Psychological Thriller Series: Adam Stanley Boxed Set: Behind Shadows, Positively Murder and Mind Bender

by Netta Newbound

  “Okay.”

  “Even if you accepted you must do what they said, when it came down to it, you would be so nervous. The gun would most definitely shake. The shots would be all over the place, and afterwards you’d run from the scene like a crazy woman. Everyone around you would sense something was terribly wrong.”

  “I guess.”

  “Now put yourself in the other person’s shoes. You committed murder only days before. You take fifty grand of your hard earned money to a meeting you know is going to end with you getting shot three times. How would you feel?”

  “Terrified. Emotional.”

  “What would you be like when you’re leaving home for the last time?”

  “Heartbroken. I’d be tearful, and wanting to say my last goodbyes.”

  “Exactly. But not one of our victims behaved this way.”

  “So it seems we’re back to the alien theory, then.” Frances laughed. “Good luck with getting that past your bosses.”

  I chuckled. “Imagine their faces at the team briefing in the morning if I kicked off with that?”

  We were both still howling with laughter by the time we pulled up at the station.

  Chapter 25

  “Get in there.” Andrew gave a satisfied roar and several whoops before slamming the ping pong ball and bat down on the table. “You owe me a Mars bar. Come on. Cough up.”

  “Double or quits,” suggested Menzies, his greasy-haired opponent.

  “No, thanks. I don’t even like fuckin’ Mars bars.”

  “How about a large block of fruit and nut?”

  “Do you even have one, or are you just bullshitting me?”

  “I’ve got one. Ask the old man if you don’t believe me.”

  Andrew glanced at Stan, the bald-headed geriatric sitting at the side of the wall acting as the umpire.

  “I can vouch he had one last night, but I don’t fancy your chances—he’s probably eaten it already,” Stan scoffed.

  “Do you want a fucken slap, old man?” Menzies said. His Newcastle accent was strong.

  “What? I’m only saying.”

  Menzies pulled himself up to his full height, all five foot six inches of him. “Well don’t.” He turned back to Andrew. “Would I lie to you mate? It’s yours if you win one round—best of three.”

  “One more, but if you’re blagging me, you’re dead.”

  They played for another half hour or so, and Andrew took the match once again. “Don’t forget to pay up. A nice bar of fruit and nut will go down nicely with my cuppa later.”

  Menzies stormed off, kicking a couple of chairs in temper.

  Stan chortled. The delight in his screwed-up, toothless face caused Andrew to belly laugh.

  He made his way back to his cell, clocking Dean, his cellmate, who was engrossed in an intense game of cards down the hall. Once there, he slid his hand down the side of his bed and pulled out the zip-lock bag, half-full of blood. He squeezed the bag and moved the contents around, before stashing it back down the side of the bed.

  Andrew smiled. Not long now.

  Chapter 26

  Grayson arrived home just before five o’clock, after an afternoon catching up on paperwork and ringing around some new and existing clients. Mary-Kate and Daniel, his sales team, managed the residential properties between them, leaving only the commercial side of the business to him.

  Stacey, his receptionist, cleaner and general dogsbody, sorted everything else in his absence, and he only needed to do her wages and the commission payouts, plus write a few cheques.

  He noticed his mum’s Micra still parked on the street, and his stomach growled. He would be sure of a good meal at least.

  Letting himself in, he stood in the hallway sensing something wrong. He listened, but could hear nothing—no sound at all.

  He tentatively pushed the lounge door open, waiting for somebody to leap out at him at any moment. He let out a long sigh as he took in the sight before him.

  His mum lay curled up on the aubergine-coloured two-seater settee hugging a scatter cushion to her chest. Paula was spark out on the three-seater, but the most surprising sight of all were the two little tots sleeping soundly in the twin bassinet in the centre of the room.

  Grayson placed his briefcase by the door and tiptoed past everyone into the kitchen, holding his breath as he closed the door behind him.

  Bliss! He couldn’t remember the last time he had the place to himself.

  He eased a bottle of Heineken out of the fridge and used the magnetic opener on the fridge door before taking a deep draw on the neck of the bottle. He picked up the evening paper that he rarely got to read nowadays, although it was delivered every day. He sat at the dining table relishing the peace and quiet.

  A short time later, Paula padded into the kitchen rubbing her eyes and yawning. “Hi,” she whispered, before kissing him on the cheek.

  “Are they still asleep?”

  “All three of them.” She giggled.

  “Don’t you laugh. You were snoring, too, when I got home.”

  “I don’t snore!” She flung her arm out playfully, hitting him in the chest.

  “How long have they been asleep?”

  “A couple of hours. Maybe I should wake them. They might not sleep tonight.”

  “Don’t you dare!” Grayson said, shaking his head. “Chances are they won’t sleep, anyway. Let’s have a cuppa in peace while we can.”

  “I guess you’re right. Your mum made a casserole. It’s in the oven. I just need to boil some potatoes.”

  “Sit down. I’ll make you a drink first.” He jumped up and pulled another chair out for her.

  She slid down onto it and sighed. “Perhaps they’re over the worst. It seems like ages since they both slept at the same time.”

  “It has been ages. I was beginning to think they’d never sleep again.”

  “Me, too.” Her laugh lit her face briefly.

  He felt emotional all of a sudden, and his chest ached as he realised he’d missed her beautiful smile. He bent down and kissed the tip of her nose.

  “What was that for?”

  “Because I love you. Look, no-one said it’d be easy having a baby at our age, never mind two of the little beggars. But I can’t tell you the fright I had when I got home. The silence gave me a feeling of dread, and I almost burst into tears when I saw you all asleep!”

  “You watch too many murder mysteries. Anyway, how did you get on today?”

  “Yeah, good.”

  “Did Deveraux like the offices? I hope you told him there’s nothing else like them around, and he’d have to go to ...”

  “I told him,” he cut in. “And he seemed impressed, but you know what he’s like—always wants something for nothing. No doubt he’ll come back in a few days and make a ridiculous offer.”

  “Wanker!”

  “My sentiments exactly.”

  “Who’s a wanker?” His mum said, appearing behind them. Her usually neatly pressed clothing, was rumpled and untidy.

  “Oh, hi, Mum.” He rose from his chair and kissed her on the top of her frizzy brown hair. “Here you are. Sit yourself down.” He eased her into the seat he’d just vacated. “Let me get you a cup of tea.”

  “Ah, you’re a good boy, Grayson. I feel quite groggy sleeping like that in the day. I don’t know what came over me.”

  “I do! There are two of them, about this big.” He held his hands before him as a fisherman might. “And cute to boot.”

  “Did you see them? Sound asleep. I wanted to take a photo, but I didn’t want to wake them.”

  Grayson smiled as he placed a cup in front of his dear old mum.

  “They’re due a feed soon,” Paula said. “Don’t get too used to the silence.”

  “It makes a change to be able to have an adult conversation that doesn’t include nappies, gripe water, Bonjela or formula.”

  “Go on. You were about to tell me about the wanker.”

  “Mum!” he exclaimed. No ma
tter how many times he witnessed his mum use bad language, it always sounded alien to his ears.

  “What? I was only repeating what you said.”

  Paula laughed, and Grayson shook his head.

  “I was talking about some bloke who’s interested in an office block we have on our books. He’s got more money than sense, yet he still penny pinches. He’d mug his own grandmother if he thought he’d make a few bob.”

  Sounds of one of the babies waking carried into the kitchen. “I’ll get him before he wakes the other,” Grayson said.

  He crept into the lounge and stared into the bassinet. The sight of his two darlings took his breath away. He was consumed with an overpowering sensation of love, which surprised him. He’d not felt this strongly for the twins before now, although he remembered the feeling clearly from when Elsa was a baby.

  He lifted Jack into his arms, and the baby nuzzled his little face into Grayson’s neck, clearly hungry, but the sensation reminded him of teeny kisses. He inhaled the scent of his eldest son. Jack had been born a whole twelve minutes earlier than his brother, Sam. Although identical, he and Paula could only tell them apart because of the different coloured wristbands his mum had made from scraps of wool.

  He glanced at Sam, still sleeping soundly, before tiptoeing back to the kitchen.

  “Shall I turn the potatoes on?” his mum asked.

  “I can do that, Brenda,” Paula said, getting to her feet.

  “Sit yourself there a while longer.” His mum got up and placed a hand on her daughter-in-law’s shoulder. “And do as you’re told.”

  “Well, if you insist.” Paula smiled and held out her arms for Grayson to hand over her son.

  “Do any of you ladies mind if I watch the news?”

  They both shook their heads, and Grayson reached into the fruit bowl for the remote, and then aimed it at the portable TV in the corner of the room.

  After a few noisy adverts, the news headlines made them all stop and stare.

  ‘Another shooting in Pinevale town centre today leaves a woman dead.’

  The newscaster waffled on about the day’s other headlines for a few moments before returning to the main story.

  ‘Pinevale police are yet to release the identity of their latest victim. The body was found at ten thirty-five this morning in Brewster’s multi-storey carpark in the town centre. They are appealing for any witnesses to come forward. It is believed the gunman was in his late forties, and wearing a suit and tie. He had dark hair and drove a navy blue or black car—believed to be an Alpha Romeo.’

  “Shit, babe. That could be you!” Paula said, her eyes wide open.

  Grayson laughed. “Oh, yeah, that’s right. I forgot to mention I ran over there this morning, shot a woman in cold blood before legging it to my eleven o’clock appointment with Devereaux.”

  “You know what I mean. She’s just described you to a tee. What if someone confused you for the killer?”

  “How? I was nowhere near the place.”

  “Anyway, don’t joke about it, Gray.” His mother swiped him with a tea-towel. “That poor woman was a local. We probably even know her.”

  “No doubt we’ll hear soon enough,” he said.

  Chapter 27

  Amanda’s nerves were on edge by the time Sandra arrived, as promised, to accompany Emma on her special day.

  After dropping Jacob and Mary off, they headed to the infants. They had already met Emma’s teacher and been given a tour of the classroom the week before the holidays. Emma remembered where to go, leading the way with confidence.

  Sandra smiled and shook her head as they followed. “She’s been here before, that one,” she whispered. “Old head on young shoulders.”

  “You’re telling me.” Amanda chuckled.

  They hung back as they watched her hang her coat and bag on the already-named hook. “You can go now, Mummy,” she said.

  “Are you sure?”

  Emma nodded.

  Amanda glanced at the other parents. Some were staying, but most were kissing their children goodbye.

  “What do you think?” she asked Sandra.

  Sandra shrugged. “She seems okay, and the teacher will be here soon.”

  Just then, Mrs Howkins appeared around the corner carrying an armful of files.

  “I’ll be here to pick you up. Wait right here for me, won’t you, Emma?” Amanda said.

  “I will, Mummy.” Emma hugged Amanda’s waist and ran into the classroom without so much as a backward glance.

  “Fancy a cuppa?” Sandra asked, rubbing Amanda’s arm.

  “Yeah, why not?”

  They headed to the nearest coffee shop, and Sandra ordered a fancy coffee and a croissant. Amanda couldn’t stomach much and settled on a standard filter coffee.

  “Why don’t you have a cake? My treat,” Sandra urged.

  “I don’t fancy anything. I had a slice of toast before you arrived this morning,” she lied. Her stomach was in knots, and she alternated between staring at her watch and staring at the clock on the wall.

  “It’s going to be a long day if you don’t stop that,” Sandra scolded, nodding at Amanda’s wrist.

  She sighed and pulled the sleeve of her knitted cotton top down.

  “What do you intend doing with the rest of your day?” Sandra asked.

  “I haven’t even thought about it. Why?”

  “I could do with a new pair of winter boots and want to go into the city to my favourite store. Do you fancy a trip?”

  Amanda shrugged.

  “Come on. It’s got to be better than moping around here all day.”

  “What if Emma doesn’t settle, and I need to pick her up? I think I’m better off staying here.”

  “Are we talking about the same girl? Miss Cocky Knickers? She’ll have them all eating out of her hand by now.”

  “I s’pose you’re right.”

  “I know I am. Now come on, drink up.”

  ***

  Easing her Rav 4 into a parking space, Frances contemplated getting the hell out of there. She knew she had no choice but to go through with it, however. And besides, Adam had agreed she could have time off specifically for this appointment. There was no way she could continue with her job in light of what happened last week. The cat had turned her into a basket case.

  She wiped her sweaty palms on the legs of her jeans and headed across the car park towards the single storey brick building. The huge lump in her stomach tightened as the automatic double doors swished open.

  She entered the practice, wanting nothing more than to turn and flee the building, but the bubbly, blonde receptionist beckoned her in, flashing the straightest, whitest full set of teeth Frances had ever seen. She subconsciously ran her tongue over her own slightly crooked teeth, just one of the many things she hated about herself.

  “Can I help you? I’m Charlie, come on in,” she said without pausing for breath. Frances liked her immediately.

  “I have an appointment, Frances—er ... Holly Frances.”

  “Ah, yes. That’s right. I will need a few more details, Holly. You don’t mind if I call you Holly, do you?”

  Frances shook her head.

  “Ah, good. Fill this form in, and Doctor Owens will be with you in two ticks.” She handed Frances a clipboard with a New Patient form fastened to it. “Take a seat if you like.” She flashed another warm smile.

  Frances sat on the grey plastic chair while she filled out the form, then she placed the clipboard back on the desk.

  “You nervous?” asked Charlie, tucking a stray curl behind her ear.

  “Is it that obvious?”

  Charlie screwed up her nose and gave a little nod.

  Frances laughed.

  “You’re in good hands. All our specialists are super-sensitive and will look after you, I promise.”

  We turned at the swish of the double doors opening, and a man who appeared to be in his sixties shuffled in. He dragged one leg uncomfortably, yet he didn’t use a wal
king stick or anything.

  “Good morning, beautiful,” he said to Charlie.

  “Hi Nige—oops, sorry. I mean, Doctor Smith.”

  He tipped his cap towards Frances and smiled before heading through the door to the side of reception.

  “He seems nice,” she said once the door had closed behind him.

  “He’s lovely. I told you. Our specialists are the best.”

  “Am I seeing him?”

  “No, but Doctor Owens is just as lovely.” Her gaze settled on a point beyond Frances’s shoulder.

  “Holly?”

  She gasped and whipped her face around to see a tall, handsome man, in his mid-to-late forties, had appeared beside her.

  He chuckled. “Sorry to startle you.”

  Frances tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a growl from a pissed-off bulldog.

  He didn’t seem to be fazed by it at all. He stepped forward and shook her hand, placing his other hand on the top of hers, a sincere smile on his face. “Christian Owens. Pleased to meet you. Do you want to come this way?”

  Frances picked up her bag from the floor and glanced at Charlie who gave her another stunning smile, accompanied by a cheeky wink.

  She followed him into a bright and airy room, decorated in pastel blues with Laura Ashley style curtain fabric and matching seat covers. As well as the desk and two high-backed chairs, another pair of pale blue recliners sat either side of the window.

  “Please, take a seat.” He indicated the high-back chair opposite his.

  He began flicking through the notes in front of him.

  “Are you unemployed, Holly?”

  “No. I just hate putting all my personal information down on forms.”

  “I see.” He glanced up and smiled before continuing to read.

  “I’m a police officer. Detective actually. CID.”

  “And you have a feline phobia?”

  “I’m scared of cats, yes.”

  He closed the manila folder and leaned back in his chair. “Tell me when this problem first occurred.”

  “I’ve always hated cats for as far back as I can remember.”