Urge to Kill (1) (3 page)

‘What bloody tomfoolery is this then? Isn’t it bad enough that another good man has gone and got himself snared by some designing female?’

The team was suddenly changed back into something resembling a working CID team as each scattered to their appointed place. No one dared risk arguing with McRay.

‘You,’ he spat in Matt’s direction. ‘Suspicious death—place where silly women go to waste their husbands’ money. Health spa place out at Heath Stone End. Take Sam and DC Meadows.’ With a last glare around, he stalked back into his office and banged the door shut.

The team relaxed. Fluff whipped her jacket from the back of her chair and moved towards the door eager to get started on the case and out of McRay’s orbit. Not that Fluff was the sort to cave in over some boorish middle-aged man whose wife finally had the sense to leave him, but she was used to keeping the peace. In less than two minutes, Matt was back in command and the job took over.

Matt chanced a glance at Fluff as she walked beside him down the corridor. He had often wondered if she had felt hurt or let down when their brief affair hadn’t continued. It had started at the traditional celebration for the end of a particularly long and difficult case. The inevitable over indulgence of spirits had continued into the early morning and into Fluff’s bed. Matt regretted the affair, not only because he received a fierce lecture from McRay about compromising his position as DI, but also Matt realised it wasn’t fair to Fluff.

That was eighteen months ago and, although Matt had let her down as best as he could and they both laughed over how silly they had been, putting it down to the stress and alcohol, he sensed that she still held a faint hope that one day they might get together.

Despite the nickname of Fluff, Detective Constable Jane Meadows was one of the brightest officers in the team. It was unfortunate that she had worn one of those fluffy jackets, which were all the fashion, on her first day. The team gave her a thorough roasting before accepting her as one of their own and adorning her with the honour of a nickname.

Fluff broke the silence first, and he realised she was trying to ease the slight awkwardness between them. ‘So, how was it then? I want to see all the photos.’

‘I don’t think we took many.’ He and Eppie had spent most of the time just being with each other, walking, touching, eating, and loving, too engrossed in each other to think of anything else or of recording the setting of their deepening love. He quickly heard how this might sound and tried to back track. ‘Much too lazy.’

There was silence between them until Fluff laughed as if it didn’t matter. ‘Oh well, that’s what honeymoons, holidays, are all about isn’t it?’

Matt was glad when they had reached his car and the moment passed. It would be easier now they had a job to concentrate on. They worked well together and Matt had full confidence in his team. Fluff’s intuitive instinct to spot when the smallest thing was out of place, especially when a witness was lying, was a great asset.

Detective Sergeant Sam Withers performed his usual trick and shot into the back seat of the car at the last moment, closing the door just as Matt backed out of his appointed parking place. Another perk of making DI and one that Matt really appreciated as it cut out all that scrabbling for the left-over places on the forecourt and the danger of becoming one of the unlucky losers forced to park in the rear yard.

Sam broke into his thoughts. ‘Hawkes were bloody hopeless last Saturday. Glad you are back for next week or Morris’s lot will wipe us out for sure and take the cup.’

For the first time in his adult life Matt knew he didn’t want to turn out to a wet, muddy pitch on Saturday to get sweaty and bruised. He would rather be with Eppie, but he also knew that he wouldn’t be able to walk away from the team now that the season had started; only an injury or work would allow him to do that. He was spared from thinking about it as the traffic through Leamington became busy, and he had to concentrate to get them safely down the Parade and out towards Warwick.

The magnificent Warwick Castle dominated the town, and it always reminded Matt of the summers he spent working as a tourist guide as he slogged his way through A-levels.

That final summer was difficult as he tried to decide between following his love for history or of becoming a policeman like Granddad. Dad was pushing him to go to university, while Granddad quietly trusted him to make his own decisions.

Dad had tried to use Granddad’s suspension as a lever to get Matt to do as he thought best. Matt still held an unspoken resentment towards him for that. However, in the end, it was as if Matt had made the decision many years before when he had listened, rapt, to Granddad’s tales of his life in the force.

Matt knew that his Granddad was innocent, and his loyalty paid off a year later when Granddad was cleared. When he returned to work, he seemed to have lost his pride in the force and died just four months later—but not before he knew Matt had decided to follow in his footsteps.

Sam and Fluff’s voices brought him back to the present as they spoke in unison.

‘On the left, overlooking the River Avon, we have the magnificent Warwick Castle. The first fortification here was built by Ethel…?’ They both laughed at the usual sticking point.

Matt joined them, used to their teasing about what used to be his running commentary when they first got together as a team. ‘Ethelfleda,’ he supplied, not for the first time.

‘Sister of Edward the elder.’ Fluff and Sam added in a chorus, making Matt laugh.

CHAPTER 5

A
lthough Lisa had only just begun her massage, Clive felt as if they had been enclosed in the room for hours. Every sense was straining, waiting for the discovery of his work. He knew he needed to relax, to occupy his mind. He turned his thoughts to Ben and smiled.

One evening Clive had arrived home to find his pristine living room had suffered a pink explosion. Baby items, ranging from a carry cot to nappy bags, clothing, bottles, and several other items he couldn’t even recognise filled the room. His space, the very centre of his universe, had been violated so that he hardly recognised it.

‘Oh, Clive, please say you don’t mind,’ Mother greeted him. ‘I told Margaret that we would love to have dear little Emily for the evening.’

Clive stood in the doorway and took a deep breath, aware that he couldn’t show the fury that was boiling up inside him at this invasion. He allowed the breath to escape slowly through his mouth before managing a shaky reply. ‘But I know nothing about taking care of an infant, Mother.’

Mother had anticipated this.

‘You do not need to worry, Clive. Mrs Sinclair is going to stay on for the evening, just until Mummy and Daddy come back from the theatre.’

He squirmed as Mother placed her forefinger playfully on Emily’s nose. The baby gurgled back and Clive’s fingers itched to place his hands around that tiny neck as they had once itched to encircle Lizzie’s. It would be so easy to squeeze the marauder’s life away.

Blazing with fury, he searched for a way out. ‘Sorry, but I have to return to the office tonight,’ he said, trying hard to keep his voice calm.

Mother looked up at him as if she couldn’t believe that he could pass on this opportunity to hold and play with his precious niece. Clive felt the need to elaborate. ‘We have a problem with one of our major clients. Therefore, you can have her all to yourself, Mother.’

‘Please, Clive, you do know better. She has a name. Haven’t you, my little darling?’ mother corrected, giving Emily a loving look. In return, Emily waved her little arms with renewed vigour, as if she was thoroughly enjoying his discomfort.

Clive accepted the rebuke with a quick ‘Sorry,’ before turning to escape from the room. Trying to make sense of the murderous thoughts whirling around his head, he stood in the hallway for a moment, before picking up his briefcase from the hall table and stumbling out to take a gulp of the clean air.

As he left his home to the ravages of Emily that night, he felt bewildered and angry. Why hadn’t he seen this coming? How could she invade and take over the very centre of his space? Having Mother there was different since he had the control. However, it was too much for this thing to demand that all circulate around her like planets around a sun, there in his pale, understated living room with all her filthy baggage.

With no escape route planned, Clive headed on automatic pilot to the office. As he slid the silver BMW into its appointed place, he was surprised to find the office lights were on. Guessing it must be the cleaning staff, he hoped they had finished in his office.

Crossing beyond the tasteful reception area with its curved desk and potted plants, Clive took the lift to the office. As the doors opened, he was shocked to find Ben facing him. The last of his anger vanished, replaced with a tingle of excitement, which left him unable to speak.

With his dark curly hair and ready smile, Ben had an indefinable essence about him, making Clive’s heart thump as if it were trying to burst out and declare itself. He had felt the attraction from the start, even though in many ways they were complete opposites.

Ben was cheerful, open, outgoing, and American. Always ready to help and inclined to be untidy, immediate. Whereas Clive was compulsively neat, and although he could easily charm when it was necessary, he made sure his inner self was never exposed.

‘Hello.’ The voice sounded unlike his own.

‘Hi. Just finishing that contract.’ Ben seemed almost as shocked as Clive but he was still able to produce that wide grin.

As Ben stood aside for him to leave the lift, he fought to say something intelligent. ‘Forgot my mobile,’ he mumbled, feeling like an awkward teen.

‘I’ll wait on and go down with you.’

Clive nodded and made a show of going into his office to open and shut desk drawers. As he made his way back to the lift, he was thinking about how he could prolong this chance meeting. Ben saved him the trouble.

‘Fancy a drink or will you have to get back?’

‘No. That would be good.’ He hoped he hadn’t sounded too eager, for the thought of sitting across from Ben sharing a casual drink had been just one of his fantasies over the last few months. Now that it was all happening, he felt unready, out of control, yet he knew he must seize the opportunity.

Ben led the way to a cosy looking pub, The Brown Horse, just off the Parade. It didn’t look like the type of place he would take Mother. It was obvious Ben had been here before as he pointed out a small corner table set against the far wall where the lighting was low and comfortable.

‘There’s a space. Grab a seat, and I’ll get a round in? What’s your poison? Real ale?’

Clive nodded. He didn’t mind drinking Mother’s bath water just as long as he could sit here quietly with Ben, although he hadn’t the slightest idea what he wanted to say or even how to say it.

He made his way through the office workers reviving themselves before the drive home to the table Ben had pointed out, settling himself with his back to the wall to watch Ben as he waited at the bar. When Ben turned to flash him a smile, Clive felt something jerk in the region of his heart. Was this love? Love for someone else was alien to him. Could he allow such an unaccustomed feeling to enter his life? Clive had never thought of himself as gay, either, but maybe this strange exhilaration meant he was.

Feeling confused, he was still searching for topics of conversation when Ben returned with the drinks. Luckily, Ben, like most Americans, wasn’t so tongue tied, and as he responded he felt himself relax.

Ben placed the pints on the table while he put the jingle of change in his pocket. Clive quickly slid a bar mat under each glass and Ben laughed as he sat down opposite.

‘Obsessional.’ He shook his head sadly.

He realised how it looked and quickly covered his tracks. ‘Living with Mother, I’m afraid.’ Clive made sure that, after taking a large, nervous gulp of his drink, he replaced the glass firmly on the table, even if it did go against his instincts.

‘They sometimes have a group on here. A folksy, pop sort of mix.’

‘Are they any good?’ Clive was trying to sound like he understood the kind of event Ben was describing.

‘Not bad. The lead is a character, should have been a stand-up. He picks on someone in the crowd and, as long as it’s not you, it’s wild.’

He could see from Ben’s face that he enjoyed that sort of evening and knew he would be willing to endure all just to be with him. ‘So, when are they on again?’

‘Won’t be till next year now. They’ve gone on tour…Ireland I think.’ Ben downed the rest of his pint. ‘I’ll let you know, if you like?’

‘Yes, I’d like that,’ he said, surprised to find Ben’s glass already empty. ‘Another?’

‘Sure,’ Ben said

It was after that second pint that Clive began to enjoy himself. That was until a hen party of ten strong—the intended bride complete with tiara and fairy wings—claimed the table next to them.

The women were noisy, drunk, and fully expected the rest of the people in the bar to accept, without a complaint, their stupid behaviour and loudness. Clive could see that most of the male patrons had decided to grin and bear it, except one or two of the older men at the bar who finished their drinks and left. The women clientele were all smiles and one or two even began cooing about the coming marriage in a similar way to how Mother and Margaret cooed over Emily.

They tried to carry on with their conversation and ignore the party until one of them, the one with mousy blonde hair that reminded Clive of Lizzie’s before she had dyed it that ridiculous shade of red, staggered towards Ben and flung her arms around him dumping herself onto his lap, much to the great amusement of her friends.

One of the group called out, ‘you planning to be next then, Tassie?’

As she ran her fingers through Ben’s hair, Clive’s hands were hot with the desire to choke the life out of her. He could see that Ben was trying to be gracious and remained smiling but also that he was getting more and more embarrassed at the vulgar comments and suggestions from the other girls as they egged Tassie on. Tassie’s hand was now sliding up Ben’s inner thigh.