She walked over to the mirror, picked up her lipstick from the shelf and repainted her lips, then stared at her reflection, the woman in red that she had created when left on her own for too long, with no one to take care of her, no one to say no more wine, no one to sneak her medication into the small amount of food she would eat as when her late husband was still around to fend for her.
She blew a kiss towards the mirror, then rolled up her sleeves and grabbed the two cartons of poison, ripped open the lids, then used a kitchen knife to cut into the plastic bags that held the toxic product.
An open bag of poison in each hand, Mrs Green walked around the perimeter of her garden, laughing out loud as she sprinkled the white powder onto the lawn, onto the flowers, anywhere she had ever seen that pesky cat come and invade her territory.
Today was the first day she had hoped the cat would come back, so she could watch as the cat investigated its play area, the place it came to relax, not knowing that it'd be inhaling and rolling around in a chemical that would cause it pain, maybe make it vomit, maybe go blind. Mrs Green didn't know what effect the rat poison would have on a cat, but she couldn't wait to find out.
She went back inside, half-heartedly washed her hands then moved the chair to the open back door. She took her glass of wine, sat down then began the wait for her day’s entertainment. She felt good, excited even, until she was interrupted by the phone ringing.
‘Fuck off,’ she snapped, sounding almost as toxic as the poison she had laid in wait of her feline enemy.
She begrudgingly pulled herself up and out of the seat and made her way to the phone.
It was Ben. He explained that he and Natalie had some important news to share, that she needed to be home when they arrived in the next half hour or so. Mrs Green had mumbled something about a cat then said she had to go, and hung up the phone.
Natalie took her time getting ready to go and see her soon-to-be mother-in-law. She hated Mrs Green, and the feeling was reciprocated, but this needed to be done, apparently.
Ben had insisted that they give the news of the baby and the marriage to his mother together, in person, and as Natalie wanted things to go smoothly, at least until she had taken Ben's last name, she forced a smile and agreed to go with him.
It may sound strange, but Ben knew of the awkward nature of the relationship between these women, and usually let Natalie stay home when he visited his parents. But today, he was adamant that she be there.
Natalie knew that for no unexpected complications disrupting the wedding, she needed to be on her game in front of Mrs Green, and showing a strong, united front with Ben, after all the recent troubles was a good tactic.
Ben had told Natalie that his mother knew about her fling with David, which made her nervous, but she was ballsy enough to deal with it, and thought the news of an expectant baby would soften even the hardest of hearts.
Ben sat at the table, and slid a cheque and a letter into an envelope and sealed it shut. He placed the envelope, along with another and the card of Detective Summers into his jacket pocket.
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, exhaled slowly and stood.
‘Natalie,’ he called out, ‘it's time to go.’
44
‘What are we doing here?’ asked Natalie, as Ben parked the car outside a hardware store.
‘Just wait a minute, I gotta get something for my mum,’ he replied.
Ben ignored the traffic warden working his way towards his car and entered the shop. He had more pressing matters on his mind.
It was clear he was not a seasoned criminal, as Ben hadn't noticed that tailing him was Kite, with Summers in the passenger seat. They had now pulled up a few cars in front of Ben's and were watching his vehicle in their respective mirrors.
What are you up to, Mr Green? Thought Summers.
The traffic warden had written out a ticket for Ben’s car, and got some abuse from Natalie as he stuck it under the windscreen wiper. Kite stifled a giggle as he sipped from a can of soda, not his favourite drink, but coffee without a thermo flask wouldn't have lasted long at all.
Ben exited the shop carrying a plastic bag, which he placed behind his seat before taking the parking ticket and throwing it into the car, whilst smiling to the warden, who was clearly not used to the friendly reaction when going about his days’ work.
Ben climbed into the car and pulled away.
Kite waited as a few cars drove by before pulling back out onto the road. Summers felt nervous, thinking Kite may have left it too late and risked losing their man, but they hadn't, Kite knew what he was doing, and although Summers didn't always agree with Kite's use of 'charm' and 'schmoozing' when trying to improve his chances of promotion, she was thankful that he was there beside her. He really was a good detective, and a great officer, experienced and able.
Surprising to the pursuing officers, Ben and his girlfriend were now heading back in the direction they came.
‘You think he's forgotten something?’ asked Kite.
Summers didn't say a word, but noted that they had returned to the crime hot-spot.
‘Maybe we've just followed Mr Green to do the shopping,’ he continued, ‘perhaps he's about to do some DIY.’
Summers tapped her fingers nervously on the dashboard.
‘Maybe, but why take the girlfriend to the shop, leave her in the car and go home again?’ she asked.
Good question. And almost as if to answer it for her, Ben took a right turn at a T-junction, not the left which would have taken him home.
‘Interesting,’ said Kite, sarcastically. ‘Things are hotting up.’
It isn't unusual for officers, or any professionals in a situation such as this, which is unpredictable, perhaps dangerous, perhaps nothing to worry about at all, to pass the time with a touch of humour. These two had seen some dark images over their careers, and the odd joke or touch of sarcasm was acceptable, even welcome, to lighten the mood.
They followed their target for another two miles, until Ben pulled his car up outside a semi-detached house. After watching Ben struggle with the front gate, he led the way towards the front door, carrying the plastic bag he had just acquired from the hardware store. He wiped some sweat from his forehead then made his way inside.
Natalie reluctantly followed him into the house and closed the door behind her.
Summers was straight onto the radio back to headquarters, wanting to know who owned the house. Within moments, the radio operator came back with the answer, it was owned by Ben’s late father. This wasn’t exciting news. Kite slumped back in his seat and gave a sigh.
Summers knew that sitting here probably wasn’t going to be their ‘finest hour’ in the force, but also knew that if she was going to find out anything of Ben Green, patience would more than likely be a virtue.
45
Ben and Natalie entered the kitchen and saw Mrs Green sat at the back door, sipping wine and staring out into the garden. At this point, Ben knew that his mother had lost her marbles, or at least most of them, and decided it wasn't worth questioning what she was up to.
Natalie, on the other hand, hadn't seen Mrs Green since the funeral, around two months ago, when she had noted that Mrs Green didn't shed a tear for her husband, but seemed more agitated at the inconvenience of having to attend a burial when the weather was a little too chilly for comfort.
She was surprised at how far Mrs Green seemed to have fallen, what with the heavy make-up, bizarre obsession with the colour red but more than that, the lazy look in her eyes and face. Mrs Green was drunk, this was clear, but it could be that she also wasn't sleeping and eating. In Natalie's opinion, she was fit for the scrap heap in her current state, and this pleased her.
Ben edged his way into the centre of the room and pulled out a chair for Natalie to sit at the head of the table, she did so. He put his plastic bag from the hardware store down on the ground, leaning it up against a table leg.
‘Hey mum, how are you doing?’ he asked as he leant d
own, as if to kiss her on the cheek, but just taking the chance to give a long, cold look, deep into her eyes.
Slowly, like some kind of living-dead zombie from an old horror movie, Mrs Green turned her head to face her son, and then glanced at one of the people she despised the most, sat at the head of her kitchen table.
‘Hello Natasha,’ she called out, knowing that this would annoy her son, but more importantly, remind Natalie how much hate there was between them. Natalie had taken away her darling son. It would take a miracle for her to forgive and forget that.
‘Her name is Natalie, mum,’ said Ben, keeping his cool.
Mrs Green turned her attention back to the garden. There was no cat visiting as of yet.
‘You should pull up a seat, Benjamin, you're going to miss the show,’ said Mrs Green.
Ben was clueless to what his mother was talking about, but had bigger things on his mind. It was time to set things straight, time for answers, for things to be out in the open, time for things to be put right.
One, two, three, he counted to himself in his head.
‘I think you'll find the show won't be in the garden, mum.’ he said.
Ben grabbed his mother's chair and dragged her, still seated, to the table, dropping her into place with no airs or graces, to face Natalie. Then he sat between the two women in his life.
Mrs Green placed her empty glass on the table. Natalie sat shocked, that was the first time she had seen Ben do anything that could be perceived as violent or aggressive, and to his own mother?
‘Now that I've got your attention...’ he said, feeling emotion build up in his throat, ‘I think we all need to have a chat.’
Natalie wasn't a timid girl, as we all know, but the ferocious eyes of Mrs Green digging deep down into Natalie's soul were making her feel a little uncomfortable. With any normal person, to be intimidated by someone, someone who was not only drunk but clearly on her way to madness, if she wasn't already there, a normal reaction would be to leave, or at least look away, try to ignore the aggressor, ask for help, something, anything, other than what Natalie was about to do, something that would clearly upset the situation further.
‘We're getting married,’ said Natalie, looking directly into the eyes of Mrs Green, and then broke into a smile as she saw her future mother-in-laws eyes widen, the shock and the anger about ready to explode into rage.
Natalie leant across and took Ben's hand, not for support, not to show love, but to show that she was in control. There would be no intimidation, no fear, and no more bullshit from the old hag who had tried for so long to cause Natalie misery.
‘What?’ asked Mrs Green, as she turned her attention to her son.
Ben looked at his mother, and then glanced at Natalie, before answering.
‘You know, mum, I know you two have never really got along,’ he said, ‘but you've both got more in common than you think.’
That statement upset both women in equal measure.
‘And there's more,’ he continued, ‘which I’m going to leave Natalie to tell you. It'll give you lovely ladies a chance to bond over something.’
What the fucking hell is he on about? thought Mrs Green.
Why the fuck is he making me do this on my own? Pathetic bastard! thought Natalie.
Ben stood from his chair, grabbed the plastic bag from the floor, and left the room without saying another word. He pushed the door up but didn't close it completely. He stood, waited, listened.
‘What the hell do you think you're doing? You'll never marry my boy. It is not his destiny! Stuck with a dirty fucking whore like you, you slimy bitch!’ said Mrs Green, full of venom.
Natalie calmly leant forward and placed her elbows on the table.
‘You, Mrs Green, are going to be a grandmother,’ said Natalie, matter-of-factly.
There was a moment of silence as the mad woman in red relaxed back into her seat. Thoughts flooded her head, but she gave nothing away as the two women, both filled with so much hate, nastiness, cruelness, so many lies and so much selfishness, stared hard into each other’s souls.
Then Mrs Green surprised even herself, and broke into a half-smile, then slowly, a full smile.
‘Then, my dear,’ she said, pouring wine into her glass then raising it toward her soon to be daughter-in-law, ‘here is to the little miracle. Welcome to the family’.
Natalie felt smug. She had no idea that winning the old witch over would be so easy. Why hadn’t she faked a pregnancy before? Because she didn’t really care, she guessed.
Ben, still the other side of the door, had heard enough.
46
Ben walked along the corridor and stepped into the red room, the room where his father would not only come to do the paperwork for his business, but the place he came to shut himself away from the troubles that had surrounded his life in recent years.
It saddened Ben to see what his mother had done to this room. She had created some kind of sick and twisted hell-hole of a shrine, an overdose of the colour red with pictures and articles serving as reminders of the deaths that had plagued this city over the years. What was his mother thinking when decorating part of her home like that? She’d destroyed one man's hide-away, to create another person’s place of worship to the devil.
He saw his reflection in the mirror hung on the back of the door and didn't recognise the menacing smile that came back at him as his own, but as the smile that belonged to the monster that had been growing within, the monster that had been planted inside of him at birth and flourished throughout his life until finally, just days ago, had taken control, even if for just those few moments and taken lives.
Ben knew that he and the monster were one, and would grow more so over time. He remembered sitting on the girl, under the bridge, her head battered to pieces beneath him, her blood on his hands and sprayed onto his face, he remembered how good he felt, how free.
But he wasn't free.
It’s the man in the mirror who was becoming free, and although Ben had crossed that line between good and evil for a brief moment, he knew that it wasn't right to let this carry on. He had to stop the man in the mirror, that monster within, that genetic flaw causing all these problems. He had to stop himself.
Ben pocketed the key from the inside of the red room door and stepped back out into the corridor, and then, carrying the plastic bag, he made his way upstairs.
He stepped into his old bedroom, the place he had always felt at home, the room where he played with his toys and imagined he was in another world and did all the things that innocent young children would do when they had their own room and no siblings to play with. He realised how his imagination had blossomed when spending that much time on his own.
Nothing had really changed in his bedroom since he had moved out. There were still posters of his preferred rock bands and movies on the wall, still the same bed sheets and curtains. The only real difference had been the extra books and boxes that had been dumped into the room that wasn't really used for anything anymore except storage.
Ben made his way to the big window and pulled it open, letting the fresh air from above the garden flood the room.
He looked down and saw the cat that his mother had hated for so long, rolling around in the grass towards the back of the lawn, then he realised that it wasn't rolling around for fun, or relaxing in the limited sunshine that the day had brought, it was struggling. The cat had been investigating the new substance in the garden, maybe eaten or inhaled too much, and its body wasn't coping with the toxicity that came smuggled within the powder.
Ben didn't know about the poison, as he watched the cat fight for its last breath, clawing it's way under a bush where it seemed to give up one of its nine lives, maybe it's last, but he knew his mother was to blame for the demise of this cat, just like he now knew that his mother was to blame for the deaths of many others.
He placed his bag down on the small table by the window and stepped up onto to it to take a look at the hinges joining the wind
ow to the main window frame. He gave it a shake, there was hardly any movement. It was strong enough. He pulled out of the bag a length of rope and tied one end around the window frame, triple-knotting it for efficiency.
Ben stepped back down onto the carpeted floor and took his phone from his pocket along with Detective Inspector Summers' card and the two envelopes.
He dialled the mobile phone number printed on the card.
The phone rang...
47
Just twenty minutes into the stakeout and Kite was already bored, half-snoozing behind the steering wheel. He jolted to life when Summers' phone started ringing. She didn't know the number and turned off the radio before pressing the 'Answer' button.
‘DI Summers,’ she said.
‘Hello, detective,’ said Ben.
Summers thought she recognised the voice but had to confirm.
‘Err, hello. Who is this please?’ she asked, before fumbling with the phone and turning it onto speaker mode.
‘It's Ben, Ben Green,’ said the voice on the other end of the phone. ‘You said to call if I had any information that may help you in your enquiries, so, well, here I am, calling.’
Kite opened his mouth to speak but Summers reacted quickly and placed her hand over his lips. This was her show, she was in charge. Kite leant across her, gently opened the glove box and pulled out a digital audio recording device. Summers was happy to see Kite had come prepared. He pressed record, and Summers went on with the conversation.
‘And what is it you'd like to tell me, Mr Green? What information do you have for me?’ asked Summers. ‘Would you like us to collect you? We could go to the station and talk about things.’
‘Oh no, that's ok, there'll be no need for that,’ replied Ben. ‘In fact, I think I know exactly who The Phantom is, and I may be able to get you a confession. Would you like that?’
Summers and Kite looked at each other, 'is this guy for real?'
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