by Kit Tinsley
Addle nodded.
'Yeah, but I think the nice lady may be a few sandwiches short of a picnic,' Addle said. 'She went really weird while you were up in the attic.'
The memory of the attic sent a shiver down Tyler's spine for some reason.
'DCI Fluting thinks it's important for us to watch her, so there must be some risk.'
Addle sniggered a little.
'Let's face it, though, Fluting is clutching at straws. If some nutter told him the Pope had committed these murders, he would probably be asking for a search warrant for the Vatican.'
Tyler knew that Addle was only trying to lighten the mood, but his flippancy in the face of such heinous crimes seemed a little uncalled for to him.
'Lay off, Addle. He's had a rough time, but everyone says he's the best detective in the county.'
Addle looked shocked that his joke had been taken so seriously.
'All right,' he said. 'Jesus, I was just trying to make conversation.'
The house felt cold when Julia got inside, but then it always seemed to. The lights, though, were some comfort, as was the assurance from Tyler that the house was secure and there was no one there.
She saw the note from Steven on the dining table, but could not bring herself to read it. She knew she would have to confront him sooner or later, especially if Sam Fluting did release him, but right then she just wanted to distance herself from Steven and his secrets.
She went into the kitchen and began making the coffees for the two police officers valiantly guarding her outside.
She was just pouring the water into the mugs when the phone rang. Her heart stopped for a moment. What if it was Sam, saying that he was on his way back with Steven? She wasn't ready for that. She would have to call Wendy to come back and get her again.
She picked up the phone and nervously spoke.
'Hello?' she said into the receiver.
'Julia, darling,' Fran's voice boomed into her ears. 'Where have you been? I've been trying to get hold of you all day.'
Julia was glad to hear Fran's voice. She was often blunt to the point of being offensive, but she was a true friend to her, always there to listen.
'I've had an absolutely awful day,' hearing in her own voice that she was once again on the verge of tears.
'Get washed up, get dressed up, grab whatever new work you have and get to the bloody Lindum gallery,' Fran said.
The show. The one Fran had organised to keep people interested in her work. With everything that had taken place in the last few days she had completely forgotten. How could she go tonight? It was ludicrous.
'What?' No, I can't,'
'Julia,' Fran said sternly. 'The show starts in less than an hour. I've arranged for a lot of critics who like your work and several buyers to come all the way up from London. If you don't get your arse here and play the interesting, talented artist for them, it could mean the end of your career.'
Julia felt a wave of anger. Fran never minced words, but that had sounded almost like a threat.
'For fuck's sake, Fran, do you have any idea what I've been through today?'
Fran laughed.
'No, I don't. So why don't you tell me when you get here?'
Julia was going to answer back once more, but Fran hung up before she got the chance.
'Fuck it!' Julia shouted to the empty house as she slammed the phone back into its cradle.
There was no option. She had to go, as much as she didn't want to. She realised Fran's words had not been a threat, but a warning. As always, she was looking out for Julia's best interests, even if Julia wasn't herself.
She flicked the kettle back on, and started the process of making coffees for Tyler and Addle once again.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Steven sat at the little table in the interview room with his head in his hands. How had things gotten this far? Did they really suspect that he was the Lincoln Ripper?
Julia would have found the note by now. He wondered if she had been calling the station demanding his release and proclaiming his innocence, or whether she had believed the accusations.
The door opened and Sam Fluting came back into the room, this time accompanied by a young blonde woman. She looked no older than twenty, but Steven suspected she was just blessed with one of those ever youthful faces.
They took places opposite him. Steven sat up straight.
'I know you're keeping something from me,' Fluting said. 'If you just tell me, this would be a lot easier.'
Steven didn't know what to say.
'I didn't do it.' He heard the weakness in his own voice and hated himself for it.
Sam got to his feet, and Steven felt himself flinch, bracing himself for another attack.
'I believe you,' Fluting said. 'But I know that you are still keeping something from me. You haven't asked for a solicitor, so until you tell me what the big secret is, you're staying here.'
Surely this was wrong. He must have some rights, but he had willingly waived his right to a solicitor. He looked at the young woman.
'Do you think this is fair?' Steven asked.
For a moment it looked as though she was going to answer, then she looked at Fluting and changed her mind.
'I am PC Branning's superior, Doctor Draper,' Fluting said. 'In here she thinks whatever I tell her to. So come along, let's not waste any more time. What is your big secret?'
Steven stood up. He saw Sam move ready to defend himself. He didn't want to attack the detective though. Instead, he rubbed his temples. It felt like his head was about to explode. He didn't know what he could do.
'Come on, Steve? Fluting said, his tone full of reassurance that Steven guessed was probably fake. 'Just tell me and this can all come to an end. I'll take you home myself, if you just tell me.'
Steven couldn't take any more. He felt nothing but defeat. He slumped into his chair.
'I was having an affair,' he whispered.
'Louder please?' Fluting said. 'I didn't catch that, and I doubt the tape did either.'
'I was having an affair,' he shouted.
Fluting’s brow furrowed in confusion and he closed his eyes.
'That's your big secret?' Fluting said. 'That's what you weren't telling me?'
Steven felt embarrassed realising that he had been wasting their time.
'Yes, it's over. I ended it today, but I didn't want my wife to know.'
Fluting laughed a little.
'That's why I've been keeping you here?'
All Steven could manage was a nod, hanging his head in shame and wishing the Earth would swallow him up.
'Who with?' Fluting asked.
'The woman you saw leaving the house this afternoon. I'd just told her I didn't want to see her anymore.'
'Your nurse?' Fluting asked.
Steven was at first confused by the question. Then he remembered that he had told the detective that was who Ariel was earlier.
'Yes,' he said. 'Except, she's not a nurse.'
Fluting nodded.
'I know, I'd met Ariel before.'
There was a knock on the door. Fluting opened it, and Steven heard another man speak.
'Sorry to disturb you, sir,' the man said, 'but PC Tyler is on the radio and wants to speak to you.'
Sam nodded and turned back to Steven,
'I need to take this. Wait here, Doctor Draper. We'll be with you shortly,' he said. 'Branning?'
The young officer got up and followed Fluting out of the room. Steven was left alone, embarrassed and ashamed. He knew now that he had to tell Julia everything. She was stronger than he gave her credit for. He hoped they would be able to work through it, and that she could learn to trust him again. Even if she couldn't, even if she never wanted to see him again, she deserved the truth.
Julia had taken the coffees out for the two policemen watching the house. She had told them that she had to go out. Tyler had told her that he would contact Sam Fluting to find out what they should do.
She had returne
d to the house and rushed up to the attic. She had prepared no sketches as she had promised Fran she would. The only new work she had to show were two paintings that weren't really her own, and certainly weren't her style. She had nothing else. She considered taking the paintings, but changed her mind and headed downstairs. She wished to spend no more time up there in the studio than was necessary. The two recent paintings were too different from her usual work. If they were the beginning of a new phase, it would be better to wait until she had more work in that style before unveiling them to anyone.
She showered and got dressed in the dark blue cocktail dress she had bought for Steven and her last anniversary.
The memory of that night made her feel sad. They had been so happy that night. She had just had her most successful show of her career and everything had seemed like it was supposed to be. Of course then the breakdown had come along. She had spent so many years trying to run from the memories of her childhood, from all of the shit she had been put through. She had thrown her pain into her work, creating beauty out of her darkest memories.
However, the success she was experiencing had demanded more of her. She needed to work constantly in order to supply the demand for new Julia Draper paintings. Eventually it had all become too much. And the memories of all of the neglect and abandonment she had felt as a child had taken over her mind.
This was no time to dwell on these things though. She needed to get ready and get to the gallery.
She went downstairs, taking the freestanding mirror with her. She was sitting at the kitchen counter putting on her makeup when Tyler entered the room
'DCI Fluting says to go ahead to the gallery.’
That was not the plan. Earlier Sam had told her that if she had to go out, then he and Branning would follow her, leaving Tyler and Addle to watch the house.
'Isn't he going to follow me there?' she asked.
Tyler shook his head.
'He said it's only a few minutes away and it's a public place so you'll be safe. He just said to call him if you go anywhere other than home afterwards.'
'I don't even want to go to the gallery,' she said, putting on her mascara. 'So that won't be a problem.'
'Have a good night, Mrs Draper,.’
He turned to leave, but stopped when Julia spoke.
'Do you want me to leave the door open, so you two can help yourself to coffee?' she asked.
Tyler thought about it, and then shook his head.
'No. It'll be safer if you lock it. We'll stay outside and keep watch.'
'Okay, thanks,' Julia said.
Tyler exited the room. She heard the front door open and the policeman exit the house. She turned back to the mirror and continued with her make-up.
Once she was ready she went over to her large handbag she had been using that day and started to move the essentials into her clutch bag. Cigarettes, lighter, phone and chewing gum. While searching the inside pocket she found the ceremonial dagger that Helga had given her. She thought about leaving it, but then slipped it into the clutch bag, just in case.
Sam walked back into the interview room. Steven Draper was exactly as he had left him, slumped in his chair with his head in his hands. Sam stepped aside and let Branning enter the room first. She took her seat, and Steven looked up at her. Sam followed and sat opposite the doctor.
'I'm not going to be charging you, Doctor Draper.’
The relief was evident on Steven's face.
'Thank God.’
'You're free to go,' Sam continued. 'PC Branning and I can give you a lift home, once the appropriate paperwork has been taken care of.'
The doctor looked as though he would cry with relief. Though his eyes welled up a little, the tears didn't fall. He simply smiled.
'Thank you.’
Sam wasn't quite done with Doctor Draper yet though. There were still too many coincidences in all of this. Sam didn't like it when they stacked up like that. More often than not it meant they weren't coincidences at all, but connections. Though he was fairly certain that Steven was not the Lincoln Ripper, he still sensed there was a connection there. He just couldn't put his finger on it.
'One more thing, Doctor Draper,' Sam said. He saw the way that his words hit the doctor like a lead weight. 'I need a full name and address for your lover.'
Steven's eyes darted from Sam, to Branning, then back again, as if he was trying to figure out why they needed to know.
'Why?' he asked, when the reason was not forthcoming.
'First I need to corroborate your story,' Sam said. 'After all, even though I'm not charging you, you're still the only suspect we've had in six years. Second, something still doesn't quite fit together for me, and until it does I'm expecting your complete cooperation.'
Steven nodded eagerly.
'Of course,' he said. 'Anything I can do to help, I will.'
'Good,' Sam said. He handed a few forms to Branning. 'Branning will go through the forms with you. Now, your lover?'
'Ariel Phillips,' Steven said. 'She lives at Flat E, 120 Colby Street.'
Sam wrote the address down in his note pad. Then he stared at it, trying to understand what didn't add up.
'Colby Street? Here in the city?'
Steven nodded.
He was sure that Ariel had told him she lived in Darton, or had he just assumed that as she said she worked there? Either way, he was going to have to speak to her. He would make sure Branning went with him. He knew better than to interview a young woman on his own, especially one he was attracted to.
Sam got up and moved towards the door.
'Detective?' Steven said, as Sam was opening the door. He turned back to face him.
'Yes?'
Steven shifted in his seat, a worried expression crossing his face.
'Are you going to tell my wife? Are you going to tell Julia about Ariel?'
Sam thought about it. Part of him thought that the doctor deserved to be caught out for his cheating, but on the other hand, did Mrs Draper deserve the pain it would cause?
'Only if I have to,' Sam said. 'Maybe you should tell her yourself. If you love her, I mean.'
Who was he to give advice? He had ruined his own marriage by not letting his wife know how much she meant to him. If he could go back in time and tell her that she meant the world to him, he would. He would give up the Ripper case for her. Hell, he would quit the police force if that's what it took to prove it to her. It was too late now.
'Of course,' Steven said.
Sam nodded at him and left the room.
After she had left Julia, Wendy had gone home to eat. She had expected to find Paula and the kids there, but instead the house was empty. There was a note saying they had gone for pizza and were then heading to the cinema.
Wendy for the first time ever felt uneasy when alone in the house. She had lived there by herself before Paula got divorced and came to stay. She had always seen her home as her sanctuary, her quiet place in the world, away from the fast pace and backstabbing of the modeling industry. Now, though, she felt a chill down her spine, and the silence seemed oppressive. She flicked on the radio, just for some sound. It eased her mind a little.
This whole thing with Julia's house and the Lincoln Ripper had really got to her. She couldn't believe that Steven was a serial killer. She had always thought of him as such a nice guy.
In a hurry, she cooked and ate some pasta and sauce, and then made the decision to go across the city to retrieve her bag from Helga.
As she expected, traffic through the middle of the city was crawling along at a snail's pace. She wished she had left it a little while, until rush hour had ended, but she just couldn't be in the house on her own anymore.
When she was younger she had heard stories of how people who had visited haunted places had attracted spirits into their own homes. With everything that had happened at Julia's the night before, Wendy didn't mind admitting she was worried about this. What if just by participating in the séance she had inadvertently
invited something into her house?
She attempted to brush the idea to the back of her mind. She would ask Helga about it when she got there. Helga was always able to put her mind at ease.
Forty minutes later she arrived at the psychic’s house. The night had fully descended and the house looked dark. Wendy hoped that Helga was home, not only because her phone and purse were inside the house, but also to put her mind at rest about the possibility that she had taken a spirit home with her.
She walked up to the door at the side of the house. There were no lights visible in the hallway, but through the frosted glass of the door she could see light seeping from the parlour.
Rapping her knuckles against the glass, Wendy knocked loudly. She waited for a few moments. Usually Helga would shout an acknowledgement before coming to the door, but the house remained silent.
Wendy knocked again, this time loud enough to hurt her knuckles a little. Again, there was no response.
She bent down at the door and pushed open the letterbox.
'Helga?' she shouted into the slot. 'Helga? It's Wendy.'
She peered through the letterbox, trying to see if there was any sign of movement. The hallway looked still.
Perhaps Helga had gone out, but Wendy doubted she would have left the parlour light on if that was the case.
She didn't know what to do. She wondered if she should leave it until the following day, comeback in business hours, but she really needed her bag. Her phone was in there, which she would need to check in with Julia, and her purse was in there which she would need to put petrol in to get home.
She knocked again, thumping her hand against the door hard enough to hurt her. Again there was no reply. As a last resort she tried the door handle, expecting to find it locked. To her surprise, the door opened.
Wendy inched the door open a little and called into the house.
'Helga?' It's Wendy. I left my handbag here.'
The house was quiet.
Wendy stood indecisively in the doorway. She had been one of Helga's customers for years now. Surely the psychic wouldn't mind if she nipped in and collected her bag. Perhaps she would give Helga a fright, but then they would laugh about it. Her decision was made. She had to pick up her bag.