Strangers

by David Moody

‘No, no... this isn’t right... He’s panicked, is all. Someone else did this and Ken’s found her and panicked.’

  Scott shook his head and tried the phone anyway. Christ, why hadn’t he spent more time thinking about the practicalities of dragging his family to the ends of the Earth like this? Shitty phone coverage, fuel stations about half a tank apart, blood-soaked bodies dumped in forests and retired school teacher’s back gardens... He went back towards the house. ‘I’ll try the landline.’

  ‘What if Ken’s in there?’

  ‘Then you can talk to him. He’s your mate.’

  Scott tried the back door. It was unlocked. He opened it but paused before going inside. If he hadn’t had Barry with him, he thought he might have just got back in the truck, driven away and pleaded ignorance later.

  ‘Anyone here? Mr Potter... you in?’

  He was standing in the middle of the kitchen, a room as antiquated and untidy as the rest of the house. Strange. There was a half-drunk mug of tea on the counter and an unfinished sandwich, just a couple of bites taken. He touched the side of the cup and it was still warm. Had Ken Potter simply decided to kill that girl right in the middle of his lunch? And there was only one drink and one plate of food... had she turned up unannounced? Had he murdered her on a whim?

  ‘Ken,’ Barry shouted, his voice echoing. ‘You here, Ken?’

  ‘I reckon he’s long gone.’

  ‘I’ll phone for help,’ Barry said, squeezing past and going out into the hallway. He looked around constantly as he picked up the telephone and called the police. Scott followed him out and listened to the empty house around them. He was sure they were alone. Potter had clearly done what he’d done then made a run for it. Strange, then, that he hadn’t taken his car.

  ‘Well?’ Scott said as Barry replaced the receiver.

  ‘Sergeant Ross says he’s on way. Says he’s stuck dealing with something else first. We best wait in the truck. Don’t want to be takin’ any chances.’

  #

  It was more than an hour before the police arrived. Barry knew each of the men in uniform personally. Sergeant Dan Ross was clearly in charge – older than the others, grey haired, and, it seemed, in no mood to take any crap. With him was PC Mark Hamilton, half the sergeant’s age, but just as professional, and PC Craig Phillips, an altogether more relaxed officer. He remained with the two men in Potter’s cluttered living room while the others secured the scene and waited for back-up to arrive. Barry excused himself and went to the toilet leaving Scott with PC Phillips.

  ‘I knew he was a wrong-un,’ the PC whispered. Scott was shocked by his lack of professionalism. ‘Can’t say I’m surprised. My old man always said he was capable of it.’

  ‘Capable of what?’

  ‘Doin’ what he’s done. You pissed him off at school and you knew you was in trouble.’

  ‘He taught you as well?’

  ‘Very few folks round here Ken Potter didn’t teach. Half of Thussock would have been out in the streets celebrating if he’d been the one found dead in the flowerbed.’

  ‘So what happens now?’

  ‘Big one, this is,’ the officer explained, giving away too much information but apparently unconcerned. ‘We’ve got everyone working on it. Ties in with the others.’

  ‘The others?’

  ‘Aye. Glennaird and Falrigg. Joan Lummock? You must’a seen it on the news.’

  ‘I saw something...’

  ‘Never thought it’d be Ken Potter, though. Sick bastard. Still, we’ll have him before long. He won’t get far. Everybody round here knows him. I’ll look forward to seeing him banged up. Might sell a few tickets to that one.’

  6

  It was almost ten by the time Barry dropped Scott home, the questioning at Potter’s house having gone on for some time. Scott had managed to get the briefest of messages back to Michelle after she’d picked up the girls from school, but the brevity of their conversation had inevitably raised more questions than it answered. There’s been an incident, was all he told her. I have to give a statement.

  ‘What happened, love?’ she asked the moment he was through the door. ‘I’ve been going out of my mind.’

  He looked up. Phoebe was at the top of the stairs. Tammy appeared in the living room doorway. ‘Not in front of the kids,’ he said and Michelle shooed the girls away then followed him into the kitchen. She fetched him his dried-up meal and a drink and put them down in front of him. He just stared at his food.

  She held off for as long as she could, wanting to give him a chance to get over whatever it was that had happened, but after a couple of minutes she could wait no longer. ‘You going to talk to me?’

  ‘I found a dead body,’ he said, and the combination of such unexpected news being delivered so abruptly, so tactlessly, took her by surprise.

  ‘You... you found what?’ she stammered.

  He looked up at her face, a mask of seriousness but with a definite hint of disbelief, bordering on a smirk. ‘You heard me. I made a delivery, but one of the blokes at the yard fucked it up. I had to go back to the same customer’s house later with the boss and...’

  ‘What had happened to him?’

  ‘Nothing. He’d gone. Done a runner. Left a girl in his back garden, badly fucked up.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘What do you think I mean? He’d cut her up, Michelle. Looked like he’d had his way with her, then cut her up. Sick fucker sliced her fanny to pieces.’

  Michelle visibly recoiled, again both because of what he’d said and how he’d said it. He took a couple of half-hearted mouthfuls of food, then shoved the plate away.

  ‘Want me to cook you something fresh?’

  He shook his head. ‘Nah.’

  ‘Want a beer or something?’

  Another shake of the head.

  ‘Want me to—’

  ‘I want you to shut up, Chelle,’ he said. ‘Give me some space.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  He looked at her, watched her watching him. ‘I’ve been answering questions all day. Just don’t want another load, that’s all.’

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘It’s not your fault.’

  How could it be my fault, she thought but didn’t dare say. She could only imagine what he’d been through today, this coming on top of everything else. She sat down next to him and cautiously put her hand on top of his. When he didn’t react, she held it a little tighter.

  ‘How did the girls get on at school?’ he asked.

  ‘Fine. Both miserable as hell, complaining about the kids and the teachers and how much homework they’ve got. They’ve settled in quick. That’s exactly how they were in Redditch.’

  He managed half a smile and seemed to relax slightly. ‘George all right?’

  ‘He’s fine. He missed you tonight, though.’

  ‘I’ll see him in the morning.’

  ‘That’s what I told him.’

  ‘I think I will have that beer,’ he said, and Michelle got up to fetch it from the fridge. She took the lid off the bottle and handed it to him. He gestured for her to sit back down. ‘And what have you been doing with yourself today?’

  ‘Oh, just pottering around the house, unpacking. Not a lot else to do yet. We’re going to go out tomorrow, George and me. Get signed up at the doctors and see if I can find something for him to do. He needs to get out and mix with other kids.’

  ‘I know.’

  For a short while longer, neither of them spoke. Michelle almost did a few times, but she didn’t want to put her foot in it. He did this too often, distracting her with trivialities to keep her from asking about the big stuff. Scott picked at his food and she cleared her throat. ‘Look, love, I know you’ve had enough and I don’t want to do anything that’s going to upset you, but I just need to know a few things about what happened today, okay? I’m not asking you to tell me everything, I just want to know that you’re all right and that we’re going to be okay here.’

  ‘If
there was a problem I’d tell you.’

  ‘I know you would. It’s just that—’

  ‘We’re going to be okay.’

  ‘It’s just that I feel really out on a limb here, emotionally as well as physically.’

  ‘I get that.’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘Yes, and like I said, we’re going to be okay.’

  ‘But this girl... the police...’

  Scott drank more beer, then put the bottle down. ‘What’s the problem? What more do you want me to say? Look, I’ll spell it out for you, shall I? I made a delivery first thing, but some dickhead at the yard hadn’t loaded everything up right. The uptight arsehole I was supposed to be delivering to had a fit, so I went back to the yard. I went back out to his house later with Barry Walpole, and he’d disappeared.’

  ‘And that’s when—?’

  ‘That’s when we found the girl, lying in a flowerbed, with blood all over the place and her cunt torn open. Okay?’

  Michelle choked back a startled sob. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘So we phoned the police and waited a fucking age for them to turn up. It’s not like Redditch here. I get the impression there’s only half a dozen of them, and they didn’t know their arses from their elbows. Took for-fucking-ever to get everything done, so that’s why I’m back so late. Oh, and I’ve still got a job, if that’s what you’re worried about.’

  ‘Of course it’s not. I don’t care about the bloody job. I’m just interested in you.’

  ‘Nothing to worry about. Think about it logically – this girl gets sliced up and Potter goes missing the exact same time. He probably did that body in the woods we saw on the news too.’

  ‘You think?’

  ‘One of the coppers practically said as much.’

  ‘So who was he?’

  ‘Ex-school teacher. Bit of a bastard from what I hear. Bit of a sick fuck, actually...’

  ‘Why did you have to be the one who found her?’

  He looked at her, surprised. ‘Luck of the draw? What does it matter? I didn’t do it. It’s got nothing to do with me.’

  ‘I know that, but people here don’t know us, do they? They don’t know anything about us other than the fact we’re new to the area. I’ve had enough of people whispering behind my back. We came here to get away from all that.’

  ‘This is different.’

  ‘It sounds like everyone knew this Potter guy.’

  ‘They all know each other, fucking inbreds. Anyway, they didn’t know him like they thought they did, did they? Fuck’s sake, he carved up a girl in his back garden...’

  ‘We just have to make sure they don’t start pointing fingers.’

  ‘Why would they?’

  She paused, choosing her words carefully. ‘Sometimes you can be a bit aggressive, Scott. You can fly off the handle.’

  ‘Only if I’m pushed.’

  ‘I just don’t want you doing anything you’ll regret. Anything we’ll regret.’

  ‘Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?’ he demanded. Michelle swallowed hard. Nervous. Scared.

  ‘My husband. Look, Scott, you know I love you and I’ll always support you...’

  ‘Is there a but coming here?’

  Another deep breath. She didn’t know how he was going to react, but she had to say this. More to the point, he needed to hear it. ‘We’ve had to make a lot of sacrifices for this family, and we don’t have a lot left to give. Personally, love, I’ve got nothing left. I know what happened today was out of your control, but we have to deal with it in the right way and not alienate ourselves. There’s nowhere left for us to go now.’

  ‘What’s going on?’ Tammy asked. Scott and Michelle both looked up. They hadn’t noticed her standing in the doorway.

  ‘How long have you been listening?’ Scott yelled.

  ‘Few minutes.’

  ‘And what did you hear?’

  ‘Not enough by the sounds of things.’ She turned and faced her mother directly. ‘What’s going on, Mom?’

  ‘It’s nothing. Just give us some space, Tam.’

  ‘Bullshit.’

  ‘Tammy, watch your language.’

  ‘Don’t speak to your mother like that,’ Scott said, staring straight at her.

  ‘Why not? You do,’ she said, staring straight back. She flinched when he pushed his chair back and went to stand up, but she stood her ground. Michelle put her hand on his arm.

  ‘Tammy, please,’ she said. ‘Just leave it. It’s none of your business.’

  ‘It is though, isn’t it? How can it not be?’

  ‘Look, Scott had some trouble at work and—’

  ‘Already? You’ve only been there two days, Scott.’

  ‘It wasn’t his fault.’

  ‘You always say that. You always defend him.’

  ‘It’s true.’

  ‘You always say that too. We’ve been down this road before, Mum, remember? You kept telling me then that everything was fine and there was nothing going on, then you put the house on the market.’

  ‘Tam, leave it...’

  ‘No, I won’t. It’s him again, isn’t it?’ she said, nodding at Scott but unable to bring herself to even say his name. ‘Everything was fine until he got home. He’s back for five minutes and you’re shouting at me and treating me like a kid again and—’

  ‘Do what your mother says,’ Scott warned. ‘Leave it. Go back to bed.’

  ‘I’m sick of this,’ Tammy continued, clearly in no mood to do either. ‘I’m sick of the way you keep messing with our lives. You think you’re the only one who matters.’

  ‘I’m the only one who keeps this family functioning,’ he told her.

  ‘You’re the one who ruined everything. You screwed things up for all of us. It’s your fault we’re here, your fault I had to leave everything that mattered to me.’

  ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about, you silly little bitch.’

  ‘Scott, don’t...’ Michelle protested.

  ‘Did you hear what he called me? Mum, did you hear what he just called me?’

  Scott leapt up and sprung at her, grabbing one arm and pinning her up against the wall. ‘I’ll call you a lot worse if you don’t shut up. Now take a hint and keep your bloody nose out of things that are none of your business.’

  Michelle pulled her husband away from her daughter, squeezing into the gap between them. She turned around and gently pushed Scott back into the kitchen, not wanting to wind him up more than he already was. She looked back over her shoulder at Tammy who remained pressed up against the wall, tears rolling down her face, more through anger than fear.

  ‘Go, Tammy,’ she mouthed. And Tammy didn’t want to, but she did.

  7

  Michelle’s heart sank when she woke up next morning and remembered everything that had happened the night before. All she wanted was to close her eyes and go back to sleep for another few hours, maybe even a day, perhaps a month or more. She’d gone to bed after she and Scott had finished talking – shouting – and he hadn’t said a word when he’d come in hours later. Then he’d got up this morning and it was like nothing had happened. She’d expected that. She’d grown used to his mood-swings and tempers. Strange to think that she’d actually found his volatility attractive when they’d first got together. It had been a stark contrast to Jeremy with his steady caution and dreary predictability. It had been exciting for a time. It had made her feel alive. Not anymore.

  She worked like a bloody trooper first thing; washed and dressed before the others were even awake, and she’d had the house cleaned and breakfast on the table before the first of them had made it downstairs. Normally she liked to be up first, to make the most of the quiet before the usual domestic storm, but today there were things she needed to think through. What exactly had happened at that man’s house yesterday? Why was it always Scott?

  Once the kids were downstairs she was distracted. She refereed a couple of minor skirmishes between the girls, help
ed George with his porridge, and kept all three of them out of Scott’s way. It was a delicate balancing act. She thought she deserved a bloody medal but her efforts went unnoticed as usual. All they had to think about was themselves, she was the one who kept it all together. She stared out of the kitchen window, eating a piece of toast she didn’t want but thought she’d better have, watching birds turn impossible angles in the grey sky. She envied their freedom, their manoeuvrability.

  She dropped Scott at work then took the girls to school. Then, with the three of them out of the way for the day, she turned around and looked at George strapped in his travel seat behind her. ‘So what do you reckon, sunshine? Shall we go see if there’s anything for a big man like you to do in Thussock?’

  #

  Chores first. She had a list of them. This was the last one.

  ‘I’m sorry, I can’t remember my postcode,’ she said to the woman behind the counter. ‘I’ve not been there a week yet.’

  ‘Well without your postcode, madam, we can’t register you and your family as patients here. I’m a receptionist, not an address look-up service.’

  ‘There’s no need to be sarcastic. People call it the grey house, you know it?’

  ‘Oh, I know it all right, Willy was a patient here.’

  ‘Can’t you check his old records then? Get the postcode from there?’

  ‘That’d be a breach of customer confidentiality, I couldn’t possibly do that.’

  ‘He’s dead, isn’t he? I don’t reckon he’d be too bothered.’

  ‘Hardly the point now, is it?’ The sour-faced woman just smiled, the knowing smile of someone sitting behind safety glass who couldn’t be throttled or punched. ‘Why not take the forms with you and bring them back when we’re less busy.’

  Michelle looked over her shoulder. The spacious waiting room was empty but for two patients, one reading a dog-eared magazine, the other coughing and wheezing constantly. She turned back and eyed-up the ice maiden behind the counter again, knowing this was a battle she wasn’t going to win. More to the point, it was a silly, trivial fight she didn’t need. She picked up the five forms. ‘Thanks for nothing. I’ll be back.’