Behind A Twisted Smile (Dark Minds Book 2) (12 page)

It was her turn to say yes and she nodded.

“First, though, you’ve got to understand, this is all off my own bat. Nobody back at the station has a clue I’m here or what I’ve been doing. The expense of coming here doesn’t matter a whit to me, as my sole aim is to catch this vile person out and have him convicted for his appalling crimes. I wonder if you’ve guessed who it is. Martyn Cousins. But that’s not his real name. He was christened Thomas Hammond but changed it as soon as he could by deed poll.”

I sat back, letting my held breath out in a whoosh. She said
crimes
. What the devil had he done?

“Okay. You’ve got my attention. But why all the subterfuge? I know he’s a creep, but as far as I know, that’s all. ”

She flicked her hair back, revealing the scar I noticed earlier. “See this? Cousins did that. Three years ago. Only the bastard is so clever, I’ve never been able to prove it.”

“Bloody hell, that’s awful! I did notice. But why, what happened?”

“As I said earlier, it’s a long story.”

Amanda proceeded to fill me in, making sure I understood she wasn’t some kind of psycho on crack and completely off her head. She made it quite clear I should be wary of Martyn.

“I’d already come to that conclusion,’ I murmured. “But after seeing your scar, I realise he’s more dangerous than I thought.”

“I usually keep it concealed with face make-up. About four years ago, my favourite cousin met this guy. I say favourite cousin, but she was more than that to me. We were brought up together and were more like sisters. Anyway, Sally was a sports freak and adored trying out new things. For her thirtieth birthday, her parents—my aunt and uncle—paid for a course in diving lessons, and it was during these lessons she met Martyn. He was already qualified as an advanced diver, and he helped the dive coach with the practical lessons in the pool. Within a couple of weeks after their meeting, Sally and Martyn began seeing each other on a regular basis.

“She told me she’d met this amazing guy, a male nurse, who had literally swept her off her feet and they’d fallen in love. Sally hadn’t been out with many men…she took her physiotherapy job seriously and always said she’d little time for romance. But with Martyn it was different. Within six weeks, they’d moved in together, into Sally’s flat, and announced they would be getting married later that year. You can imagine how thrilled my aunt and uncle were, and so was I. Sally wasn’t ugly but always found it hard forming relationships. Anyway, they decided to move up to Scotland. Martyn was between jobs and heard they were looking for male nurses in a new hospital in the Edinburgh area. Sally, with her qualifications, was always in demand.” Amanda paused as she gave her drink a stir and took a mouthful.

“Poor Sally. Anyway, she sold her flat and they found a new place to live. It was a bit larger, but more modern and less expensive, and they were happy with their find. They said the money they’d saved would be put towards new furniture. Two months later, they got married, and this was the strange thing. Sally had always yearned for a fairy-tale wedding, the real thing with a five-tier cake, coach and horses, an amazing dress and a wedding breakfast at a country hotel. She was an only child, and my Aunt Betty was all for it. But instead, they had a civil wedding, and we only found out they were married after the event.”

She paused, and I noticed a glistening tear on her eyelash. “Sal never got to wear a white dress, her mother missed out on her only daughter being led up the aisle by her father, and I never got to be bridesmaid to my favourite cousin. Two months later, she was dead.”

I gasped. “What happened?”

“She died in a car crash. Crushed when the car she was driving ran off the road and went down a steep embankment.”

I waited while she composed herself.

“There was a local enquiry, of course, and the Scottish forensics decided she’d been forced off the road. Her car showed signs of paint marks from another vehicle. The paint samples were matched and discovered to have come from a dark-blue Toyota.”

“Don’t tell me,” I interrupted. “Martyn.”

She shook her head. “That’s the trouble. Checks were run, and a blue Toyota
had
been stolen in the area two days before, only they—the police—couldn’t pin it on Martyn. The car turned up a week later, dumped in a quarry. There were traces of the same paint from Sally’s car on it, plus dents and scrapings, but inside it was as clean as a whistle. Plus, Martyn said he was in Stirling for that day and night. It was checked out and it appeared he was telling the truth. Plus, he was able to produce a rail ticket, which, he said, he hadn’t handed in. To get to Stirling you have to go via Falkirk. I’m thinking he broke his journey there and backtracked to Edinburgh and somehow did the deed.”

“So you’re saying you think Martyn was responsible for your cousin’s death.”

“Yes,” she nodded emphatically. “Except I don’t
think
. I’m positive. He must have stolen the car and waited for the right moment. Sally always took that road at a particular time. Martyn claimed he left her at home that morning and went off to Stirling. And he did stay the night in the hotel—there was a bill to prove it.”

“But if there are no witnesses or a lack of evidence, what makes you so sure he caused her death. And what about you? How come you’re so scarred?”

“I have no proof whatsoever, and there’s little collaboration between the English and Scottish police services. The CCTV in the area around the hotel wasn’t working—it was a pretty dodgy hotel, actually. All I have to go on is my gut instinct and that Martyn was left a nice nest egg with the house he and Sally owned together. But don’t forget, it was bought out of the proceeds from the sale of Sal’s flat. I know Martyn claimed he was waiting for funds to clear because Sal told me, but I bet it was all made up. When Sally met Martyn, she was over the moon to have met the love of her life. After their marriage, I sensed that everything wasn’t as rosy as it could have been. Sal seemed nervous and depressed at times but wouldn’t tell me anything. I knew my cousin like I know myself, Moya. Something wasn’t right. Anyway, after she was killed, I was stupid to make my suspicions known very loudly. Martyn was taken into police custody and cross-examined, but it was all circumstantial, and he was soon released.”

She stopped and raised her eyebrows when I gasped. “What?”

“I’ll tell you in a minute…go on,” I said.

“About a month after all this happened, I came home late one night, and to my horror, I found someone waiting for me in the dark. My assailant wore black, including one of those horribly sinister balaclavas—that’s what I remember about him. And it was definitely a he, I’m convinced of it. He was tall and slim and strong in a wiry sort of way. As I was being attacked, I managed to grab hold of an anti-insect aerosol I’d left out on the kitchen worktop. I sprayed and sprayed into his eyes for as long as I could, and he eventually had to let go of me but not before he’d slashed his knife down the side of my neck. I can’t really remember what happened after that. I was so terrified. I know I must have got him, though, as he yelled out in pain, and then suddenly I was alone.”

I was stunned, and I sat staring at her as I took it all in and assimilated her words. If what she’d just told me was all true, then Martyn
was
a complete nutter, and as she said, highly dangerous. But I wasn’t stupid; some things didn’t add up. Would someone really go to all the trouble and expense of following me here?

“That’s just awful, dreadful,” I said, swallowing hard. “But what about where you work? Surely someone must have believed you? I presume you said you thought your attacker was Martyn.”

She looked away and sat staring at the horizon. It was an incongruous scene considering what she had just told me. There we both were, sipping cocktails in a Caribbean hotel on the edge of a fabulous beach. Palm trees swayed in the afternoon breeze, humming birds sipped nectar from hibiscus flowers, and the only sound, apart from the occasional rattle of the barman’s cocktail shaker, was the soft hiss of the waves as they rippled over the hot sand.

Amanda sighed. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? Have you any experience of working in a predominately male environment? Where testosterone is the order of the day and women are still only barely tolerated, let alone taken seriously? Not one of the fuckwits believed me. It didn’t help that I wouldn’t sleep with any of them, either.” She shrugged. “Egotistical pigs. No, I was labelled a troublemaker, and when they found no damning evidence to even suggest I’d had an uninvited visitor that night, including no sign of a break-in, one or two had the cheek to hint that I’d inflicted the wound on myself or that I’d been asking for trouble after suggesting Martyn had been responsible for Sal’s death. After the chief inspector had a ‘bit of a word’ with Martyn, he told me to shut the fuck up or else. They hadn’t found anything, and I was branded a liar and warned I’d be moved elsewhere or sacked if I didn’t toe the line. So I can do nothing now except keep careful watch. Martyn petrifies me, but I have to go through with this, and that’s why I followed you here and didn’t take the risk of speaking to you back home. Incredible but true, I swear.”

“I can’t believe it.” I shifted in my seat, feeling very uneasy. The whole scenario was fantastical. Not least because she had followed me out to the Caribbean. Or was I prejudging? If Martyn had attacked her after killing her cousin, then she had every right to be terrified. Didn’t she?

“You’d better believe it. And that’s not all. You remember I said he’d changed his name from Thomas Hammond to Martyn Cousins? I ran a check on it. As a teenager, Thomas Hammond was once a keen venture scout. One summer, he and the rest of the scout troop went off on a trip to Grindelwald in Switzerland. It was a disaster, because while they were there, two of the scouts were burnt to death in their tent. It was during the night, and the theory is the boys had lit their hurricane lamp and were smoking cigarettes inside the tent. They turned the wick of the lamp up too high, and the air inside the chimney became very hot, causing the chimney to explode. The shock of the explosion caused the bottom part of the lamp to fracture and the spilt oil rapidly caught fire setting the tent alight. Neither boy managed to escape because they were overcome by the toxic fumes from their foam mattresses. Thomas—Martyn—was in the next tent, and although he said he wasn’t part of the boys’ smoking venture, I’d bet my life he was involved somehow. More caution is taken these days and more checks are carried out.” She shuddered.

“Poor kids. If he wasn’t involved, then why change his name? I believe he’s one of those people who enjoy killing things and started young. I don’t know if he’s a sociopath because he does feel certain things. So you see, Moya, if I
am
right, then Martyn might not stop at graffiti. You could get badly hurt. You might be next.”

A chill crept in between my shoulder blades. She was right about two things. Martyn did seem to ‘care’ about me in a weird sort of way, but Amanda didn’t know the full story. She knew nothing about Martyn and his insinuations, his snide remarks and heavily veiled hinted threats. Yes, she knew Martyn and I were no longer a couple; I hadn’t mentioned anything about Evie and Martyn’s relationship to her. She mentioned that Martyn said he had been waiting for his finances to be sorted…exactly the same thing he had said to Evie.

I felt the blood drain from my face.

Even if I weren’t the one in real danger, could I say the same about my sister?

Chapter 16

After the
glorious Caribbean weather, I was a little shocked on my return to England. The new month brought with it blustery weather in the form of heavy rain and some ferocious winds. The journey home from the airport was ghastly. I didn’t consider lashing rain and hold-ups on the motorway much of a welcome. As I battled against the elements, I wished I had agreed to let Jon pick me up from the airport. For some reason, I didn’t want to inconvenience him and politely declined his offer of a lift. I felt great relief when I left the main highway, turned into my road and caught sight of my ground-floor flat. It may have been wet and cold, but after an eight-hour flight and lengthy car journey, the thought of a hot bath and slipping into my own bed filled me with joy. I enjoyed travelling abroad but always loved coming home to my own place.

I slammed the lid of the boot shut after collecting my suitcase, locked the car and shot up the path to the front door, my keys at the ready. Since finding Martyn sitting uninvited in my living room, I always kept them on me.
Once bitten, twice shy,
and I certainly wasn’t about to repeat my mistake.

The familiar smell of the flat assaulted me, and for a moment I felt disorientated. I suppose at the back of my mind I was fretting there might be something ominous waiting for me: more graffiti, dog mess, splattered paint, God only knew what. But as I walked through the hall and peeked into each room, it all seemed quite usual. Nothing out of place.

I had left the central heating on low while I was away, as the flat was part of an old, much larger building, and I didn’t want it to get too cold and damp in my absence, but now I was home, I needed to turn the thermostat up to a more comfortable temperature, as it felt cold. The building was erected in the early Victorian period, and I was lucky enough to have one of the larger flats. Mine, although on the ground floor, had its own entrance, a pretty upstairs bathroom and two good-sized bedrooms. I found the flat in a dilapidated state when it first came on the market, but I could see through the filth and revolting wallpaper. I spent every spare hour doing the place up, and I loved it. It was my home, my castle…mine.