Death Bed (26 page)

S
am tried to quell her nerves as she knocked on the inspector’s door. She was a detective sergeant. She had a perfect right to talk to her superior officer, but she felt awkward all the same. There was no doubt Geraldine had started acting strangely, snapping at Sam for no apparent reason, rejecting any approach as though she couldn’t even bear to talk with the sergeant any more, although at first she had been so friendly.

‘Yes?’ Geraldine barked.

‘Another woman’s been reported missing.’

‘What?’

‘A woman called Victoria Benning was last seen leaving an office party in Baker Street on Monday evening and since then she seems to have vanished. She hasn’t turned up at work and apparently she’s a very reliable employee, according to her boss. She called it in, said they’ve tried to contact the missing woman but she hasn’t answered her phone.’

‘Monday. That’s only three days. Can’t her boss look into it if they’re so worried? There’s no reason why her not turning up to work should concern us. People take time off work all the time without telling anyone.’

‘I know, but it seems this woman had been drinking when she was last seen, and she lives in Camden where the killer’s been operating.’

‘Well, let’s hope she turns up at work tomorrow and gets a bollocking for being a bloody nuisance,’ Geraldine said irritably. ‘Is that it then? Only I would’ve thought you’d be busy right now. I know I am.’

Sam hesitated.

‘Can I have a word with you?’

‘What is it?’

Geraldine sounded dejected. She didn’t invite the sergeant into her office, but Sam went in anyway and closed the door.

‘Is something wrong?’ Sam asked.

‘Other than working on a murder investigation with two victims and no suspect?’

‘I just wondered if I’ve done something to offend you,’ Sam burst out, forgetting all of her rehearsed preamble.

‘No.’

Geraldine didn’t even look up from her screen.

‘Only if you’ve got a problem with me – with anything to do with me or my lifestyle - ’

‘What are you talking about?’ Geraldine sounded surprised.

When Sam raised her eyes she could see the DI was angry, but she’d come too far to withdraw.

‘It’s just that since we had that talk about – personal stuff

- you’ve seemed different.’

‘Different? What do you mean, different?’

‘I mean, we were getting on so well – at least, that’s how it felt to me. But the last few days you’ve been different, hostile and bad-tempered with me, and I can’t help wondering.’

Sam took a deep breath.

‘Geraldine, if you’ve got a problem with me, or with the friends I have, or with my lifestyle choices, then I find that unacceptable and - ’

Geraldine glared at her.

‘Are you accusing me of discrimination? I’m the one who’s been discriminated against, ever since I arrived here. Oh I know what they’re saying about me behind my back. I’ve overheard the whispers. County Mounty, I don’t know anything about life in the city, I should go back where I bloody well came from – you told me about it yourself. And you dare accuse
me
of prejudice.’

Sam was taken aback. Apart from anything else, it was grossly unfair to be told she was being judgmental, when she was the one who had warned Geraldine what other people were saying behind her back.

‘You can’t deny you’ve been awkward with me since you met my friends,’ she retorted, determined to pursue her point now she had broached the subject.

‘I don’t feel the slightest bit awkward with you, or your friends. I don’t give a toss what you get up to in your spare time. It’s no concern of mine. As long as it’s legal. Other than that, frankly I couldn’t care less. Why on earth would I? You really think I’m some kind of bigot? You’ve got some nerve, sergeant.’

Geraldine leaned forward suddenly, put her head in her hands briefly and took several deep breaths before continuing in a gentler tone.

‘Look, it’s not you, Sam. There is something bothering me, but it’s me not you, OK?’

‘So you do have a problem with me being a lesbian.’

Geraldine’s voice rose slightly again.

‘Are you completely self-obsessed? Doesn’t it occur to you that other people might have problems that have nothing to do with you and your sex life. This is about me. Me! It’s got nothing to do with you.’

She stared wretchedly at Sam.

‘It’s my problem. So perhaps you’d like to get back to work now, which is what you’re here to do. All this is none of your business anyway. Now go.’

‘But if it’s affecting our relationship, then it is my business.’

‘Relationship?’

‘Our working relationship.’

‘It isn’t. The one has nothing to do with the other.’

‘Well, I’m sorry but it has. You’ve been aggressive towards me for days, and it’s getting worse, and I’d like to know why. Have I done something to upset you?’

‘No, it’s not you.’

Geraldine shook her head.

‘Look, I’m sorry if I’ve been vile-tempered.’

‘So if it’s not me, then what is it?’ Sam hazarded.

Geraldine didn’t answer for a few seconds.

‘It’s complicated,’ she admitted at last.

Sam was baffled when Geraldine began talking about her mother, with obvious difficulty.

‘You know I told you I was adopted at birth.’

‘Yes.’

‘The thing is – I only found out about it recently.’

Once she had started she seemed keen to talk so Sam sat down, gratified that Geraldine was confiding in her.

‘I felt so let down by the woman who brought me up. She allowed me to go on believing she was my real mother when all the time I’d been adopted and knew nothing about it.’

‘I expect she intended to tell you,’ Sam said. ‘She was probably just waiting for the right moment, until she thought you were ready for it. I suppose the longer she left it, the more difficult it became, and then perhaps she died unexpectedly before she had a chance to tell you. She can’t have been that old.’

‘She was only in her sixties and yes, it was unexpected. She had a heart attack, without any warning.’

‘That’s no age. She probably meant to tell you. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m not excusing the way she kept you in the dark. It would have been best if she’d told you right from the start. But she chose not to and you have to accept that. It must feel weird but nothing’s really changed has it?’

Geraldine didn’t answer.

Sam could only imagine what it must have felt like to learn she was adopted, with no natural connection to any human being she knew. When she was alone, her isolation must feel absolute.

‘So, this is what’s been playing on your mind recently? You could have told me.’

‘Yes, maybe I should have. Anyway, thanks for listening. Now, let’s get back to work!’

Having been dismissed there was nothing else Sam could do except leave the room, but she turned round on the threshold.

‘If you ever want to talk some more,’ she said softly, ‘you always know where to find me. I’m a good listener.’

She had a feeling the inspector needed a friend.

‘Sam,’ Geraldine called out as Sam was closing the door.

‘Yes?’

Geraldine sighed.

‘Nothing. It’s just that I’m sorry if I’ve been – unreasonable.’

‘Don’t worry about it.’

‘And Sam - ’

‘Yes?’

Geraldine hesitated as though struggling for words.

‘Thank you again.’

A
s she got ready for bed that night Geraldine brooded over her conversation with Sam. Her colleague had been helpful, pointing out that Geraldine’s adopted mother had probably wanted to tell her what had happened. The right moment might well have been difficult to determine once her mother had allowed a certain period of time to elapse and Geraldine could imagine her mother worrying over the tricky task, putting it off time and again, just as she herself had prevaricated over telling Celia about her own move to London. The longer she had stalled the harder it had become to speak out.

Perhaps her mother had been planning to say something before Geraldine’s father had left them, at which point her mother had gone to pieces. Maybe after that she couldn’t risk the emotional pain of losing another person she loved. She and Geraldine hadn’t exactly seen eye to eye, and it wasn’t as though it was an easy secret to reveal at the best of times. It must have seemed increasingly difficult as the years passed and then, suddenly, it was too late. She died without ever telling her daughter the truth.

Geraldine told herself she was keeping an open mind, but a visceral excitement nonetheless grabbed her whenever she thought about meeting her birth mother. Sitting on her bed, she clutched the photograph she had been handed by the social worker at the adoption agency and stared at the face of her sixteen-year-old mother. They could have been identical twins if they hadn’t been separated by a generation. All at once she felt unexpectedly tearful. The prospect of becoming stupidly emotional in her thought processes filled her with dread. It would make her incompetent at her job.

Her work was the one area of her life where she hadn’t totally screwed up. If she failed there she would have to acknowledge that her whole life was a disaster. Deep down she knew she was driven to succeed in her job by more than an abstract sense of justice, she needed her work to protect her own self-esteem. It wasn’t her ego at stake but her sense of self-worth, because she had failed in every other area of her life. Her own mother didn’t want her, and the man she had loved most of all had left her after six years, and she still didn’t understand why. She fell asleep thinking about Mark and woke in the night startled by a dream of lying in bed beside Sam. All she could remember clearly was that they were both naked.

In the dream, Geraldine had been shocked at their situation but Sam just smiled.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Sam had reassured her in the dream,

‘you always know where to find me. I’ll be right here.’

She patted Geraldine’s pillow.

‘But this is my bed,’ Geraldine had protested, scandalised. ‘I want you to leave right now. We have to get back to work!’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ the dream Sam had repeated, smiling. ‘You know where to find me.’

Geraldine glanced at her clock. It was almost time to get up. Her outrage at the dream had quickly faded leaving her bemused. She liked Sam, and hoped they might become friends, but she had never been attracted to other women and was faintly disturbed by the intimacy the dream had suggested. On balance she decided it must be an expression of her longing to meet her mother. She rolled over to open her bedside drawer and found the precious photograph. When the social worker had given it to her the image had already been faint. She had been keeping it carefully in her drawer to protect it from direct sunlight but couldn’t resist frequently taking it out to stare into her mother’s impenetrable eyes. She was horrified at the thought of one day finding it was no longer possible to distinguish her mother’s features. All she had was this one washed-out photograph and the prospect of her mother’s features vanishing filled her with a terrible sadness.

She placed the photograph back in her drawer, resolving to have it professionally framed with protective glass. If she had nothing else, she would at least preserve this one memento of her mother; and a properly treated photograph would survive indefinitely. As she closed the drawer on her mother’s face it occurred to her that the killer might be hoarding his victims’ teeth motivated by a desire to keep something of them that would survive their deaths. It was a bizarre idea which she dismissed at once. It was time for her to set to work objectively and meticulously, a skilled detective committed to getting results. She had to stop being distracted by her own emotional quest to find her mother, which threatened to cloud her professional judgement.

L
ost in an uneasy twilight zone between consciousness and sleep, Jon was no longer aware of any pain from the chains rubbing against his wrists and ankles, although he could still feel them weighing him down. Behind closed eyelids he knew the light had been switched on and voices drifted past him. He struggled to retreat into oblivion but something was pulling him back. It was the sound of Victoria, yelling.

‘No! No! Get off me! Get away!’

‘Come on now, open wide,’ Jon heard his captor’s voice urging her. ‘Open wide.’

Jon jolted awake, shocked into attention. He might be dying but he wasn’t going to lie there and do nothing whilst this man forced himself on Victoria. Jon and she had a pact. They were in this together.

‘Stop it!’ Jon’s voice sounded hoarse and distant. ‘Leave her alone. Fucking get off her!’

He began screaming, a rasping, high-pitched screech, determined to make enough noise to remind the man he wasn’t alone with Victoria, anything to distract him from his sordid purpose.

‘Stop! If you hurt her, if you touch her - ’

‘I’m only looking,’ the man said.

He sounded very close.

Jon opened his eyes and saw the man staring down at him.

‘She’s got strong teeth.’

Jon’s screams stopped abruptly.

‘Teeth?’ he whispered in surprise.

‘Yes. What did you think I was looking at?’

The man scowled. Victoria was sobbing.

‘What did you think I was going to do to her?’ the man bellowed in sudden rage. ‘You thought I wanted to kill her, didn’t you?’

Jon didn’t see the man’s arm move, but felt a blow on the side of his head before everything went black. Then bright white spots of light were dancing in front of his face and he heard Victoria calling out his name.

‘Say something. Jon, Jon! Did he hurt you? Jon?’

Panic stifled him and he struggled to breathe.

‘Leave her alone,’ he cried out feebly. ‘Kill me. Kill me instead.’

Death would be a relief. He had suffered enough.

‘Please.’

There was a strange rushing noise in his ears.

‘Let her go. Let her go! Kill me instead of her!’

He opened his eyes. Through a red haze he could see his captor, one arm raised above his head. The man’s mouth was open. He was yelling.

‘Don’t talk to me like that! Don’t you dare! You’re not going to die here, do you understand? No one dies!’

The man’s eyes were rolling wildly and Jon saw his arm descend as if in slow motion. He felt no pain this time, just a numbing cold. He tried to open his mouth but couldn’t move.

Everything was empty.