Urge to Kill (1) (22 page)

The waiter delivered their coffee and petit fours while Clive wondered whether he should be brave enough to suggest that they repeat this wonderful experience of dining out.

Ben had pounced on the petit fours. Clive had already realised that he had a sweet tooth from watching him devour the dessert and was happy to leave them all to him, content to watch the way he placed each one carefully in his mouth, withdrawing it partly before half closing his eyes as if in ecstasy while chewing slowly.

There was something very sensual about his actions. Clive began to feel an aching need, a need he knew only Ben could satisfy.

‘This has been fun. We should do this again.’ Once he managed to get the words out, they seemed to hang in the air, and he found himself holding his breath.

Ben had just put a petit four in his mouth but managed a huge grin that caused a little chocolate to dribble out of the corner of his mouth. He swallowed quickly and leant forward to place his hand on Clive’s. ‘I’d love to.’

It was such a light touch, but it seared into his skin and told him everything he needed to know. Ben wanted to be with him. Fireworks were going off around the room, and Clive could have sworn the waiters were dancing like in some silly commercial. Ben felt the same, could even love him. The warmth spread through his entire body and he savoured it fully before turning over his hand to grasp Ben’s, matching his smile. ‘How about lunch Sunday?’

‘Sounds good,’ he replied still grinning.

‘We could go to Mario’s…or,’ Clive paused wondering whether to take a chance. He didn’t care a jot about the food, just relief for the tension building in his loins. ‘My place if you like?’

He waited, thinking he had overstepped the mark. Ben’s brown eyes widened. Clive felt as if he were assessing his seriousness.

‘If you are sure that is what you want,’ Ben said, removing his hand to take another petit four that he put slowly into his mouth in the most suggestive way. ‘Only I won’t be responsible for what might happen.’

Clive felt a shiver as several sensual waves travelled through his body. That look told him Ben wanted him, loved him. Could something this precious really be his?

CHAPTER 30

I
t was now two days since Eppie had talked to Matt face to face. She had woken up the night before when she felt his warmth beside her. Thinking they might talk, she’d raised herself on one elbow to look down at him, but he looked exhausted, and she hadn’t the heart to wake him.

On the way to work, Eppie thought again of Matt’s phone message of the previous morning. The words sounded so formal, like a receptionist reminding you of a dental appointment. If she hadn’t been in the shower, and they could have spoken, it might have been different, but even her message back sounded stilted and functional.

Eppie was disappointed to find that Sandi’s shift didn’t start until one p.m. and although Nina, the morning receptionist, was helpful, she just didn’t feel as relaxed as she was with Sandi.

Eppie decided to put all thoughts of Matt out of her head, and though the morning went quickly enough, she was relieved to return from lunch to find Sandi behind the desk.

It was halfway through the afternoon when there was a lull in guests needing their attention that Sandi asked Eppie what was wrong.

‘Come on, tell me. How was he?’

‘Fine.’ Eppie tried to fob Sandi off.

‘Oh, come on. It must be hard getting used to living twenty-four hours a day with a man.’

Eppie laughed at her astuteness. ‘It’s even harder when you haven’t seen him since Wednesday. And then he was blazing mad.’

‘Oh, you mustn’t read anything into that,’ Sandi advised. ‘My Tom doesn’t even think to ring me if they have a big shout on. That’s the way they work, believe me. Can’t juggle two things at a time. I guess it’s the same for your lovely Matt, especially as he’s in charge.’

Eppie thought for a moment about what she had said. Who would want the responsibility of catching a murderer, never mind one so close to home? ‘Yes, that’s true,’ she said while wondering what Matt was doing. Maybe he was wrapping up the case right now, and this stumbling start to their life together would be over.

The rest of the afternoon sped by as they laughed over Sandi’s insights into men and how they worked. Eppie would never have thought that Sandi, who was so engrossed in the petty details of her wedding, would also have such a sensible, down-to-earth attitude to the male species. Some of the stories about Tom had Eppie in stitches, which she had to stifle whenever a guest came to the counter.

There was the first time Sandi had taken Tom home to meet Mum and Dad. ‘My Mum was so nervous, she’d cleaned the house from top to bottom, as if the Queen was coming to tea, but she wasn’t a patch on Tom. I’ve never seen him like that. I think he would have rather gone into a raging inferno. And it nearly ended up that way.’

‘What on earth happened?’

‘My dad had decided, as it was such a lovely day, to have a barbeque. Now understand, Dad didn’t believe in wasting money on one of those new fangled barbeques, so it was a grill and an old oil drum.’

‘Sounds feasible.’

‘Not what Tom thought. I could tell he was horrified the minute he saw it.’

‘Did he say anything?’

‘Not at first. It was so funny to watch him trying to be terribly polite, while squirming as he watched Dad light the coals. Then he suddenly jumped up and offered to help, suggesting that the whole thing might be better away from the fence, and safer resting on something non flammable.’

‘How did your dad take that?’

‘He sort of gulped and agreed. Mum and me nearly fell about laughing, especially when they began to move it. Tom had suggested they put the coals out first, but Dad wasn’t having any of that. So there they were, Dad with the barbeque gloves and Tom with the oven gloves, staggering across the garden.’

‘Sounds dangerous.’

‘Oh it was. Dad tripped over the rhubarb and the coals went everywhere. We all jumped up, worried that he or Tom had been burnt, so we didn’t notice at first that the shed was on fire. Seems like some of the coals had rolled over that way.’

‘What an introduction to the family.’ Eppie could imagine Sandi telling her grandchildren that story.

At home, after putting the kettle on and kicking off her shoes, Eppie picked up the post, idly turning over the only interesting envelope to see who it was from. The back was blank, but the small padded packet had an unusual bump in the middle. Despite giving it a prod or two, Eppie couldn’t guess what it contained, so she stopped poking in case it broke and placed it with the rest of Matt’s post. The pile was growing, as he hadn’t looked at it for days.

There was little chance that Matt would be home early, so Eppie decided not to start dinner. Instead, she would empty her remaining suitcase and find room for her stuff. Not having any space to put her belongings was like being back at Aunt Sandra’s, and she didn’t want to feel like that again.

She started on the wardrobe, removing several old shoes and a pair of rugby boots. Then, reaching far into the back, she found a shoebox.

The box held assorted cards, an old watch, a withered corsage, and a few photos. The photos showed a family wedding, then one of Matt with his arm around one of the bridesmaids. They were smiling up at each other. Eppie thought they would both be about eighteen. She was very pretty. This must have been his first love, one that meant a lot to him as he has kept these mementoes.

Eppie wondered what her name was and why Matt hadn’t mentioned her. But the subject of old lovers had never come up. Picking up the pile of cards, Eppie opened the top one.
‘Aug 2011. Happy Birthday, All my love, Jo.’

So this wasn’t some long past affair but someone who was still in his life, still sending him messages of love. Eppie knelt holding the cards in her hands trying hard not to allow the significance of them to bleed into and colour her view of the love she and Matt had.

Her past affairs were over, finished. No mementoes, just memories. Not like these objects, which were still alive, still demanding a place in Matt’s life, a place in his heart. Somehow, that must dilute the love Matt held for her. Jo had known Matt for much longer; they would have shared countless occasions. Their love must be special for Matt to keep these things.

CHAPTER 31

H
e woke early, too excited to sleep. Images of Ben and his smile replayed in Clive’s head to remind him it was real. Ben had actually agreed to come to lunch tomorrow.

Slipping into his robe, Clive went down to the kitchen to start the coffee percolating, before turning on the kitchen television, eager to view more of his publicity. He was disappointed to find little that was new.

The newscaster just recapped what was known already and linked into the old interview with the police superintendent requesting information about the doll. Clive thought how ridiculous such an authority figure looked holding a cheap doll and consoled himself with the knowledge that tomorrow he would be top billing again.

Having watched their efforts, he thought that it was very unlikely that anything could be traced back to him. He had been careful to disguise himself and had never bought more than three dolls at a time, from any one market.

Markets were bustling, busy places, and the turnover was quick and mostly anonymous, unless you were a regular when you might be greeted with a cheery
‘Hello, my love, couldn’t your mum come today, then?’
or such, guaranteed to earn a girlish chuckle from some grey-haired pensioner who happily played along with the joke.

Clive switched off the television, his thoughts returning to Ben and that soft, brief touch. Ben had given him the courage. True, it was only lunch tomorrow, but he could think of no better way to celebrate his success of this evening. Tomorrow, Mother would be on her weekly visit to Margaret’s to coo over Emily. This would be his only chance.

Was it too soon to ask Ben to the house? Would he see it as a ploy to further the relationship in the ways Clive remembered from his brief affairs with girls, when it was the done thing to ask if they wanted to come in for a coffee, while meaning ‘let’s fuck.’

He had never really liked that word but supposed it adequately described those relationships where sex was the main object. Now, he couldn’t remember any of the girls and had retained no fond memories of that time. He was simply testing the waters to see what everyone else seemed to find so absorbing.

Since meeting Ben, Clive understood why. It wasn’t just to do with bodily functions or making love, because until now he had never considered any love was involved in the sexual act. With Ben, there was a deep desire. Clive wanted to hold him, feel him, smell the scent of him, press his naked body tightly against his own and let nature take its course.

He was preparing Mother’s breakfast tray when the local paper arrived. The headlines caught his eye. ‘Professor Meredith says the killer will strike again,’ it proclaimed, and underneath was a long article in which the esteemed professor gave his view of Clive’s personality.

Clive gave the professor six out of ten, admitting that the man had managed to get some aspects of his life right. He had lived alone until Mother arrived and could be considered a loner, although he hoped that would change soon. Of course, he was intelligent and able to give attention to detail; that came with his job as a programmer. He could go along with the disturbed childhood, although he was sure it hadn’t seemed that way to anyone else and most definitely not to his family.

Mother’s feeble voice jerked him back to the kitchen. She would want her breakfast, which was already late. Clive couldn’t afford to upset her today, in case she cried off dinner tonight. He needed her for cover, if his plan was to succeed.

Dutifully, he assembled the tray and took it up, alert for any signs that she might not come up to scratch. Thankfully, she seemed to be in her normal morning grumpy state, and he strove to be extra helpful and seemingly caring.

‘Good morning, Mother. It’s a lovely morning.’

‘It will be cold.’

‘Till the sun warms everything up. Then it will be crisp. Just as you like it.’

‘Do not assume to tell me what I like, Clive.’

‘No, Mother.’

He placed the tray on her lap, but she seemed uninterested in the food. He could tell she had something on her mind.

‘What you can tell me about is your evening with Anne. Especially as I have met the girl.’

Clive decided to risk a version of the truth while looking a little sad. ‘I am ashamed to say that she didn’t show up.’

‘Did she say why?’

‘No. She didn’t show up for work yesterday. I did try ringing her but there was no answer.’

‘Then the girl must be ill or have been called away. You must try again later, Clive.’

‘I will, Mother.’

Mother turned her attention to her breakfast while he decided to go through her wardrobe to help her decide what she wanted to wear tonight. Clive knew he risked her becoming awkward if he made too much of a thing about it, so he carefully selected the patterned woollen dress she had selected from Marks & Spencer’s on their recent shopping trip, plus another, duller one from last year. He watched her eyes and guessing that Mother was looking forward to an excuse to wear the new dress, hung it on the outside of the wardrobe door before going downstairs while she finished breakfast.