘She thinks you’re here about the scrap in the pub.’

  ‘You mean she doesn’t know about your car disposal activities?’

  ‘Look, I never stole that motor. It’s all perfectly legit. As far as I’m concerned, I just got rid of it for the owner. There’s nothing in the law says I can’t do that.’

  ‘Douggie, we’re not here to investigate you and your dubious operations.’

  She glanced at Sam.

  ‘At least, not yet.’

  ‘What are you on about, dubious? That’s slander, that is. Insulting an honest man’s reputation - ’

  Geraldine ignored his protest.

  ‘What we are interested in is the man who paid you to take the car to Epping Forest.’

  ‘Well, I’ve already told you I don’t know who he was. And what’s more, I don’t want to know. It was just a job. He’s nothing to do with me.’

  Douggie’s whole demeanour was tense, as though he was suddenly scared.

  ‘This man threatened you, didn’t he Douggie? He scares you.’

  ‘Ha! You’re having a laugh. It takes more than some posh geezer to put the frighteners on me,’ he blustered but his hands trembled as he lit a cigarette. ‘I’m not that easily scared.’

  He was rattled alright.

  ‘We have a few more questions, Douggie. We’d like you to accompany us to the station.’

  He glanced over his shoulder.

  ‘I’ve got nothing to say. I’ve told you everything I know. Christ, I took you to Epping Forest, didn’t I? You can question me till you’re blue in the face but I’m telling you I’ve no idea who the bloke is. I’d never had anything to do with him before and I haven’t heard from him since.’

  ‘Come along now, Douggie,’ Geraldine said quietly as Mrs Hopkins reappeared in the hallway behind her husband.

  ‘Let’s not have a scene.’

  ‘
Are you still here?’ Mary Hopkins asked. ‘Did you get the bugger who assaulted Douggie? I hope you lock him up and throw away the key.’

  Geraldine sighed.

  ‘We’re working on it,’ she replied, but she wasn’t talking about the man who had been brawling with Douggie in the pub. ‘Now, your husband is going to come with us and help us with our enquiries, isn’t that right?’

  ‘But it wasn’t his fault. What’s going on, Douggie?’

  ‘It’s alright, love.’

  He inhaled deeply and grinned, putting on a show of self-possession in front of his wife.

  ‘Come along now, sir.’

  ‘Douggie - ’ his wife cried out.

  ‘Just drop it, Mary,’ Douggie called over his shoulder as he followed Geraldine to the car.

  At the police station Douggie glared at Geraldine across the table.

  ‘We’re not convinced you’re telling us the whole truth, Douggie, and it’s important we know everything about this man.’

  ‘Not to me it isn’t.’

  ‘If you can help us find this man you could be looking at a reduced sentence for illegally disposing of a wanted vehicle,’ Sam said. ‘Perverting the course of justice, you’re looking at a custodial sentence - ’

  ‘Oh fuck off and leave me alone will you?’ Douggie exploded. ‘What do you take me for? I told you, I don’t know anything about him except that he was in a hurry to get rid of the car. He didn’t want me to wait till the morning to take it to be scrapped. I had to get rid of it that night. It was a business transaction, nothing illegal about it.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Why what?’

  ‘If someone pays you to torch a car, there must be a reason. Why did he want to get rid of it so quickly?’

  ‘How the fuck should I know? Look, he didn’t say and I didn’t ask. It was just a job, alright?’

  ‘OK, let’s assume for a moment this mystery man exists and he paid you to destroy the car. You weren’t just getting rid of it for your own purposes - ’

  ‘Leave it out, will you? For fuck’s sake - ’

  ‘This man. You said just now he’s a complete stranger, and what’s more you wouldn’t want to know him. So why are you so keen to avoid him? What was it he said? That he knows where you live, wasn’t that it? Is that why you’re worried about him?’