by Liz Mistry
‘Yeah, Patti, music being the operative word not a bloody racket.’
Putting the tray down next to the bed, she poked her elbow into his side. ‘Cheeky.’ She turned to the puppy, running her fingers through his fur, making his small body quiver in delight. ‘Mummy’s a good singer, isn’t she, Bingo?’
Seemingly delighted with the attention, Bingo licked her face with the same enthusiasm he normally reserved for Gus’ mum, which gave Gus just enough time to recover from the ‘Mummy’ reference. The implication that he and Patti were Bingo’s parents made them seem like a family and Gus didn’t know what to do with that idea. Somehow it gave him hope but, after Gabriella and then Sadia, he’d learned to be cautious.
He pulled Bingo away from her. ‘Hmph, what’s a man to do to get some coffee around here? Lick your face?’
Patti punched him none too lightly on the arm. ‘Watch it! You’re lucky I made breakfast in this heat, and, just so you know, any man worth his salt would be standing by the headboard wafting a massive fan over their lady love, not making unnecessary demands.’ She turned and picked up something from the tray. ‘Oh, nearly forgot, this was on the mat downstairs. Love letter?’
Gus looked at the envelope in her hand and some of the magic of the morning dissipated immediately. The letter looked identical to the others; same blue envelope, similar size, no postmark this time though. He’d thought… hoped, he’d seen the last of them. There had been four letters in all, starting soon after the Izzie Dimou murder earlier in the year, but none for a month. After the second one, he’d found himself at odd moments looking into the shadows for signs of being watched. Don’t say they’ve started up again? A coil of unease formed in his stomach, spreading across his chest. He could do without this crap – just when things were beginning to feel more settled.
His eyes drifted to Patti and snippets from the previous letters crashed in, piercing him. ‘Your girlfriend’s pretty… very pretty!’
He dragged his gaze away from Patti. Bingo rolled onto his back revealing an expanse of white belly. ‘…and your dog’s so sweet. Soooo tiny! I could squeeze and squeeze and squeeze him.’
Seemingly sensing Gus’ mood, Bingo whined, his eyes full of concern as he looked at his master. In one fluid movement, the dog rolled back onto his front and laid his head on Gus’ thigh, following through with an enthusiastic lick. Gus exhaled and patted the dog’s head. There had been nothing overtly threatening in the previous letters… still his ‘fan mail’ was now being delivered direct to his home – hand-delivered straight to his home.
A slight frown appeared on Patti’s forehead as she thrust the letter closer to him. ‘Go on, take it then. It won’t bite.’
‘Gimme a second…’ He turned, pulled open the top drawer of his bedside cabinet and took out an evidence bag. He kept his voice steady. ‘Pop it in there.’
Eyes wide, she did as he asked. ‘You going to tell me what that’s all about?’ With a nervous laugh she added, ‘Oh, and while you’re at it, why the hell do you keep evidence bags in the bedroom?’
Smiling at her attempt to lighten the situation, Gus took the bag from her and sealed it. ‘I’ve had a few of these letters over the past few months, but until now they’ve been delivered to The Fort. There’s never been anything overtly threatening in them, however, the fact that this one landed on my doorstep on a Sunday without a postmark, ups the stakes.’
He risked a quick grin. ‘As for the bags. I have them all over the house – copper’s habit, I suppose.’ He reached for her hand. ‘I’m sorry, Patti. Sorry to drag you into work stuff, but I’m going to have to ask you to come down to The Fort to get printed – for elimination purposes.’
Patti tutted and pulled her hand away, a frown spreading across her forehead. It was like a slap in the face, but Gus couldn’t blame her. Why should she have to put up with this sort of shit? The letters were addressed to him.
But she wasn’t done. ‘Humph, damned if I’m letting my coffee go cold because some idiot’s fixated on you. ’Fingerprints’ll have to wait. I’m having my breakfast first.’ She poured two mugs of coffee and offered Gus another pastry. ‘Eat up.’ Holding her mug, she lowered her tone. ‘You can tell me these things, you know? I don’t need protecting. If we’re together, then you need to start sharing the shit with me, not blocking me out like you did with all the Alice and Gabriella stuff.’
A weight settled in his chest and started to expand. This always happened when he thought about his last big case. He recognised the sensation and, taking a deep breath, he pulled his shoulders back forcing the feeling away. Patti was right. If they were to take things to the next level, then he had to share… the thing was, he wasn’t very good at that. Raising his head, he looked at her face. She was smiling, her brown eyes reassuring and calm.
The lingering tingle in his chest dissipated. Gus grabbed a croissant and munched. Just when he thought he’d got her sussed, Patti did something that made him love her even more. This time he allowed the ‘L’ word to linger in his mind before grabbing his mug and drinking.
‘What do they say?’
‘Eh?’
Patti laughed. ‘The letters, what else? What do they say?’
‘I’ll show you them when we get to The Fort. I’m not too worried about them, but they do mention you… and Bingo.’ His hand trailed to the dog’s head as he spoke.
‘What do you mean, they mention me?’
‘Well… in one he asks me to pass on his regards.’ Gus paused. ‘He mentions your dress in another…’
‘And you didn’t think to tell me, that some sicko is watching me? You should have told me.’
She was right. Of course, she was. Her lips were in a tight line. Now wasn’t the time to say he didn’t want to frighten her. Patti wasn’t easily frightened and the mood she was in, she’d challenge him on sexism. Shit, shit, and double shit. Yet again he was messing up a relationship that was beginning to mean a lot to him.
‘Sorry.’ Too little too late?
Patti nibbled her croissant in silence, avoiding his gaze.
This was going to be it. She was going to tell him it was finished… that she couldn’t put up with all the crap that came with being with him and he couldn’t bloody blame her. He was an idiot. What had he been thinking, keeping this from her?
She wiped the crumbs off her fingers and turned to him. Here it was. The big knock back. The big, ‘It’s over, we can’t go on like this.’ He clenched his jaw, bracing himself for the body blow her words would deliver.
Yet… her eyes were sparkling, and a huge grin spread across her face. Gus thought she’d never looked more beautiful and his jaw unclenched as she spoke.
‘Can’t wait to be printed. Wait until I tell them at school tomorrow… they’ll be so damn jealous.’
Gus could’ve hugged her. Instead, he smothered his grin, as she continued.
‘I have to say, it’s a bit of a shame you don’t have the same security here as you do at your mum’s house. If your admirer had delivered the letter there, they’d have been recorded. Here?’ she wafted her hand in the air. ‘… not a damn thing.’
She was right. His lack of home security meant they were reliant on the odd bit of home CCTV in a domestically populated area to see who’d delivered the letter. Or perhaps a super vigilant neighbour… if they were really lucky. Gus glanced at the clock. Not even seven o’clock – they’d be lucky if anyone was out and about at that time on a Sunday morning. The most they could hope for was someone with an ‘I’m a Stalker’ sign entering Marriners Drive from either Emm Lane or from the snicket near the Sainsbury’s, otherwise they’d little hope of identifying their unofficial postie. Wishing he didn’t sound quite so defensive, he said, ‘If I’d known I was going to be stalked I’d have got some security.’
‘Hmph, right. You’re the typical, I’ll do it tomorrow sort of guy, until someone you love gets threatened and then whatever needs doing gets done yesterday. Remember, I saw how you were with Alice.’
She was right. His first thought on seeing the letter without its postmark was of Patti and Bingo, not himself. He made a promise there and then, that nothing would happen to them. He’d make sure of it. He thought for a moment and then, remembering who was on duty, he picked up his phone and hit speed dial. ‘Taffy, I need your help.’
Gus had no trouble imagining the lad standing to attention, his expression excited, his face flushed. It was one Taffy wore at least twice most days. No doubt, he’d already be sitting in the incident room at The Fort, trawling through paperwork as if it was Origami day at school. Really must insist he take some time off. Taffy had been an eager beaver ever since he got promoted to the team on a permanent basis and being greeted by his over-zealous face every morning drained Gus’ limited enthusiasm. Hell, he wasn’t that much older than Taffy, so why did Gus always feel like the boy’s grandad?
‘I got another one of those letters, Taff. Delivered to the house this time. I’m coming in in a bit with Patti and I need you to print her.’
There was silence from the phone, then Taffy cleared his throat before speaking. ‘You think Patti sent them?’
For fuck’s sake! ‘No, of course I don’t think Patti sent them.’ The words ‘you idiot’ hung in the air. ‘She picked it up off the doormat.’
∞∞∞
Taffy and Compo’s faces lit up when Gus and Patti walked through the incident room doors, and they were on their feet in seconds. Good to be popular! But, before he’d managed even two steps into the room, he was brought down to earth as Compo slapped Taffy on the back, ‘That’s a fiver you owe me, Taffy boy. Told you they’d be here before nine.’
Should have known better than to expect respect from my damn team. Too lenient with them, that’s my trouble. ‘Making bets on your boss? That’s taking liberties, that is. Better be a pot of coffee on the go to make up for it.’
Compo, in khaki cargo trousers topped by a faded Game of Thrones T-shirt, with coffee stains on the front and sweat pools under his armpits grinned and gestured to Gus’ desk like an usher at a wedding. ‘Let’s see it, Boss.’
Switching the desk fan off so as not to send anything flying while they dealt with the letter, Gus placed the bagged blue envelope with his name and title typed on the front onto the table. If the other letters were anything to go by, the font was Times New Roman, size fourteen… He put on a pair of gloves and opened the bag.
Compo sniffed and Gus nodded. ‘Smells the same, doesn’t it? Same weird perfume smell.’
Carrying two mugs of coffee, Taffy joined them and handed one to Patti. Gus nodded towards the desk and Taffy deposited Gus’ drink there. Gus had learned to take possession of his drink as soon as it appeared because more than once, the lad had made him a drink and then, forgetting it wasn’t his, had drunk it himself.
Using his index and middle fingers, Gus teased the envelope out of the bag. The previous letters had each had different postmarks on them; Leeds, Bradford, Wakefield, Huddersfield… Wonder what prompted the change? Seemed like his anonymous fan was mobile. If you called being at most an hour’s train ride from Bradford mobile… and seemingly more confident too. Forensics on the previous letters had revealed zilch of importance. The envelopes were self-sealing, ex-Hallmark stock that could be picked up at any car boot sale in the district. The paper was bog-standard A4 used by businesses all over. Nothing unusual about the ink either. There were fingerprints on both the paper and the envelopes. None, however, that were in the IDENT1 files and, according to the technician, they most likely belonged to innocent handlers at the factories, sorting offices, post office, etc. No fingerprints obtained from the envelope matched those found on the paper.
It was frustrating. The only real lead left for Gus to follow was the content of the letters themselves. Gus decided that with the ‘home delivery’, it was now time to consult the eccentric psychologist, Professor Sebastian Carlton, from Leeds Trinity University. With any luck he’d be able to point him in the right direction.
Using a wooden letter opener, gifted by his mother at Christmas… who the hell, bar his mum, would use a bloody letter opener these days…? he slit the envelope across the top fold. This would save any possible forensic evidence caught on the seal. He’d been reprimanded by Sid for ripping the first one open – like he’d known it was going to be a bloody anonymous note. The perfume smell was stronger now he’d opened the envelope… just like the others.
Patti moved forward and sniffed. ‘Smells familiar. Give me a moment.’
She leaned down, holding her hair away from her face and sniffed again. ‘Obsession! I’m almost sure it’s Obsession perfume.’
Somehow the word ‘Obsession’ seemed ominous. The scent was too strong to have been co-incidental. Not good! Not good at all!
‘Get the lab to test for that – we’ll no doubt have some perfume data base. Maybe that’ll narrow things down a bit.’
With a tutting sound, Patti shook her head. ‘God’s sake, Gus, you clearly don’t buy perfume much. If it is Obsession, that’s not going to narrow it down much. It’s a really popular brand. Millions of women wear it.’ She tilted her head to one side, her lips scrunched up. ‘Maybe if it’s a knock-off the recipe might be a little different. Maybe that’ll throw something up, but I bet there’s loads of knock-off brands doing the rounds in Bradford too.’
Taffy got up a picture of the scent bottle on his phone and showed it to Gus. ‘My sister likes that brand. I bought her some for her birthday.’
Gus threw him a dirty look. Trust the kid to be more up on women’s perfume than he was. Gus made a mental note to find out what perfume Patti preferred. Maybe buy her some for her birthday and shook the contents from the envelope. When the single sheet, folded in half landed on Gus’ desk, the silence in the room was as oppressive as the building heat outside. Even Compo’s computers seemed to be holding their breath. A quick glance at the other three told Gus they were on tenterhooks. Patti bit her lip, her eyes glued to the letter. Taffy was executing a rocking movement on his feet, his hands behind his back as if to prevent him from grabbing the letter and ripping it open.
Compo glared at the letter as if it had just eaten his bacon butty until, with a quick smile, he nodded. ‘Come on, Gus. What’ya waiting for. It’s already written… not like you can change owt, is it?’
Taffy rocked some more. ‘Maybe the bastard’ll have slipped up this time.’
Gus snorted. ‘Yeah, maybe we’ll be lucky, and he’ll have typed his name and address in the top right-hand corner.’
Compo clicked his fingers, making Gus and Taffy jump. ‘Good one, Gus. Open it up and see.’
Choosing to assume that Compo too, was being sarcastic, Gus flipped open the folded letter… and there it was…
My Dearest Detective Inspector Angus McGuire,
It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? Miss me?
Poor Bingo! This heat really doesn’t agree with him, does it? Good job that tree in your garden gives him a little bit of shade in the afternoon. I’ve had to refill his water a couple of times when your mum’s been late picking him up. You really need to tell her to be on time, you know?
You must tell Patti that I love that blue dress she’s been wearing. Stunning. And of course, I like your bandana – very cool and practical for this weather. You sure your bosses approve? Maybe a bit too casual for their liking?
Anyway, you’re probably wondering why I’m writing and, much as I love to chat, there is a reason. I’ve been working hard on a little surprise for you. Just remember though, things are never quite what they seem.
Watch this space!
CHAPTER 2
Zodiac
‘Y
ou all set for tonight? Excited? This will be so brill. Better than anything we could ever have imagined.’ I’m buzzing. But…what the fuck? I expect a little more interest… you know…? like a bit of excitement, a bit of enthusiasm. Talking to Pisces is like trying to light a fucking firework in a snowstorm. S
hit, wish we could have some snow. Get away from this damn heat, just for a minute. Shit, I’d take a second of snow. Me… naked outside. I laugh, at the thought of snowflakes landing on my skin… sizzling and evaporating soon as they touch. I lift a handful of ice cubes and ram them down the back of my T-shirt. Picking up my iPhone, I pout and take a selfie.
The voice on the other end of the throwaway phone’s wittering on again. I stifle a yawn. Yada yada yada… Boring as shit! Dumbass, stupid, juvenile crap! Like I give a shit about emotions and family and stuff. All I want is to get the job done, like we agreed. I add some doggie ears and a lolling tongue to my selfie and post it to Instagram with the caption ‘panting in the heat.’
‘Look.’ Sharp enough to slice through the stupidity spouting from the phone. ‘It’s decided. It’s planned. It’s happening. Now get with the action! We’re not delaying. You’re not putting this off. It’s tonight. You know what you need to bring. Don’t let me down.’
I switch off as more nonsense spews out, flick the phone onto speaker and lay it down on the table, letting the div’s crap wash over me. I know what’s coming– what all this shit is leading up to. Next, it’ll be the moany tone… the pleading whinge… the I’m not strong like you… the I don’t know if I can do this… the Are you sure it’ll be all right…? the We won’t get caught, will we…? and, sure enough… here we goooo… I lie back on the couch, feet up, happy to break the house rules regarding feet on furniture and roll my eyes. Talk about fucking drama. I fling my legs onto the couch and grab my drink. Half the ice is melted already and the vodka tastes like shit – cheap, warm vodka and coke – yuk. I drag long and hard on the straw, draining the glass before shoving it back on the table next to my phone. Lying back down, wishing I wasn’t so hot, but too bloody lazy to get more ice cubes, I idly stretch out a finger and smudge the liquid that’s soaking into the shiny wood, leaving a dark ring where my glass stood. Oh goody, I’ve left a mark on the coffee table… oops… ah well…