by Lynda Renham
‘He hasn’t been to the gun club in yonks,’ says Sylvie, ‘and when you meet him you’ll know he couldn’t murder anyone.’
‘Pity he couldn’t come this evening,’ says Felix. ‘We could have judged for ourselves.’
‘He’s on location, he won’t be back until late tonight and then he’s taking me to dinner,’ she says, her eyes going all dewy. ‘But we’re all invited to the first night of his play in just over a week. I’m so excited and then you’ll all get to meet him and can judge for yourself. You’ll see that he couldn’t hurt a fly.’
‘Well I couldn’t hurt a fly either but sometimes I could murder my mother,’ says Felix.
‘He didn’t do it,’ she says forcefully.
‘Well someone did and Roxie saw it.’
I so wished I hadn’t.
‘It wasn’t Sam,’ I say.
Sam wouldn’t hurt anyone, except in the boxing ring, not that that makes it okay of course but you know what I mean. It’s more expected isn’t it?
‘Have we covered everyone on the guest list?’ asks Sylvie.
‘Yes we have,’ says Felix. ‘Now, I’d better get ready for this boxing match. I’m wearing my salmon pink shirt. I must say I am looking forward to the bare-chested men parading around like gladiators bit. Mind you, that’s the only nice bit about it if you ask me. The barbaric bit of bashing each other up I’m not keen on. Can’t see what you girls see in it.’
‘Are you sure you’ll be okay later?’ I ask again.
‘I assure you love, if I get even a whiff of gunpowder I’ll phone one of you two bitches to come and rescue me.’
Chapter Fifty
The bell rings for round six. I fight the urge to jump from my seat and shout like a banshee. Sam’s muscular body tenses as he takes a hard right punch to his chin. I wince. It’s like I feel every blow. He sways and for one awful moment I think he is going to go down but he recovers and sends a hard punch to the other man’s chest. I watch anxiously as they circle each other. My eyes survey Sam’s muscular toned physique and I shiver. I can see the lustful looks in other women’s eyes as they watch him too. His eyes meet mine and it’s like there is no one else in the room. He’s my champion whether he wins or not. He gives his cheeky grin and my heart melts. He can do anything to me. I’d never be able to say no. What a shame Sam doesn’t have a playroom. Then again … maybe he does. One lives in hope.
Felix moans beside me.
‘Is it over yet? God, I thought that fight scene in Eastern Promises was brutal, but this is far worse and much too close,’ he says fumbling for his glass of wine.
‘Have I got blood on me?’ he winces.
I sigh.
‘Of course you haven’t.’
‘There’s enough of it flying around.’
My phone vibrates in my jeans pocket. I pull it out and see it is my mum. I’m too afraid not to answer her calls since the last time. She only seems to call with bad news.
‘Did you know Sam Lockwood’s father owns Lockwood Estates? Stinking rich apparently,’ she says without preamble.
‘How do you know?’
‘Is that our Sylv?’ asks Felix. ‘Tell her it’s worse than an abattoir here.’
‘What’s that?’ asks Mum. ‘What are you doing in an abattoir for goodness’ sake?’
‘I’m not in an abattoir.’
‘Just feels like it,’ moans Felix.
‘I’m watching Sam fight for the championship,’ I say proudly.
‘Lovely,’ says Mum, who detests boxing. ‘His father’s bigger than Ark Morgan. Your dad googled him, didn’t you Martin?’
I hate it when she puts the phone on hands free.
‘Only because you nagged me to,’ grumbles Dad.
‘His father belongs to just about everything. They have a huge apartment in London, a country home in Berkshire, acres and acres of land and all that. They have clay shooting competitions. His father is quite the champion. Isn’t that right Martin?’
‘Are you sure about that?’ I ask, feeling like someone just punched me in the solar plexus.
‘Sure about what dear?’
‘That Sam’s dad is a champion at clay pigeon shooting.’
Felix’s eyes widen.
‘You can’t have better access to a gun than that love,’ he whispers. ‘They probably have their own gunroom, permits, the lot. You name it, they’ve got it. They’ll have a little arsenal there, a one-family terrorist group.’
I grab a can of beer and quench my dry mouth.
‘A gun right on your doorstep,’ he persists, shielding his eyes with his programme.
‘Okay,’ I mutter through gritted teeth. ‘It doesn’t mean he’s the …’ I hesitate when I remember I’m still talking to my mum.
‘Everything all right dear? Is Sam winning?’
I can’t very well tell her the truth can I? That Sam has become suspect number one again in the That Night murder.
‘Everything’s fine,’ I say.
I study Sam, my heart hammering in my chest. His eyes connect with mine and I fight my swoon. Oh God, I don’t believe this. What if Sam is the murderer? Does he know I saw him? Is he spending all this time with me because he wants to know how much I know? Does he even know I know it was him? My head begins to spin. Even I don’t know what I’m talking about. Let’s face it, the evidence against him isn’t that heavy. Okay, so he lost a Starbucks reward card and he owns Rommel Mansions. That doesn’t prove anything does it? And so what if he went to the Fun Palace that night and his dad is a champion at clay pigeon shooting. That doesn’t mean he was the guy I saw do the shooting does it? It only means he has easy access to guns. Oh shit, how many people have easy access to guns? I knock back the last of the beer and slump in my seat. It seems all I do is think about the murder. We should go back to the flat, but Sylvie said it’s too dangerous. Murderers always return to the scene of the crime and if he should see me there, then he will know for sure that I saw him on the night of the murder. My only hope is that Felix will find out that Hugh is the murderer and we can all sleep soundly in our beds.
‘He’s lovely Roxie. Perfect for you,’ gushes Mum. ‘I couldn’t have chosen better myself.’
Oh I doubt that. I know Mum has lousy taste but even she stops at murderers. I click off the phone as the bell goes for the end of round six. Felix exhales and reaches for another drink.
‘Don’t you think you should keep a clear head?’ I say. ‘Don’t forget you’re meeting Hugh later.’
‘It can’t get more brutal than this,’ he says as the bell goes for round seven.
‘How many are there?’
‘Twelve, I think, unless there is a knock out.’
‘I’ll be knocking myself out if I have to watch much more bloodshed.’
Sam’s opponent flies out of the ring like Rocky and lays into Sam.
‘Blimey, who put a firework up his arse?’ exclaims Felix.
I jump from my seat, waving my fists around and screaming at Sam.
‘Come on, you can do it, come on.’
‘I suppose there’s one consolation,’ says Felix as Sam fights back. ‘If Sam wanted to kill someone I doubt he’d need a gun.’
Felix jumps to his feet as Sam throws punch after punch.
‘Finish it,’ he screams.
For someone who hates bloodshed he certainly seems keen for more. I watch with half-closed eyes. I can’t bear it. The poor guy is getting slaughtered by Sam. Everyone is screaming and baying for blood. Before I know what I’m doing I’ve thrown myself at the ropes.
‘Stop, stop the fight. Sam, stop.’
In that moment Sam looks at me and his opponent seeing his opportunity lashes out and hits Sam with such a vicious punch that sends Sam straight to the floor.
‘Holy shit,’ says Felix.
There are gasps from the crowd and I hold my breath. Oh God, I’ve only gone and lost him the championship. Why can’t I learn to keep my mouth shut?
‘Come on l
ove, get up,’ shouts Felix. ‘It’s not over yet. Show us what you’re made of. He’s all brawn and no brains that other bugger.’
I silently beg Sam to pick himself up. The ref begins to count and my heart sinks.
‘I feel like jumping in and shoving him up myself,’ says Felix, fidgeting on his feet.
Then Sam is up and I let out a sigh of relief. I mouth sorry but he just grins and throws himself back into the fight.
‘Thank God for that. Let’s hope he isn’t the murdering type darling, because right now you bloody deserve to be.’
I can’t disagree.
Chapter Fifty-One
Sylvie
Nigel is waiting outside the restaurant. He doesn’t see me so I’m able to drink him in for a while. He’s wearing the bomber jacket and faded jeans. It’s impossible to miss him. I have visions of walking down the red carpet with him. He’s going to be a heart-throb for sure. Move over George Clooney. I’ve got a lot of work to do before I’ll be his Amal Alamuddin, but hey, if Roxie can do it in one day, then so can I. I’m not letting this fish get away. He’s the best catch I’ve ever had and I just know he is my soulmate, my real soulmate. Not like the others. Madam Zehilda got that right. And there is no way he is the murderer, he is much too gentle for that. Hopefully Felix will WhatsApp later to say that Hugh is the murderer and we can all sleep soundly in our beds. That’s hoping Felix doesn’t get himself shot of course. He’s stupid enough. At least he’ll stand out in that bright pink shirt of his. That will dazzle everyone watching Crimewatch. Stands to reason that the murderer has to be Hugh because I know for sure that it isn’t Nigel and Roxie is convinced that it isn’t Sam.
Nigel smiles when he sees me.
‘You’re looking lovely,’ he says, kissing me on the cheek. ‘But then you always do. I never thought to ask if Chinese was okay with you. I should have checked that you liked it first. I somehow thought if I did then you would too. We seem to share similar tastes.’
He’s so perfect for me. I love Chinese food. We enter the restaurant and are shown to our table.
‘How was the filming?’
‘Brilliant. It’s going really well. I’ve finished my bit. I only hope they keep it in,’ he laughs.
‘I know they will,’ I say, trying not to gush too much.
‘Ah,’ he says, pulling something from his jacket pocket.
‘I’ve got tickets for the first night of the play. How many do you want?’
‘Three, if that’s okay. My friends Rox and Felix would love to see it and they’re dying to meet you.’
Oh God, what made me say that? That was just a bit too close to the truth. We should never have allowed Felix to go alone to meet Hugh. Hopefully as long as he doesn’t say anything about the murder he’ll be safe.
‘Sure,’ Nigel says handing me the tickets.
I stare at the gold lettering that spells his name above the title of the play, A Night of Madness.
At that moment my phone bleeps with a WhatsApp message. Oh no. Please don’t let that silly arse be in trouble.
Chapter Fifty-Two
WhatsApp
Felix: Hello lovelies, how’s it going? This Hugh seems an unassuming guy. Not my type though, far too introverted. Spends most of the time saying umm and as I’m not fluent in the language of umms, we’re not getting very far.
Sylvie: That’s a relief. I was panicking you were dead.
Felix: Did you think I was WhatsApping through a medium?
Sylvie: Very funny. He’s probably struck dumb from seeing that bloody shirt of yours. Let’s face it it’s enough to render anyone speechless.
Roxie: Introverted? Oh no. Isn’t introspection a characteristic of murderers?
Sylvie: I don’t know. Is it?
Roxie: You’re the expert.
Sylvie: Not on bloody murderers I’m not. I’ve never ever met one.
Roxie: Unless Nigel Forrest is one.
Sylvie: He isn’t.
Felix: We still don’t know darlings. There’s that little question of Sam’s dad’s little gun cache.
Sylvie: What?
Felix: Hasn’t she told you?
Sylvie: Told me what?
Roxie: I haven’t had time.
Sylvie: That’s something I don’t have much of either. I’m in the restaurant loo. Nigel will think I’ve got dysentery if I’m in here much longer.
Roxie: It’s nothing. Just Sam’s dad is a clay pigeon enthusiast.
Felix: With his own gunroom.
Roxie: We don’t know that.
Sylvie: Holy shit, really?
Felix: We’re off to a gay club, Copacabana. I’m hoping if I get a few vodkas into him he’ll open up.
Roxie: Too much information Felix.
Sylvie: I don’t want to hear about your sex life.
Roxie: I feel sure he’s the murderer. Be careful Felix.
Felix: Hopefully all will be well and the only murderous thing I’ll come into contact with is the burly bouncer on the door, but in case neither of you noticed, I’m wearing my salmon pink T-shirt with a grey waistcoat.
Sylvie: If that’s pink I’ll eat my hat.
Roxie: I thought it was purple.
Felix: Trust me lovelies, it’s salmon pink. I’ll report back in an hour to let you know I’m still alive.
Sylvie: We should have set safe words for you.
Roxie: We still can.
Felix: Pink for danger and bright red for get me out of here. I’d better go lovelies, Mr Umm is waiting.
Sylvie: BTW, did Sam win the championship?
Felix: He got a medal and everything. God, that man is gorgeous, especially when he’s half naked. No thanks to Roxie mind you. If she’d had her way he’d have concussion instead.
Roxie: Unfair. I just can’t stand the sight of blood.
Felix: Going, going, gone.
Sylvie: Me too.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Fortunately for me Sam went on to win the championship. I was so proud. The first thing I did was phone my mum. You’d think I’d given birth she was that thrilled. I thought she was going to burst into tears she was that emotional. Sam forgave me for almost stopping the fight. It was Felix who pulled me from the ropes.
‘Darling, I don’t think this is how it’s done. The traditional way is to throw in a white towel, not your whole body.’
He’d sat me back on my seat, plied me with wine and kept a restraining hand on me until the very end. I’m so hoarse from shouting that I can’t speak above a whisper. I drop my phone into my clutch and leave the ladies.
Sam is studying the menu when I return to the table. He has the most lovely eyes, Surely I would remember them if I had looked into them that night? Sam doesn’t have an evil bone in his body which means the murderer has to be Nigel Forrest, which doesn’t surprise me, seeing as he’s got access to a gun. You often hear after a murder, that the murderer was a member of a gun club don’t you? It stands to reason it was Nigel Forrest. Hugh sounds like a sweetie, so it can’t have been him. Poor Sylvie, she will be distraught. I hope she will be safe with him tonight. Maybe I should WhatsApp Felix.
‘Penny for your thoughts,’ says Sam, giving me his grin.
I smile.
‘I was just thinking about …’
Can I tell him about the murder?
‘Everything,’ I finish.
I don’t think it would be sensible. Not that I have any doubts about him but, well, just in case. Best to keep my mouth shut until we know for sure that Nigel Forrest is the murderer.
‘What do you fancy?’ he asks glancing at the menu. ‘I’ve ordered some bubbly.’
I look at his bruised cheek and cut eyebrow and feel an urge to kiss them. I’ve never felt like this about anyone. I’d always dreamt of having these feelings but never believed I would. Darren never really inspired romance.
‘You choose,’ I say.
I’ve always wanted to say that. Have a man take control. Bugger women’s lib.
He looks up and reaches for my hand across the table.
‘I really loved that you wanted to stop the fight,’ he says, stroking my hand.
‘Really? I thought I was one big embarrassment.’
‘No, I liked that you cared about Tom, the other boxer. Do you mind the boxing that much?’
The waitress approaches and he orders lamb cutlets in basil sauce for both of us. She pours the bubbly into glasses and we toast his win.
‘I like the danger and excitement of it. It’s part of my personality,’ he grins.
‘I’ve noticed,’ I say softly, sipping from my glass.
He takes my hand again.
‘I’d like to show you my house tonight, it overlooks the Thames. It’s beautiful. You’ll like it.’
I lower my head and watch the bubbles in my glass.
‘Your parents won’t mind you going out with a chambermaid?’
He laughs,
‘My dad was a market stallholder before he made it, and my mum was a cleaning lady. You could look down on them if you wanted. They’ll love you. They’ve seen a picture of you.’
I widen my eyes.
‘They have?’
‘I took it at the Fun Palace, remember? The selfie?’
‘Oh yes,’
He fumbles with his phone for a few seconds.
‘Ah, yes here it is.’
He holds it up and I smile, and then I remember and my body freezes.
Felix
Hugh’s an okay bloke I’m discovering. He just needed a few vodkas to loosen him up. He is a pretty good dancer too. I may have struck lucky here. He doesn’t like to talk much, unless you count his umms. My kind of guy, considering I like to do all the talking.
‘How do you know old Ark Morgan then?’ I ask.