Gut Instinct

by Linda Mather

  It was a tall green building surrounded unsurprisingly by a tall brick wall. It was a hideous building and should be she supposed, it must house some quite unpleasant people.

  She entered the building and was told by a miserable looking screw to go over the road to a building that looked not dissimilar to a community centre. Apparently she had to book in there first, she’d be given a number then when her number was called she would come back over to the prison.

  It felt like a daft system but hey ho who was she to say.

  The area was pretty scary she thought lots of odd looking characters hanging around or stood doing what looked like deals on the corner. She held her handbag close to her and crossed the road,

  When she walked into the building it was jam-packed with women, a few men and what seemed like hundreds of kids all running riot.

  She walked up to the counter and handed the woman her visiting order.

  “You need to hang on to that love” she said “take it across with you, here’s your number 98, you are”

  “How long will I have to wait” Tanya asked, not relishing the idea of hanging around here all afternoon.

  “How longs a piece of string” she said, then noticing Tanya’s downfallen face she said

  “Shouldn’t be no longer than about an hour and a half love, take a seat if you can find one, grab yourself a cuppa, and if you need any support there’s a lady over there at that desk who can tell prisoners wives what they are entitled to, I can tell you’re a new one.”

  Tanya couldn’t be bothered to correct her, she contemplated going out for a walk for half an hour but she didn’t know which appeared more terrifying in here or outside.

  She got herself a cup of coffee and by chance found herself a seat at a table on her own. The noise was excruciating to her ears, she looked around at the people waiting patiently for their number to be called.

  How ironic Tanya thought all the prisoners were numbers and the prisoners wives or family were too by all accounts. She and everyone in this room were just a number visiting a number. Not such a bad thing for her though she mused.

  She sat looking around wishing she had brought a magazine or something, not wanting to open herself out to conversation or inquisitive questions.

  The way some of the women dressed was startling, looked more suited to a street corner with a five pound note pinned to their arses Tanya thought.

  She scolded herself, she was not usually this judgemental but she couldn’t see the point in them dressing in this way. What were they trying to do tease their men with something they could not have?

  She’d been there over an hour when she noticed one woman hit her kid so hard he fell off the chair, it took Tanya all her strength not to go over and say something, she hated to see children treated in this way.

  “Numbers eighty five to 100 please” a prison officer had come into the room and she was saved from her actions.

  That was her. She got up and they all followed the officer over the road, in line like school children on a school trip.

  She followed the others and handed her visiting order in, then waited to be escorted to the visitor’s room.

  God she would be glad when this day was over, and she would never visit a prison again, she knew that for certain. It was the most demoralising situation she had ever been in.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  When she entered the visitor’s room she scoured the tables for Ivan. They all looked the same in their blue jeans, blue striped shirts and pale faces from having no sun. The only difference was that some of them had a yellow band across their shoulder.

  Then she saw him, stood up waving. She walked over noticing other women kissing and hugging their loved ones and being told to sit down by the screws.

  Ivan shook her hand and thanked her for coming. They sat in silence for what seemed like an age, neither of them knowing what to say. Tanya broke the silence first.

  “How are you?” she asked

  “I didn’t do it Tanya, you know that don’t you?” answering her question with a question.

  “What’s the yellow stripe for” she asked not quite wanting to commit herself.

  “That’s put on prisoners that are an escape or suicide risk” he replied.

  “Oh,” she said.

  Silence again. This time Ivan broke the silence.

  “They’re saying I killed two women Tanya and I didn’t, my brief says I’m looking at life if they find me guilty.” He pleaded, tears forming in his eyes

  “He’s suggested I do a plea, but I’ve said no, I’m not going down for something I didn’t do”

  “No, no that would be wrong” was all Tanya could say.

  “So, I need all the help I can get”

  “Yes, yes I’m sure you do”

  “So I was thinking” he said. Here it comes Tanya thought, what I was expecting and what I’ve prepared for. I’d just hoped I wouldn’t have to do this.

  “Thinking what?” She asked biding herself some time.

  “Will you give evidence for me, Tanya? I think it might help, you know”

  “In what way Ivan?” she asked.

  “Well, you’ve been working with me; you can tell them that I haven’t done it!”

  “Ivan” Tanya said calmly. “As much as I believe you, I don’t know that you didn’t do it…..”

  “But…………..” Ivan interrupted.

  “Let me finish Ivan” Tanya said. “Of course, I would like to help you, but I don’t think me giving evidence would go in your favour”

  “Why” Ivan asked concern etched on his face.

  “Because if I stood in court, I would possibly have to give information that you have disclosed to me”

  “Yes well that’s fine” he said “I have no problem with that, I will sign to say that you can”

  “Ivan, you don’t understand, if I discuss in court about your cross dressing and your sexual problem, this may damage your character. If I discuss what you told me about being arrested when you were nineteen for sex with a minor it would damage your case, I’m trying to protect you Ivan, the prosecution would have a field day with that, they would twist it and make you look guilty”

  Ivan understood, he had forgot about the incident with Tasha, she was fifteen, they were in a relationship, but her parents and the police didn’t see it like that. He was never charged but he agreed it wouldn’t look good if it was brought up now.

  Tanya recognising that the cogs of his mind were turning, she knew that she had got him, and got him thinking.

  “So you see Ivan, as much as I would like to help you, I think I’d be helping you more by staying out of court”.

  “Yes, yes” he agreed you are probably right.

  They talked for awhile, about superficial things, the weather, how he was coping and then the bell went. Visiting time was over. She left pleased that she had convinced Ivan that her services would be more of a hindrance than a help.

  She hailed a taxi, got her train back feeling more relieved than she had in a long time. If she was called to court even as a character witness, then the risk came that the prosecution would look into her past and use that against her.

  Her life was comfortable now, no-one knew her and she didn’t want that coming out to haunt her. She didn’t want to have all of her life resurrected, and Stephen she couldn’t bare for Stephen to find out and even if he wasn’t in the court he would be told.

  This all could have been a nightmare. She needed to be a little bit more choosey about her clientele in future.

  The train arrived in Leicester; she needed a drink, a stiff drink. She took out her mobile and rang Stephen.

  “Stephen Roberts” he answered, she loved the way he didn’t answer with his title. He was not pretentious at all.

  “Hi” she said “fancy a drink?”

  “Yes, what now?” he asked.

  “Yes please” she said “I’ve had a helluva day, just need to get drunk”

  “W
anna talk about it” he asked.

  “No thanks, I don’t particularly want to relive it, just need to have some fun that’s all.

  “No problem, fun you shall have, shall we meet in the usual place?” he asked

  “That would be good she said, see you soon” and switched off her phone.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Friday 18 April

  The music was pounding just like she liked it; she swivelled her body on the dance floor feeling like a movie star. Cocaine had always made her feel like a movie star, made her feel unique and confident.

  When she had a line of coke she was no longer the butch tattooed dyke looking bird that she was, she was sexy, beautiful with an hour glass figure that everyone was now looking at and admiring. She could feel their piercing eyes on her body and thrust her hips even more to tantalise them.

  They all wanted her, she imagined, they were desperate to have her, to take her, to run their tongues over her luscious body and caress her pert breasts she dreamed.

  Floss as her friends called her knew deep down that she was no looker, she had ruined herself in her punk days by the holes left behind from her lip and eyebrow piercings, and her tattooed arms and back that now made her look grotesque and dirty. She wasn’t anything special then, but she at least looked clean.

  But on cocaine she could forget all that and imagine she was a super model that everyone wanted to fuck.

  Guys wanted to fuck her alright, but that was because they thought she was a dyke and they got a thrill out of thinking they’d converted her. She wasn’t though, had never even kissed a girl, and had no interest. The only kiss she’d ever given a girl was a Hartlepool kiss, a quick head butt between the eyes.

  She was well known too, notorious for being the hardest girl on the estate; she loved a good fight made her feel better about herself.

  At this moment in time, she was flying high, the cocaine working its way around her body, making her feel good, making her feel special.

  Floss didn’t care about the ‘crash’ that the cocaine would leave her with for the following couple of days. She could always take something else if it got too bad.

  She didn’t even care that she’d been told that the substance of her choice would make her heart go faster and that her heart would then make her other organs speed up, wearing them out faster. Her lungs, her kidneys, her bladder, all her organs would be a lot older than she was. She didn’t give a toss that it may take twenty years off her life.

  “Who wanted to live till they were seventy anyway, when all you could do was sit in a chair and wait to die, who wanted that extra twenty years when you were pissing and shitting yourself” she would say.

  Floss didn’t have a care in the world, she was a drug addict, any time her self esteem felt low, or she felt depressed or anxious, she would just pump herself with drugs and that would diminish those feelings and make her feel good again.

  Her body had no value to her anyway, so any do gooder that tried to tell her what she was putting her body and her mind through she just ignored and got on with the life she wanted to live. It was her life, her body and her mind, so ‘fuck off’ was all she would say.

  She felt that getting wasted was an art and tonight she had decided to make a masterpiece, she was adamant she was gonna get off her trolley.

  She had always dabbled with drugs, but she had become dependent on them after her mother died.

  She was one of three daughters and had always been the black sheep of the family, the one that rebelled, the one that left school at fourteen and terrorised the streets, she loved the fact that she frightened people.

  The one that slept around shagged anything with three legs. She was the one that was always in trouble with the police for shoplifting, fighting or nicking cars.

  Whereas her sisters were all goody two shoes, stayed on at college, gone to university, required good jobs, met nice blokes and had perfect children.

  Then when she was twenty five her mother fell ill, this was her chance to prove herself, it was cancer and it was terminal.

  Floss moved in to take care of her. It had to be down to her as she was the only one of the three without children, and Floss didn’t mind, she could make it up to her mum, make up for all the bad things she had done, get in her sisters good books too. Black sheep turned white she had thought.

  It hadn’t worked out like that though, it had been hard work looking after her mum and as much as Floss had tried to people please her and run to her every whim, her mother had still hated her, she could tell, still brought up her past, never let her live it down.

  Her sisters weren’t much better, they had even accused her of stealing from her own mother while she was dying and spending their inheritance. She had to live on something for fucks sake, she couldn’t make any money while she was playing nursemaid. It didn’t help that she had spent the money on drugs, but she had to have some enjoyment, some way to chill out once her mum went to sleep in the evenings.

  Her drug use had gradually increased, whilst taking care of her mum and had sky rocketed after she died and after all the hassle her sisters gave her.

  She took anything now. Cocaine, pills, crack and had even took heroin to bring her down from the crack when she couldn’t get hold of any roofies which was the street name for rohypnol.

  She was alone now, no family they didn’t want to know her, no friends either really. She was not daft she knew that people only pretended to be her friend because they were scared of her. Better to have her as a friend than as an enemy, and her drug using friends were fair-weathered, they only hung around if they knew she had a fix.

  She had managed to keep the house though, the council had said that she could stay in it as it was only two bed roomed. So at least she had a place that she could take men home to.

  She had even tried to keep it tidy, had decorated it to her liking and brought some new furniture from a loan she had got from the benefits agency. She had shoplifted a few small items too. It was starting to look different now, more modern, she just needed to get rid of the flowery carpets and lay some wooden floor.

  She bopped all over the dance floor, not caring who she knocked or got in the way of, she was on a roll now, she’d got the rhythm and fuck did she feel horny.

  Cocaine always made her feel that way, helped her to enjoy sex too, she could go all night, not that the men she took home could and she’d given some serious consideration to taking two or three home at the same time.

  It was about midnight when he had approached her, offered to buy her a drink. She shouldn’t really drink when she was on coke, but what the hell she had thought, and asked for a Bacardi and coke.

  He wasn’t the handsomest bloke in the place, but he’d do, she thought as he was kissing her neck and sending a shiver of pleasure down her spine. Cocaine could do that heighten your awareness, heighten the pleasure zones.

  It wasn’t long before they were rubbing their bodies together, touching and feeling each other’s genital areas, groaning and breathing heavy into each other’s ears, oblivious that people were watching and disgusted in their behaviour.

  People were commenting too “Get a room” and “tart” but they were too engrossed to notice, as far as they were concerned they were the only two people in the room.

  Their tongues were passionately playing with each other’s tonsils, when the bouncer came up and asked them to leave. They both left laughing no sense of pride, no embarrassment and jumped into a taxi that was waiting outside, telling the driver, that their name was that of his booking.

  They couldn’t keep their hands off each other in the taxi and the fact that he wore a wedding ring had no consequence to Floss.

  They arrived at her house and she dragged him by his tie into the passage way and stripped him of his clothes, noticing with disappointment the wimpy body and small penis that he had, but she was not disappointed for long as he pulled her to the ground, unwrapped and slipped on a condom as she ripped her own clothe
s off and he shagged her in every position imaginable.

  Two hours later he was gone, home to his wife she supposed but she was satisfied and that was all that mattered. She hadn’t even known his name she sniggered proud of her immorality, not one bit bothered that she was getting quite a name for herself.

  She took out her crack pipe and prepared her fix and smoked it whilst listening to her stereo blaring out the deep tones of Amy Winehouse. Thinking of her next conquest and planning what she would get on her next shoplifting expedition.

  It took her a while to acknowledge that someone was at the door, to recognise what the banging was, at first she had thought it was the crack playing with her mind.

  Someone was banging on the back door. Who the fuck was this, she thought at this time of night.

  “Okay, Okay, I’m coming” she shouted “This better be good!”

  If it’s fucking Leroy after some crack I’ll knock him fucking out.

  She staggered to the back door, opened it and stared at her visitor.

  “Who the fucks are you?” she asked, and that was all she could remember.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Monday 21st April

  Stephen had been sat on Derek’s desk talking to him and John when the call had came through at twelve forty five. Another girl had been found murdered only this time it had sounded messy.

  They’d all three jumped out of their seats, grabbed their coats and travelled to the scene together, sat in silence all the way absorbed in their own thoughts.

  All had been thinking along the same lines, this would be the third murder of a woman in her own home in a short space of time, what the hell was going on, they’d already banged a man up for the other two, had they got the wrong man or is this a separate incident altogether.

  Stephen had taken the driving seat, and he headed for the second time in a month to the Peckleton estate. The weather was dry this time and a small ray of sunshine came through the clouds, but the mood in the car had been dull.

  The information that they had was that a thirty three year old girl had been brutally murdered, she had been found by Leroy Johnson a local drug addict and criminal and thankfully he had done the right thing and called it in.