Call It Pretending (#3 - D.I. Paolo Storey Crime Series)

by Frances di Plino

  StormyC: I was thinking of it, but parking is going to be a pain.

  The clergyman: No, there’s a multi-storey opposite.

  StormyC: I hadn’t thought of that. Is it safe at night?

  The clergyman: It’s where I’m planning to park. I can’t see it being a problem.

  StormyC: In that case I’ll see you there. What time are you going?

  The clergyman: I thought I’d get there about ten. No point in going early.

  StormyC: I can’t believe we’re going to meet at last. Butterflies here.

  The clergyman: Me too. Tell me, do you look as gorgeous in real life as you do in your avatar? I mean, that is you, isn’t it? I will be able to recognise you?

  StormyC: You’ll know it’s me. Don’t worry about that. What about you? Is that a recent image, or are you really ten years older?

  The clergyman: It’s me, sweetie. I look exactly like my photo. Shall we meet somewhere first and go together, or meet up in the club.

  StormyC: Let’s meet in the club. I’m not sure what time I’ll be able to get there.

  The clergyman: You will come, won’t you?

  StormyC: Now that’s a double entendre if ever I saw one. Let’s hope we both do.

  The clergyman: Naughty! I’ll see you later.

  StormyC: Definitely. Put your phone on vibrate. I’ll call you when I’m inside.

  The clergyman: No comment on that! lol

  The pretender shut down his laptop and pondered what to wear. This was going to be his trickiest disguise yet. He’d been watching the gay bars to see what the standard dress code was, but it seemed to vary from place to place. He’d just have to hope his smartest outfit would be good enough to pass if anyone saw him hanging around outside. There was no fear of being recognised by Peter or anyone else from the chat room site. The avatar he’d been using he’d copied from one of the members of a chat room devoted to gays in Aberdeen. The only possible flaw in his plan would be if Peter didn’t take the bait. If that happened he’d have to resort to plan B, which would mean a long wait hiding out in the car park.

  Standing in the shadow of a shop window next to the club’s entrance, the pretender watched as Peter Bishop crossed the road from the car park and entered the club. He had no intention of going in himself. Apart from the fact that years had passed since he’d been anywhere near a club of any kind, he’d never been inside a gay club. He’d most probably be picked out as heterosexual before he’d even ordered a drink.

  Now that he knew Peter was inside, it was time to move across to the car park and find out which level he’d parked on. The pretender had taken the bus. Less chance of being caught on CCTV. It didn’t matter too much if the cameras did catch a glimpse of him. Under the hoodie, he was wearing a dark wig, glasses and false teeth. He looked completely unlike his normal persona, but putting a car registration on film was a risk too far.

  He strolled along the ground level, but couldn’t see Peter’s car. That was a relief. There was less chance of being spotted on the upper floors. Down here, anyone passing could glance in. He took the stairs to level one, but the car wasn’t there either. Better and better. He finally located it on level four, which was almost deserted, but luckily had a few other cars parked. Scanning the cars, he picked a black BMW furthest from the lifts and stairs as his decoy. It was parked mainly in shadow, which would make his story seem plausible. He needed to act quickly, just in case more clubbers decided to use the car park.

  Pulling out his mobile phone, he called Peter’s number. It rang for quite a while and he worried Peter might not have switched it to vibrate as he’d asked. A ring tone probably wouldn’t be heard above the music. He sagged with relief when he heard Peter’s voice.

  “Where are you, sweet cheeks? I’m looking all around and can’t spot you.”

  “I’m not in the club. I’m in the car park opposite.”

  “What are you doing there? Come over. It’s buzzing in here.”

  “I can’t. You’ll never believe what I’ve done. I drove here wearing my glasses and went to put my contacts in just now and I’ve dropped one. I can’t find it.”

  “You want me to come and help you look?”

  “There’s no need for that,” he said, injecting as much pathos into his voice as he could. “I’ll carry on searching. I just wanted you to know I hadn’t stood you up. There’ll be another time.”

  “Can’t you put your glasses on and come over?”

  “I would, but the contacts are brand new. Top of the range. Cost me a freaking fortune. I can’t afford to replace them.”

  The pretender could hear the music throbbing in the background. This wasn’t going to work. Peter wasn’t going to fall for it.

  “What level are you on?”

  “What?”

  “In the car park, what level are you on?”

  “Level four.”

  “How’s that for coincidence. I’m also parked on four. We’re obviously meant to be together tonight. I’ll be over in a few minutes.”

  “You are such a honey. I knew there was something special about you the moment we started chatting.”

  “See you in a bit,” Peter said.

  The pretender ended the call and pulled the syringe from his pocket. Filling the well with liquid, he knelt down and put it under the BMW. As long as he stayed on his knees Peter wouldn’t be able to see him when he came up. He hoped the man wouldn’t be long. Kneeling on the cold concrete was agony. Eventually, he heard the sound of the lift mechanism. The lift stopped and he listened as the doors opened.

  Footsteps clattered loudly in the silence. Was it Peter, or someone come to claim a car?

  “Where are you?”

  “Over here,” the pretender called back. “Black BMW. I’m looking underneath using my phone as a torch, but can’t see the contact.”

  As the footsteps approached, the pretender reached for the syringe.

  “Let’s see if my eyes are better than yours,” Peter said.

  As a man’s shadow fell on the car, the pretender turned and stabbed the syringe into Peter’s thigh, depressing the plunger.

  “What the fuck?”

  Peter fell, his body shaking as it went into shock. Within seconds, he’d stopped moving. The pretender searched Peter’s pockets until he found the car keys. Lifting himself up, he held onto the BMW for a few moments. Nausea made his stomach heave. Why wasn’t this getting easier? Why wasn’t he getting the rush of satisfaction he craved? Pulling himself together, he forced his feet to move in the direction of Peter’s car. He needed to move quickly in case someone came up. Unlocking the car, he opened the driver’s door as wide as possible, pushed the seat back to give him lots of room to manoeuvre and then went back to fetch Peter’s body.

  Putting his hands under Peter’s armpits, he heaved upwards. Fuck, for such a scrawny little man, he was really heavy. The pretender managed to drag Peter across the floor to his car and manhandled him into the driver’s seat.

  He felt all the pockets until he located Peter’s phone, which he placed in his own pocket. As he did so, Peter’s keys fell to the floor. This time he knew he didn’t need to worry about picking them up. Peter Bishop certainly wouldn’t be driving anywhere. Taking an envelope from his back pocket, he placed it on the dashboard and shut the door.

  He’d reached the halfway mark.

  ***

  Paolo glanced at the bedside clock. It was nearly eleven.

  “What time have you set your alarm for tomorrow?”

  Jessica snuggled deeper into his embrace. “Five. I need to leave here no later than six.”

  “I’d better go,” Paolo said, but made no move to leave. This was as close to heaven as it was possible to be while still breathing. He didn’t want to move.

  “Mmm, in a minute,” Jessica said.

  “You’ll be tired tomorrow if you don’t go to sleep soon.”

  “I know, but I can nap on the train. I’ll be fine. Can I ask you something? You don�
�t have to tell me if you would rather not.”

  “Sure, what do you want to know?”

  “Why do you never talk about your mother? You’ve told me lots about your dad and how much you missed him after he had his heart attack, but you never mention your mother. Were you not close to her?”

  Paolo’s body stiffened. “Are you asking as a shrink?”

  Jessica sat up and looked at him. “No, I’m asking because I care about you. If you’d rather not talk about her, that’s okay.”

  Paolo lay there thinking about his mother and how much he’d loved her. He’d never yet put into words what happened the day she died and wasn’t sure he could now. But he’d lost Lydia by not sharing his feelings, was he prepared to take the chance on losing Jessica the same way?

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,” Jessica said, snuggling back down against his chest. “Let’s talk about what we’re going to do in two weeks’ time when I get back.”

  “My mother was the only girl. She had four brothers and they were bad news.”

  Paolo felt Jessica’s body go still. He was amazed the words had come out. He hadn’t meant them to, but now he’d started he didn’t want to stop.

  “The family lived in Southeast London, all very close to each other, and I now know, but didn’t at the time, the brothers were up to their necks in petty crime. My dad told me afterwards that he’d known they were into all sorts of minor stuff, but as long as they didn’t drag my mother into it, he tolerated them for her sake.”

  He felt his pulse racing and tried to calm his breathing.

  “Did she know what her brothers were doing?” Jessica asked.

  “I don’t know. Dad said she didn’t, but she might have done and turned a blind eye to it. I’d like to think she believed they were innocent. She was a devout Catholic, but apparently the brothers were all regulars at mass and confession, so what did being devout prove?”

  “What happened? Did she find out about them?”

  Paolo shuddered. “She certainly knew before she died.”

  His mind went back to the day of her death, the events appearing in his mind on a loop, like a YouTube video set to continuous replay.

  “I don’t know what they did, but somehow they trespassed onto the territory of some really bad people. My uncles went into hiding, taking some property with them that belonged to the people they’d crossed. My mother didn’t know where they were. If she had maybe…if she…she…”

  He was surprised to find his face wet because he hadn’t been aware he was crying. There were no sobs, no shuddering, just a constant flow of water from his eyes. Jessica’s voice soothed him, telling him he didn’t need to go on, but he did. If he didn’t get it out now, the story would remain locked inside him forever.

  “One morning she looked out of the window and stopped what she was doing. She stood like a statue, the butter knife in her hand and toast on the plate, but no longer bringing the two together. Then she dropped the knife and swore. My mother never swore and laid into anyone who did, but that morning was different. She turned and grabbed my shoulders, told me to go upstairs and hide in my wardrobe. Said I mustn’t come down until she called me. No matter what. I should only come out for her voice, no one else’s. I’ll never forget the look on her face. She was terrified.”

  Still the silent tears flowed and Paolo wondered why he couldn’t cry properly. Let the emotion out, but he’d never been able to.

  “Whoever she’d seen started hammering on the front door. She shoved me towards the stairs, put her finger to her lips to tell me to keep quiet and then pointed up. I was so scared I scrambled up as fast as I could and climbed into the wardrobe, pulling the door behind me. I couldn’t get it to close properly and kept expecting it to fly open and someone to reach in and drag me out. And all the time I was in there, I could see that look of terror on my mother’s face. That was the last time I saw her alive.”

  “They killed her?”

  Paolo nodded. “The police found me in the wardrobe hours later. They thought the killers had come looking for the whereabouts of whatever it was my uncles had stolen, but they couldn’t prove anything. No one was prepared to stand up in court and say who they’d seen breaking down our front door. When my uncles came out of hiding I think they went after the killers. They certainly got involved in some gang warfare. After the funeral, my dad moved us here so that I wouldn’t grow up close enough to be corrupted by that side of my family.” He wiped his face with a tissue taken from the box on the bedside table. “It’s because of them that I joined the police force. I wanted to be the complete opposite of the people who’d killed my mother and that included my uncles. They were every bit as responsible for her murder as the bastards who did it.”

  “Paolo?”

  “Yes?”

  “What did you hear while you were in the wardrobe? Have you ever told anyone?”

  He shook his head.

  “Do you want to tell me? It will get the pictures out of your mind and into the open.”

  Paolo’s body trembled. He wanted to tell Jessica, but couldn’t bear it if she turned away from him. Better that she knew the truth about him from the outset. He was a coward who’d saved himself and left his mother to face her killers.

  “I can still hear her voice begging for them to stop. Screaming that she knew nothing – that she wasn’t involved with her brothers’ business. And even though I could hear how much pain she was in, I didn’t do anything to save her. I hid in the wardrobe while she screamed and begged for mercy and I did nothing. I loved her so much but I left her alone to face them.”

  Waves of anger and guilt flooded his body. And then the dam burst. Huge raking sobs made him gasp for breath. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, just lay there feeling as he had so many years earlier. Helpless, terrified and a weakling for saving himself and letting his mother die.

  He felt Jessica sit up and pull him roughly into her arms.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

  “I did nothing, Jessica. Nothing.”

  “Paolo, look at me. Now! Look at me.”

  Scared he would see only contempt in her eyes, he forced himself to face her.

  “What happened wasn’t your fault.”

  The look of understanding on her face brought a fresh wave of emotion to the surface. Maybe he wasn’t such a bad person. If someone like Jessica believed in him, knowing what she now did, maybe there was some hope for him after all.

  “You were a child and if they’d known you were there they probably would have tortured you to try to make your mother talk. You did what she told you to do. There was nothing else you could have done. Not a thing. You’ve held this in for too long. It’s time to forgive yourself.”

  As he sobbed in her arms, the six-year-old child that Paolo had once been, finally found peace.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Paolo woke up wondering what the noise was thundering through his brain. It stopped as suddenly as it started and he realised Jessica had reached out and switched off her alarm. Memories of his confession brought a hot flush surging through him. What must she think of him? His last waking thought was being held by her as he sobbed like a baby.

  Would she make some excuse not to see him again when she got back from her conference? If she did, he wouldn’t blame her. But then he remembered her words and the way she’d held him. He didn’t want to lose her. Why oh why had he told her about his mother? Nobody else knew what he’d heard that day, not even Lydia and he’d been head over heels in love with her since he was a teenager. He’d lied to the police and his dad and said he hadn’t heard a sound because he’d covered his ears with clothes, which was true, but his mother’s screams had penetrated the padding he’d put round his head. Her pleas were a memory he’d kept hidden, never to come into the open, and now he’d told the one person he really wanted to see him in a good light.

  Jessica turned back from the clock and laid her head on his chest
.

  “Good morning, sleepyhead. You’ll have to get your own breakfast this morning. I’ll eat on the train.”

  “Okay,” he said.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, why?”

  Jessica pushed herself up on one arm and looked straight into his eyes.

  “Is it about what you told me last night? Scared I might judge you and find you wanting?”

  Paolo nodded. He couldn’t find the words to express how he felt. Vulnerable, scared and uncertain all came close.

  “Paolo, this might be too soon. I don’t know if this is going to scare you off, but I love you. I’ve loved you since last year and I didn’t think I’d recover from the hurt when Lydia asked you to give your marriage another try. No, don’t say anything,” she said, putting her finger to his lips. “What happened to you as a child helped shape who you are today. I love the man you are now and I’d like to help the child you were to come to terms with your past.”

  He tried again to speak, but she leant forward and kissed him, stopping his words. “Don’t say anything,” she said when they came up for air. “We need to take things slowly. I just wanted you to know how I felt.” She grinned. “You still have to make your own breakfast, though, because I have to get up, get showered, get dressed and get going.”

  He held her, sensing that he didn’t need to say anything, and then let her go.

  “I’m not staying here again if I’m condemned to do it yourself catering. Last time I was served breakfast in bed.”

  Jessica laughed. “In that case, you owe me. Next time will be at your place and you can return the favour.”

  He threw the covers off. “I’ll put some clothes on while you get ready, then I’ll drop you off at the station on my way home.”

  As the train pulled away, Paolo shivered in the early morning air. It was only the beginning of the second week in August. The weather should still be good. Then he reminded himself it was only six o’clock, so it wasn’t surprising it was crisp. He headed back to his car. He’d be home in fifteen minutes. What to do first? Shower or sleep. The way he felt, sleep was definitely ahead in that race.