‘They found a man murdered in his flat!’ She was staring at him, confusion on her face. ‘He’s gone mad Shaun. And I’m petrified he’ll come here. Try to harm us!’
Shaun had not taken much note of the news and for the first time in his life he wondered if he had underestimated his brother. Maybe the little pussy had developed a spine in prison?
‘Don’t worry sweetheart. They’ll catch him soon.’ He eased past her into the lounge. She followed him and watched him pour himself a drink, sniffing at her tears. He wanted to shout at her, tell her to pull herself together.
‘How can you be so... so bloody calm?’ Suzie was verging on hysteria, her voice a shriek, piercing him. ‘If he comes here he might try and kill you. Me! Billy! He’s fucking mad. Your brother is twisted, sick and bitter... For God’s sake!’ She collapsed on the sofa, tears streaming again, her panting gasps suggesting she would hyperventilate.
At times like this Shaun wanted to kill her himself.
‘Calm down Suzie. He won’t come here.’ He said it with conviction, though he was lying. And until a few moments before he had been convinced his runt of a brother was incapable of killing, but now he wondered. He’d wanted the confrontation. Had planned to rip Peter apart. Doubts fluttered somewhere inside his head – was his brother a killer too?
But Shaun had always been stronger, smarter, more ruthless than his baby brother.
Reassured by that thought, Shaun downed his gin and tonic, poured himself another, all the while willing his wife to get a grip. Reluctantly he went to her, sat on the arm of the sofa and draped an arm round her shoulder, the sobbing quieter now.
‘Don’t you worry. I’ll protect you. And Billy. Trust me.’ He stood up and held his hands in a fighting stance. She gazed up at him with wet eyes. Pathetic cow. ‘Remember. I’m a lethal weapon!’ He grinned his soppiest grin, knowing the effect it would have on her.
She laughed, finally breaking out of her hysteria. Yet the funniest thing was, it was true. He was a martial arts expert, a karate instructor. He knew how to kill with his bare hands. And he had killed before...
But a voice whispered in his head: So has Peter. It’s in his genes too.
‘That’s very reassuring, but... perhaps we should ask the police to park outside. Scare him away if he comes.’
‘Suzie, I’m tired, hungry and in need of some supper.’ She nodded, went to the kitchen and he followed. At least that was something. He went on, ‘If the police did bother, how long do you think they would be happy to sit outside. One night? Two, maybe? And then what? It’s pointless.’
‘Please Shaun.’ The tears were back again.
He made a show of giving in. ‘Listen. If you really want, I’ll get some proper protection. A couple of heavyweight security guards.’
It was not such a bad idea and one he had mentioned to that copper who had called him earlier. Some extra muscle, just in case. No need to involve the police. He wanted to deal with Peter in his own special way.
‘Then, if he does come, I can make sure he never bothers us again.’ He made a pistol with his fingers, blew the tips as if puffing at the smoke from a bullet. ‘Now. What’s for supper?’
He left his wife in the kitchen tending to his food, and sat in the lounge, the breeze cooling him through the open patio doors, the garden a mass of shadows behind him.
He relaxed in his armchair, drink in hand, leafing through the Yellow Pages, searching for security consultants with a twenty-four hour contact number. He could probably get someone here within an hour or so.
Except his brother had other ideas.
Shaun’s world disintegrated into an agonising confusion of dazzling lights, then total blackness.
***
Peter Leech had spotted his brother’s car as Shaun pulled into the bay outside the house. Gruber had got that right at least, a silver Mercedes sports with a personalised number plate. SL 500. Shaun Leech and Suzie Leech. How fortunate they had the same initials as their car. He seethed with envy as Shaun had sauntered up the steps, as if he owned the whole world.
Peter had seen numerous photographs of them both over the years, provided by Gruber, giving him something tangible to focus on, the images stoking his anger, ensuring the furnace of his hatred would never cool.
Even if Peter had failed to recognise the man, his attitude, his swagger would have been enough. As it was, Shaun was familiar, but smaller and softer looking somehow. Peter felt his body vibrate with anticipation. He had waited so long for this moment. Imagined different scenarios every day for eighteen long years.
He slipped into the Barbour and adjusted the twine attached to his shotguns. He was ready. He went to the back door and outside into the night, pulled himself up onto the two metre brick wall separating the gardens, feeling his muscles respond, the sensation good, and sat astride the top, observing Shaun’s lounge, the lights inside giving him a clear view whilst he loitered in the shadows.
He felt in great shape despite the beating of a few nights previously, the exertion and anticipation not affecting his heart rate one bit. He almost whistled to himself, he was that relaxed. He heard their conversation, was amused at Suzie’s display of fear, delighted that his brother had not felt it necessary to involve the police.
Not that they could do much.
The moment Shaun sat down, Peter leapt off the wall, landed silent as a cat, clutching the guns to prevent any tell-tale noise. He waited a beat, just to see if Shaun was aware of his impending fate.
No.
Peter savoured the moment as he took hold of one of the guns, grasping it by the barrel. Ready! He launched himself through the doors, swung the stock of the shotgun and cracked it at the base of Shaun’s skull with a force that was almost erotic in its intensity.
Shaun toppled forward and Peter manhandled him to the floor, cautious at first until certain his brother wasn’t playing possum. He used gaffer tape to secure Shaun’s hands to his feet and a short strip to cover his mouth. He stood over his nemesis, finally able to confront and control the person who had tormented him all these years.
It felt fantastic.
Suzie was clattering pans in the kitchen and he followed the noise. She must have heard him coming as, although engrossed, her head almost in the oven, she spoke.
‘Can you pour me some wine? I’m almost done.’ She reversed out of the oven and turned. Peter watched, fascinated as the lasagne she was lifting out slipped from her oven gloves and splattered at her feet, a bubbling mess of red sauce and white pasta.
She skipped back, an automatic response to the scalding sensation on her legs, her mouth wide, ready to scream. But Peter had a finger to his lips, and more effectively, his weird eyes on hers. Vivid red, no white to be seen. If that didn’t get her attention, nothing would.
Everything was tinged a vague pink from his new contact lenses. He rather liked the effect, it brought to mind the term rose-tinted spectacles, and he could finally understand what that really meant. More importantly, he’d been startled at the effect when he had seen how he looked in the optician’s, and could now see the impact on Suzie. He was well chuffed.
The idea was to mimic the eyes of an albino cobra. Like the one he asked his father to buy him as a boy. The pet he never had because of his brother.
He grinned at her, the shotgun aimed at her midriff, dropped his finger from his mouth and said, ‘You always were a clumsy bint. Is that the best you can do to welcome your brother-in-law? Chuck his dinner on the floor? Tut! And after all these years...’
‘Please don’t hurt us. We’ve done nothing – ’
‘Hah!’ Peter’s laugh was a raucous rough sound, a hasp file grinding steel. ‘Right, Suzie. You really believe that?’
She was cowering, had backed up to the kitchen sink, as far from him as possible. He stepped over the mess on the floor and moved in close to her, making a show of breathing in her scent. She flinched as he brushed a hand down her cheek, a tender lover’s touch.
; ‘He framed me. You married him. Call that nothing my little Suzie?’
He pressed himself against her, excited, wanting nothing more than to possess her again.
She spat in his eyes, tried to knee his groin, caught his rigid cock a passing blow. He smothered her resistance with his body as she hissed, ‘You’re disgusting. You raped me. You killed your parents. They should’ve hung you!’
His moment of triumph was not as he had wanted. He needed her to understand. He screamed in her face, his breath a gale, a hurricane of torment released in fury. ‘It was Shaun! All of it!’
He felt his erection ebb away, the excitement replaced with frustration. Why wouldn’t she believe him?
There was a smidgeon of doubt in her eyes, then nothing.
‘Liar... You always were a liar. Even when we were together.’
He slapped her then. She fell and crawled away, slipping in the sauce, the grease slicked tiles giving no purchase for her scrabbling claws. Then he kicked her in the side of the head, yelling at her, his foot pumping again and again, at her ribs, her belly, her legs, repeating with every blow, ‘It was Shaun. It was Shaun. Always Shaun.’
‘Mummy!’ A little boy in pyjamas, barefoot, a teddy bear dangling from his hand, ran into the room and started kicking Leech’s own shins, howling at him, ‘Leave my mummy alone!’
***
‘You must be Billy. I’m your uncle Peter.’
Leech had the boy pinned to his body as he hauled him back upstairs. Billy was quiet now, his confusion apparent, his burst of aggression quelled by the giant now carrying him to his room.
‘I’ve been away a while and I need to talk with your mummy and daddy. So I want you to wait in your room until I tell you to come out.’
He checked several rooms, eventually found one that was obviously the boy’s and placed him on the bed.
‘I need to put some of this on you.’ The lad cowered, scurrying to the end of the bed, eyes wide, pupils dilated from shock. ‘Billy, please don’t make me hurt you, because I will. You hear me? I’ve got no quarrel with you.’
Billy lay still, passive, Leech binding him, leaving the little lad hog-tied, lying face down on his bed.
Leech went back to the kitchen and dragged Suzie to her feet. She was a dead weight and he wondered if he had killed her. He checked her neck for a pulse and, satisfied she was merely unconscious, threw her over his shoulder and took her to the master bedroom.
Their home was beautiful and Peter could not contain his jealousy as he thought of all the years he’d been deprived while they lived in the lap of luxury.
He tossed her on the bed, considered stripping her and fucking her but he was no longer aroused, and anyway, her face was all messed up from his blows. She had put on weight too. He felt let down, his expectations, even of that simple pleasure, ruined by the reality.
He spread-eagled her and taped her wrists and ankles to the bed posts. He did not bother with a gag. Blood dribbled from her mouth, and her ruined features left him regretting his temper tantrum. He should have fucked her first.
He cocked his head, comparing the Suzie of today with the girl he had known. Even allowing for the extra weight, he had not felt the same attraction for her when he had seen her in the kitchen. The reality was just not as appealing as he remembered. Was it because she was his brother’s? Had been Shaun’s wife? Mothered his son?
He was not sure, just knew he felt nothing for her. His childhood obsession had translated into something else. He took the tattered photo of his Birdy from his pocket – now she was beautiful. He tucked it back, patted Suzie on the head and said, ‘Sorry doll. You’re past it.’
He tramped down the stairs wondering why he felt so hollow. He should be happy. Oh well, he thought, it’s not over yet.
Shaun groaned as Peter lifted him in his arms like a toddler. He carried his semi-conscious brother up the stairs, all the while chatting to the unresponsive ears.
‘Bet you were surprised to see me. Bit different to how I was when they banged me up. I s’pose you expect me to thank you for that – making a man out of me? Well, you can fuck off!’
He dropped his brother to the bedroom floor, eliciting another deep throated moan, and fetched a hard wooden chair, propped his brother in a sitting position and then taped him in place, his feet and hands now bound together, the knees up, feet perched on the seat. He taped his brother’s torso to the chair back, trapping his arms too, securing his brother exactly as he wanted. He was on his second roll of tape, but still had plenty for his finale.
‘Comfy?’ He stood back and viewed his handiwork. Shaun gurgled, gave off a few muffled grunts and gradually came to, finally focusing on the red-eyed apparition before him. Confusion telegraphed through his own eyes, but no fear.
Peter ripped the tape from Shaun’s mouth.
‘What? Don’t you recognise your own brother? Must be my red eyes... These funky contacts?’ He swelled his chest with pride, rippling his shoulder muscles for effect. ‘Or is it my stunning physique?’ He thrust his face up close to his brother’s. ‘Take a good gander – ’
The head butt was fearsome and took him by surprise. Shaun’s head whiplashed, his forehead connecting with the bridge of Peter’s nose. Peter felt the bones fragment under the impact, the crunching sound audible to both of them, the exquisite pain blinding him, sending him staggering back, his world dimming as his brain rattled in his skull. One of his contact lenses flew out from the force, and many men less well conditioned, less able to withstand pain, would have succumbed and collapsed from the blow.
‘FUCK!’
Peter cupped his hands as the blood gushed, some clods of tissue, nasal membrane, dropping onto his fingers. He was dazed. He had forgotten how dangerous Shaun could be. Peter’s ears whistled from the blow, but he heard Shaun’s words, his brother’s voice knifing into him, slashing at his confidence.
‘You’re still an ugly, useless, pathetic piece of shit. Looks like I’m not the only one who’s tried to re-shape your face.’ His guttural laugh echoed in the room.
He still has power over me! He cringed inside.
For a minute he stood frozen, the familiar self-pity of his childhood consuming him, nasal blood pooling in his palms, his day ruined yet again.
But surely he was still in control...
The voice continued to needle him.
‘You’ve put on some weight boy, I’ll give you that. Why not release me. Do this properly. Let’s see if those prison muscles are any good in a real fight. That is, unless you’ve turned queer after all those years of taking it up the arse! Is that it?’
The tone was hard, sharp as flint, striking, slashing at his brain.
No. I am in control.
‘You always were a coward... Tell you what. I’ll even let you use a knife, you gutless poof. Just to make it more equal.’
The sneer that had featured so much in his life finally roused him. Peter hefted a shotgun, pointed it at his brother’s face, his own features a grotesque mask of hatred, and fingered the trigger.
‘Don’t tempt me...’ But he was seeing double, now not sure if the pink tinge to his sight was blood or the remaining contact. He groped his way to the ensuite, took a towel and staunched the flow of blood. The other contact dropped into the sink as he stood over it, massaging his eyes and tenderly testing the bridge of his damaged nose.
He could hear the insidious voice still taunting him. ‘I see you’ve thumped Suzie. She’s about your level. Yeah. Or maybe Billy! That would be a fair match for you... bearing in mind he takes after his dad! You’re just scared of me. Always have been. Come on you fucking chicken!’
Peter stared in the mirror at his flattened nose, thinking his brother sounded like he should be in a playground. Peter was not stupid. He refused to let the bastard get to him. He would stick to his plan.
He returned to Suzie, but addressed Shaun. ‘I could shoot you now. But you aren’t going to get off so lightly. All my life you’ve bullied
and tormented me. Even stole her...’
She was coming to, her face swollen, a reminder of his own a few days before.
Shaun spoke to his back. ‘You haven’t got it in you. You’re a wimp. Always have been. Always will be...’
Suzie moaned as Peter slapped her face, trying to bring her round. He said to Shaun, ‘I’ve killed better men than you. And I’ve always got away with it... I planned to rape her. Staple your eyelids, make you watch.’
‘Try it, fatboy. I’m helpless... How’s that nose doing?’ Shaun guffawed at his little brother.
‘Then I was going to do the same to Billy.’ He turned to Shaun, leered at him. ‘Thanks to you I’m not so fussy these days.’ He turned back to Suzie, patting her back to wakefulness, her eyes still not registering. ‘I was then going to skin them alive. Before cremating you like you cremated Sam. It was the worst thing I could think of. I wanted to hear you scream like my puppy.’
‘Dream on little brother. Now, let me go and I’ll forgive you. How about that?’
Peter’s loathing for his brother sky-rocketed.
‘FORGIVE ME!’
He hoisted a shotgun by its barrel, swung it over his shoulder and drove the stock down onto Shaun’s right knee.
The animal scream, the rage and pain erupting from his brother’s mouth, brought him some satisfaction at last, pulling his temper back to earth.
‘That’s better. I usually find a busted kneecap a good cure for verbal diarrhoea. Now, you smug bastard, where was I?’
He checked Suzie again, to see if she was alert now. She was still moaning but her eyes were open and he wanted to know if she could hear him.
‘Yeah. I was gonna rape Suzie and Billy. Skin them alive – ’
‘No. Please.’ Suzie’s voice trembled as she spoke, any fight now beaten out of her.
‘Force Shaun to watch, but then I realised there was no point.’ He skewered Suzie with his eyes, wiping blood from his face with the towel as he spoke. ‘It wouldn’t do any good. You see, Suzie... He doesn’t care... About you. About Billy. About anyone, except himself.’
Remorseless: A British Crime Thriller (Doc Powers & D.I. Carver Investigate #1) Page 29