by Toni Parks
The end was an anticlimax. Bill slumped forwards and his already bloated body began to grow even larger as the foam explored every cavity, into which it looked for opportunities to expand. He became distorted in shape and even after death, movement could still be glimpsed as crevices were reached and infiltrated, the foam seeking out the last remaining spaces. Brody convinced his victim was now totally dead, ordered his associates to turn him on to his back so that the message could be left. Having completed their task they then exited the warehouse carrying all clues appertaining to their identity and leaving only a grotesque caricature behind with bulging bloodshot eyes unevenly spaced in a misshapen face, and just marginally covered up by a Tarot card, entitled ‘Justice’.
CHAPTER FIVE The mobile rang out unexpectedly. Emma had convinced herself that there would be no reply, not from the dead anyway. A female voice answered just before it switched over to voicemail, “Hello, you have reached the mobile of Jeremy Longthorne. How may I help you?”
For a split second Emma considered hanging up thinking it was a recording but then realised that in doing so she would be no further forward. So she spoke instead, “Hello. My name is Emma Flynn and to be honest I don’t know why I’ve rung this phone, seeing as I know that Jeremy’s dead.”
On the last word there was a slight catch in her voice, which allowed the other person to say comfortingly, “Yes, we are all devastated with his murder and none more so than me as I worked for him for over twelve years. But I’ve been asked to keep his phone live, mainly in case of any of his former clients ringing in a business capacity.” Both communicators then remained silent for a length of time as if in reverence to his demise, after which the other voice continued, “My name’s Rachel Scott, by the way. And your name sounds familiar. Just a second whilst I think. Being caught out about Jeremy, kind of unawares, still throws me. Emma. I remember you’ve got a sister called Jessica, that’s right isn’t it?”
“You’ve got it. My sister Jessica,” replied Emma feeling her own emotions somersaulting at the thought of what Jessica was now going through.
“Yes. A colleague of Jeremy’s has been trying to get in touch with you, as it happens. Have you changed your phones?”
Guardedly Emma replied, “Get in touch with us? Changed our phones? Yes, actually we have. We got a better deal but it involved switching the numbers as well,” she fibbed.
“You don’t have to be concerned. I’m not trying to pry. It’s just that Mr Simkins has taken on the role of executor of Jeremy’s will and either Jessica, that’s right isn’t it, either Jessica or you need to be spoken to in relation to that. I shouldn’t say it but I think Jeremy may have left you a little something. He was such a kind man.”
For Emma this was going from bad to worse. Not only did she feel partly responsible for his death but she was now going to be given a little something by way of blood money. So she responded, “That’s very kind of Jeremy,” and faltered, recognising that it was both impractical and impossible for a dead person to be kind. “Sorry, you know what I mean, that was kind of Jeremy to think about my sister and me when he was alive.” The hole got deeper, so Rachel hauled her out.
“I fully understand your meaning and I too still have low days when I think about never seeing his handsome face again. Look, now I’ve gone too far as well. But if I’m honest, I did have feelings for him and would have even fought those murderers bare-handed if I thought there would have been a chance of saving his life.”
“OK. This is getting a bit weird now. We’re not talking on Jeremy Kyle here, but I understand about emotions, and that we have both lost a dear friend. So what do I do now?” enquired Emma.
“Well, you need to pay us a visit. Would tomorrow suit or is it too soon?”
“Tomorrow? Don’t you have to get in touch with this Mr Simpson to find out when he’s free?”
“Simkins. Sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself and leaving you behind. I work for him now. He’s taken me under his wing as a continuous link with Jeremy’s former clients. And if I’m honest I think that he thinks that it’s part of my therapy too, so this enables him to keep an eye on me at the same time. His diary says he’s free tomorrow at 14.00. Does that suit?”
Emma procrastinated and then decided that a task in hand would give her brain focus, and so less time to dwell on Jessica’s dilemma; and all within a twenty second time span. “Two o’clock tomorrow is fine,” she confirmed feeling proud of herself for her mental agility at weighing up the pros and cons. “What’s the address?”
“Good question. It’s pointless you travelling all the way to Aberdeen and then not having details of the final destination. It’s on Justice Mill Lane. Number 32. Simkins & Simkins. They’re two brothers; you want Stephan. Do you know Aberdeen? If you come by train then the station is close by Union Square Shopping Centre. We’re a short walk, sort of northwest direction and an even shorter taxi ride. We run parallel with Union Street. Make a note of the phone number in case you get lost.” With that she reeled off a number of digits, expressed her pleasure at meeting Emma on the morrow and was gone.
Making use of her new decisiveness, Emma surfed the net for train times and googled a street map of Aberdeen, to check on what she would actually find in the northwest direction of the city. Locating the street she was able to virtually visually see the buildings on Justice Mill Lane, so giving her the confidence to find it on the following day. She had no-one to tell of her journey with Jessica still holed up at the police station and from her own experience she knew visitors were not allowed until the suspect had been in front of a Sheriff. Anyone being visited, after conviction at a Sheriff & Justice of the Peace Court knew that they were staying for a period of time at Her Majesty’s pleasure, at least short term. If the case transferred up to The High Court of Justiciary, then the offender would usually be expecting that stay to be somewhat longer.
So Emma had time on her hands and felt she was making the best use of it; or was she? The trip to Aberdeen could prove almost as uneventful as the men in her life. Men she had slept with for financial gain and who gratuitously acted out their perversions on her body. She could count on one hand the number of men who had shown her any respect or kindness for her person. And as she sat quietly on the train to Aberdeen, she began to do just that. However, she had to bear in mind that the majority of men she had taken had been under the influence of drugs or alcohol or both, so she had never had the mental capacity to vote as to whether they were: good, bad or indifferent. Back to the calculation, she gazed through the window as she sped hypnotically past the copious oblong shaped patches of yellow rapeseed crop interspersed with the lush green or golden hue of its neighbours and set her mind to the task. Shock hit her at the realisation that the answer only stretched to her index and middle finger. Two fingers held out in front of her represented the sum total of the men in her life whom she felt any affection for and whom she felt might return the same. And one of them, who she had hoped to bond with and held a torch for, was only in her imagination as her intentions had been to get to know him better; before his tragic death. She had met Jeremy only the once but on that occasion he had made a lasting impression on her, but then again hadn’t all men? And the second man who had made a serious impression had actually come back from the dead, to haunt her sister no less. And now she herself was going on a possible wild goose chase to allegedly hear something to her benefit from beyond another grave.
Yes, this unknown friendly female voice had enticed her to Aberdeen on the off chance that she could find advantageous information about Jeremy, the would-be sugar daddy who was never now to materialise. She had taken the Number 51 bus to Edinburgh and caught the 11.28 at Waverley to Aberdeen; knowing that even if it was on time she would only have ten minutes to make the meeting, but she blamed Jessica for that. Jessica was always the prompt one, the one with the built-in clock, who panicked if she thought that she would be late for an appointment. And she was banged up probably waiting for a Sheriff’
s court appointment to start the wrecking ball rolling. This contemplation made Emma melancholy when she had already agreed with herself to be strong. Strong, both for Jessica and the road that lay ahead.
The train arrived in Aberdeen three minutes early, a positive result about which the station announcer could not help boasting over the tannoy system. Even so, the walk and Emma’s lack of sense of direction swallowed those extra minutes up in spades. She finally arrived at Number 32, all hot and flustered. Once there, she put a face to the voice and name she had spoken to and had been given the day before, whilst exclaiming, “Sorry, I’m late. But it’s to be expected when there’s no Jessica around to supervise me. Where are the ladies, please?” The face, the voice and the name pointed the direction and Emma stepped along the corridor and through a door, to freshen up. Taking her time she re-applied lipstick, checked over the rest of her face and tussled her hair, whilst taking deep breaths to allow her heart rate to slow and her temperature to drop. ‘That’s a bit of a porky,’ she thought. ‘I’ve never been punctual for a solicitor with or without Jess, so I’m not about to break a habit of a lifetime, especially when it won’t be me paying the bill!’
Rachel escorted her to the door of Mr Simkins’ office and knocked softly. “Enter.” Rachel opened the door and ushered Emma through with gravitas. Mr Simkins rose with the same gravitas and presented his hand to Emma. She gave it a quick shake and sat down with what she thought was a demure motion, but definitely not one of gravitas.
“Miss Emma Flynn,” began Mr Simkins. Emma noticed the nameplate on his desk, ‘STEPHAN SIMKINS’. “My name is Stephan Simkins and I have been tasked with the execution of a colleague’s will. A Mr Jeremy Longthorne. Are you alright?” asked Mr Simkins.
Emma’s countenance had taken on a slight smirk as her thought process whirred at seeing his name and being informed of his name as if in a scene from Dickens. A character so full of self-importance that he needed his name to be foremost in everybody’s mind so as to be never forgotten. But then at the mention of Jeremy’s name she let out a gasp.
“Yes, sorry. It’s just at the mention of his name; he was important to me and, even though I’ve been around death before this one seems so much closer to me, somehow.”
“Yes, I can understand. Would you like a glass of water or shall we proceed?” Emma’s shake of the head followed by a nod, confused Mr Simkins but he carried on anyway. “Mr Longthorne’s will. Apart from a small gratuitous payment to his secretary for her services and any outstanding bills relating to his business, such as rent, utility bills, Tax and NIC et cetera, he has left everything else to you and your sister, Jessica Lambert. However, I can’t help but notice that you are on your own, Jessica is not with you?”
“I don’t know anything about paying bills: what was it again: rent, tax, nick, et cetera.”
“It’s not nick, it’s NIC. National Insurance Contributions. And don’t worry your little head about those things. A charge will be made against part of the estate being held back to cover accountancy fees. All invoices due for payments and all monies due in will be handled by Rachel. After that is completed the accounts for the late Mr Longthorne will be finalized and signed off with a cheque for the requisite balance being issued. But I digress; your sister, Jessica Lambert, not with us today?”
“No. Jessica’s otherwise engaged. It was a little short notice for her to rearrange her commitments,” replied Emma floundering to find enough convincing excuses whilst at the same time searching for enough material, with which to dry the palms of her hands, along the length of her too short dress.
“No problem. The Will states that both your sister and you benefit equally and that the Will may be executed in the presence of one or the other. So I’m pleased to inform you that you both will become very wealthy ladies. As well as a property here in the city, Mr Longthorne has left £268000 pounds plus the residue from his business after all bills have been reconciled, as aforementioned. My advice would be to seek financial advice, particularly bearing in mind Capital Gains Tax, Inheritance Tax and such like, and not to play footloose with such a vast sum. Nothing will be released until I have secured both your signatures but rest assured that is purely a formality and not an obstacle to deprive you of this good fortune. There is another sealed envelope here, which is addressed to you both, again with a stipulation that you both must sign, to authorise its release. So, if you could just sign here for that one and here for the Will itself and take both that copy and the Will copy for your sister to sign, obviously once she has read the full details.”
“Obviously,” repeated Emma with gravitas.
Mr Simkins then stood gravely and offered Emma the documents in one hand and his hand in the other. Emma totally confused by this arrangement, took the documents shaking them as she did so before grasping that the other hand was there for her to shake instead. But she grasped that one too, made an apologetic squeak for her lack of businesslike manners and turned to go. Mr Simkins was at the door before she had even swivelled around and held it open smiling all the while.
“Remember. It is your money to spend as you will but don’t disregard my advice. There are a lot of rogues about always ready to fleece you of a little, let alone such a vast sum as this. But you must ensure your sister signs on the dotted line, and it is to be witnessed I might add, or it could take somewhat more time before the money can be released. Good day Ms Flynn.”
“Yes, thank you very much. Mr Simkins, most kind,” replied Emma thinking that, it was not a good day. It was a fantastic day.
She was chaperoned off the premises by Rachel who offered, “I hope it was good news?”
To which Emma replied, “The best. Thank you for getting in touch and I hope Jeremy was kind to you too. I envy you for having known him for such a long time.”
“No Emma, thank you for getting in touch via Jeremy’s phone. Fate made you do it and now my conscience is calmed in the knowledge that Jeremy’s wishes have been fulfilled.” At this both women parted quickly and both for the same reason; to shed a little tear for a man now departed.
Emma stopped her blubbing and skipped all the way back to the station. She thought about celebrating but knew in her mind what kind of trouble that could lead to and she had already promised Jessica that those days were behind her. She thought of the friends she would tell about her additional good fortune, and on top of the fortune they had uncovered in Zurich too. And then realised dejectedly that she had even less good friends on one hand than she had lovers and all they would be interested in would be the quickest way to blow it or to screw her, or both. She thought of Jessica and her reaction to the news and again knew that Jessica had more important worries on her mind than how to spend thousands of pounds. She imagined by now that Jessica’s first bridge would have been crossed with her Sheriff’s court appearance and that no doubt she would be detained whilst all the evidence began to be stacked up against her.
So, she took her train back south and reminisced about the last time she had been on the train, with Jessica, setting off from St Pancras on their crazy zig-zag trip across Europe with Jessica’s never ending concern that they were being pursued. How right she had been to worry.
Then a bus journey even further south, knowing that life was taking a turn for the better apart from the fact that her sister was facing a life sentence for taking five lives. She contemplated giving all the cash away just to have her sister free, before recognising that she was Emma, Emma the dumb blond. What chance had she got of organising a strategic plan, when she could not even find her way around a Monopoly board? No chance was the answer, but she knew she had come up smelling of roses now as well as after their previous trip, but this time it was Jessica’s freedom at stake. The previous trip, now there was a thought and suddenly she knew a man who could!
*
Jessica’s solicitor did not share Emma’s optimism. The Sheriff had listened to the evidence and felt on balance that Jessica should be held in detention, particu
larly due to the seriousness of the case and to allow for expansion of the evidence. It was a foregone conclusion that it would be transferred to The High Court of Justiciary and work would continue at a pace to resolve what had become one of the most infamous clusters of murders in Scottish history. Jessica was taken down, escorted to a Police vehicle and driven the thirty miles or so to Cornton Vale Prison, situated between Bridge of Allan and Stirling. She had given the duty solicitor Emma’s mobile number and asked that she contact her so that she would not be worrying unduly. The solicitor had indicated that she would help Jessica arrange a visit for Emma, whilst she was in transition awaiting her up coming case at Edinburgh High Court. And for all the impact her appearance in the Sheriff’s Court should have had, the media were still far too busy throwing all their energies at the video murder, so allowing her first hearing to pass by unnoticed.
The phone call from Amy Pryce came as a great surprise and relief to Emma. She had been pondering over the problem of how to contact Jessica, both to check how she was holding up and to impart the good news. Although she did not expect it would prove beneficial to Jessica’s situation or demeanour. Amy rang with an update on the case. DNA had been taken and, unfortunately for Jessica, had proved a match, a match to evidence found on a murdered victim. On meeting silence, which Amy interpreted as a shock reaction, she continued with, “Don’t worry too much yet. It could be seen as bad news but if that is the only link it is only strong enough to establish that Jessica met the man, not necessarily that she was involved in his death. But the detectives are pursuing other lines of inquiry, which could prove more detrimental. Another reason for the call really, Jessica won’t open up to me so I was kind of hoping that you might give her a try. We’ve got to open that door in her head and encourage her to release some facts.”