Flowers for the Dead (29 page)

The more he had seen of Sandra, the more he had fallen in love. When she played violin she was transformed. Colours danced around her like fireworks exploding, her eyes closed in concentration, her short black bob swinging and swaying with her movement, reminding him of the beat of a crow’s glossy wing in flight.

She had melted his heart utterly and brought out his protective streak. He had been unable to resist looking after this helpless young thing. At first she had been so lost in her music that she had not noticed the little things he had done. Lately though, he felt that had changed and that she appreciated what he did.

So why not go for it? Fortune favoured the brave.

Besides, he knew he had to act fast as he had heard her parents talking about having her hospitalised. For some odd reason they were worried about her state of mind.

His heart bursting with love, Adam sat on the bed beside Sandra. The frame gave a gentle creak. He lay down carefully, spooning up against her, and slid his arm over her tiny form. She groaned slightly in a murmur of pleasure and nestled back into him, and Adam was in heaven.

Minutes passed and Adam felt completely at peace. Crooning her name in a low voice, he tucked the unconscious woman’s silken hair behind one ear and gently kissed her neck.

“Oh Sandra, I love you,” he whispered. “I’m here; rest easy, my love.”

Her body stiffened. She flipped over suddenly, eyes wide open.

“Who the…!” she yelled, trying to scoot away from him. But she was still in his embrace and he held her tight with one arm, clamped his hand over her mouth with the other. He was so stupid not to realise what her reaction would be. Of course he should explain who he is.

“It’s all right,” he said. “I-I’m, I’m Adam. I’m the one who’s been…l-looking after you.”

She froze, her pupils so dilated that her deep brown eyes looked black.

“Will you be quiet?”

Her eyes grew even wider.

“Yes? You’ll be quiet?” he checked.

Two seconds passed then very slowly she nodded, her eyes locked onto his the whole time.

“Okay, that’s good then.” Adam breathed a sigh of relief and eased his hand away, leaning his head down to nestle into her neck.

Sandra screamed like a runaway train. Almost deafened Adam in his right ear. He pressed his hand quickly back in place, snapping her face back with the force of his movements. 

“Don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t,” he begged, but she was writhing against him like Lisa had done. He hooked a leg over her body and rolled on top, pinning her down with his entire body, using his weight advantage against the tiny Asian woman. Her frightened eyes looked up to him. But even behind his hand she was still screaming.

Why wouldn’t she shut up? What was wrong with her?

Adam had got no choice, he had to shut her up quickly. He pulled his left hand back, grimaced because he didn’t want to do this, but smashed her in the face anyway. Fist connected with jaw with an audible crack. That seemed to stop her, for now. Maybe he should try talking to her again?

“You’re being cruel, Adam,” said a voice he didn’t so much hear as feel. Irene’s spirit reared up inside him, soothing and scolding in equal measure. “I struggled against you too, but what I really wanted was for you to step up and take control. Be a man. Once I surrendered to you it was wonderful – feel how happy I am now.”

She was right, of course. What Sandra was really screaming for was help freeing herself of the shackles of a physical life. With Adam, she could be as free as the music she played.

“It’s true,” confirmed Lisa.

Suddenly everything made sense for Adam as he realised why fate had brought he and these women together. It was so he could release them.

He slid his hands around Sandra’s neck and let experience guide him to the best spot to dispatch her quickly. As he squeezed, he forced his lips over hers.

She struggled, because even though this was what she wanted he knew that it could not be an easy step to take. She was being so brave. But within seconds her desperate flailing weakened to pathetic little flaps, then flutters, and finally nothing.

He felt her find peace, settling inside him and wrapping her soul around his the way a cat coils around its master’s leg. Now it was he who moaned, this time in pleasure. It was the sweetest sensation, the moment when a woman finally gave herself to him.

He looked down at her sweet lips and ran his finger over them gently, remembering the Box of Smile. Even the thought of it made a smile blossom on his own mouth as he pulled out the craft knife he had purchased specially for this event in case things went wrong.

Prepare for the worst, hope for the best.

The job would admittedly be more than a little rough because he wasn’t absolutely sure what he was doing, this being his first time and all, but it would suffice. He kissed those perfect lips once more, then let the knife bite deep into the skin until he heard metal click against teeth, and saw scarlet bloom. It made him think of the blood drops from Sleeping Beauty’s finger when she pricked herself on the spindle and fell asleep for a hundred years. It was a cheering thought as he sliced at flesh until he had cut a hole in Sandra’s face, taking a circular chunk from her chin to her nose and a decent slice of her cheeks too. He had to take as much flesh as possible to ensure the lips stayed in perfect shape and condition.

It was a shame about the rest of her but he arranged the primroses he brought with him on her chest and in her hair. Her face did not look attractive any more, not with her teeth and jawbone showing through the bloody maw he had created, but he knew she would appreciate the sentiment behind his actions.

Once he had created his Box of Smile he would hold her kiss for all eternity. He could not help feeling artists across the world would be impressed with his memorial to Sandra’s physical form.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

~ Helenium ~

Tears

PRESENT

Unbelievable! Not only has someone broken into Laura’s flat, but they have also stolen the camera that was supposed to help identify them. Stealing her birthday photograph was rubbing salt into the wound.

Laura piles on hat, gloves, scarf, bulky coat, then marches straight round to the police station, stomping along so hard that she is soon out of breath and leaves a trail of vapour behind her like a steam train.

Sergeant Biggs is not on duty today, so it is a new constable, PC Nahum who gets it in the neck.

“I am sick of being fobbed off, I want to speak to someone in authority,” she says, after explaining everything.

“There doesn’t seem to be any proof of a crime being committed,” the female officer begins.

“He stole my camera!” Laura despairs. “How can I get proof when the person doing this has stolen my camera!” She raps on the desk with a finger to punctuate each word. “Make a note of this. I don’t care if you think I’m mad, I want an official note of this complaint.”

“All right, all right. But you need to calm down a bit. We have some leaflets here; and perhaps you could keep a diary of events.”

Oh, for goodness sake. “Already am,” Laura snaps. “I’m not leaving until I see you make a note detailing everything I’ve been through.”

It takes a while. PC Nahum is at great pains to point out that there is little that can currently be done to help Laura, and that her best course of action is to continue with the diary. Eventually she also agrees that some officers will be sent to look at Laura’s flat and take a statement.

“But we’re very busy at the moment, so it may take a few weeks,” PC Nahum warns.

Still, Laura feels partially satisfied when she leaves. She has at last won a battle, though admittedly only a tiny one. And the war against her stalker has only begun.

***

New Year, new you – that is the phrase that seems to be everywhere currently. Mike knows it’s a load of old tosh, but it concentrates his mind, pushing him towards a decision that seems to have been building the entire festive season.

On New Year’s Day, first he digs out the cigarettes from his pocket and crushes them in his hands. His heart gives a little along with the packet, but it is time for him to quit.

Next, he trudges out to his car and cleans out the empty crisp packets and stray bits of paper on the floor. Daisy helps him with great delight; like her mother, she likes things clean and tidy, and often nags him about housework.

“Have you made any resolutions?” he asks his daughter.

She tilts her head to one side, pondering and making a long “umm” noise as she thinks.

“To build a teleporter to take us to Disney,” she says finally.

“Huh, that’s a good one, wish I’d thought of that,” Mike muses.

“Well, you can help me make it,” she says generously.

“Thanks. But you’ll have to tell me what to do; I’ve never built one before.”

His daughter leans forwards, a more snub-nosed, softer-jawed, slightly blonder version of her mother. “I’ve never built one either, Daddy,” she whispers. “We’ll learn together.”

That night, Mike picks up the phone and dials his friend to tell him his other resolution.

“Hey you…” Simon says when he answers.

“…Would you like to boogaloo?” both men say in unison. Mike is trying to remember how on earth that ended up being their catchphrase, but is at a loss. It is a shared nonsense that always seems to have been present for some bizarre reason.

“Happy new year, mate,” Simon offers.

“Yeah, cheers. You too,” Mike replies. The memories of him rubbing away tears with his huge paws at midnight the night before are still fresh in his mind. “How are you doing, anyway?”

After a colourful description of Simon’s night down the local with his wife, Mike’s eyes are nearly watering again, this time for very different reasons.

“Right, well, change of subject,” he chuckles. “Got a bit of news for you. I’ve decided to take you up on the offer of a job, if it’s still open, of course.”

“Mate, that’s the best Christmas present you could have given me,” the Detective Chief Inspector laughs. “You sure?”

It had been a big decision, but in the end Mike has decided to go for a fresh start. Somewhere where every corner is not full of memories of Mags.

“Mags will always be with me, there’s no moving on from that and I don’t want to. But I can’t live my life trying to keep time still, frozen at the point when she was alive. Christmas has proved that to me,” Mike replies.

Somehow, he and Daisy will find their own way forward. And they will do it in a new home, in Reading.

“How long do you reckon it’ll be before you’re with me?” asks Simon.

“Dunno – I haven’t told my boss yet. I’ll have to see what she says. Probably a couple of months.”

“Well, you got a lot to sort out, too. A new place to live…”

“New school for Daisy. Yep, not looking forward to that, but it’s got to be done, eh.”

Soon the pair are lost in talk of cases past and present – far more absorbing than estate agent chat.

***

PRESENT

Laura’s diary reads like a cross between a housework log and romance novel:

Monday 29 December - ironing done. Pink rose left on my pillow.

Wednesday 31 December - washing up done, bedding changed, clothes washed. Dress laid out for night out (I didn’t wear it).

Thursday 1 January - meal cooked and waiting for me when I got home from night out. Milk bought. Bouquet of flowers put in vase on table.

Sunday 4 January - food stocked up with all my favourites. Cupboards cleaned.

Friday 9 January - Hot cup of tea waiting for me when I got home from work, and my favourite crisps.

Saturday 10 January - flowers delivered, on sofa, along with box of Thornton’s chocolates.

Sunday 11 January - bath run for me, with pink rose petals scattered on it and candles lit around it, and a chilled glass of wine on the side.

It has been a fortnight since she last went to the police station, but enough is enough. Despite it being her day off, she gets up bright and early on Monday morning, bins a bouquet of flowers that have been arranged on her dining table, and is standing in front of Sgt Biggs by eight am.

She already has her speech ready and delivers it with aplomb. 

“If someone doesn’t take my complaint seriously, I am going to be forced to go to the police commission. I am a woman living alone, being terrorised by a person who is repeatedly breaking into my home, and this force is refusing to do anything about it.

“In addition to contacting the police commission, I will be going on Facebook and Twitter, launching a website, and of course going to my local paper, all to spread the word about the incompetent way this matter is being handled – unless someone in authority speaks to me, right now. And I mean right now.”

Sgt Biggs’s hair makes a momentary halo round his ruddy face as he recoils slightly from the sight of a small, angry hurricane of determination standing before him. Laura gains great satisfaction from that.

“Come through, I’ll make a note of your complaint, and pass it on to CID,” he says. “They might not be able to get out to you until tomorrow though, but I will make sure they know how urgent it is.”

“Tomorrow will be fine. But any later than that and I go through with my threat.”

As the desk sergeant’s halo settles, Laura smiles in grim satisfaction at another battle won.

***

TWO YEARS AGO

If he was honest, Adam had known from the start that Alex was not right for him. But you can’t help who you fall in love with, can you?

She always had lots of people around her, and lived in a house share. It made things very awkward for Adam. With the amount of coming and going in the house there was a far greater risk of being caught, plus the thoughtful things he did to look after her often went unnoticed, with all five residents assuming that the other had done it.

The good thing, though, was that the house was on St Andrew’s Drive, right next to Skegness beach – which was one of Alex’s favourite places to go when she wanted to be alone. Which seemed to be often. She was unemployed, frequently bored after filling out job application after job application for shop assistants, waitresses, barmaids, all without luck. Her bedroom had a fine view of the sea, too, but she seemed to really feel alive when she was outside gazing at the waves or the long, flat stretch of golden beach that went on as far as the eye could see and beyond in either direction.

This day, as usual, Adam hovered behind her, hidden in the low hummock of the sand dunes. It was a freezing day towards the end of January, and Alex had not only crammed a hat on her head but pulled her coat hood up too, so none of her shoulder-length curly hair escaped in the icy wind which raced across the sea.

Hands shoved firmly into her pockets, Alex hunched up against the wind and walked slowly along, pausing occasionally to simply gaze. In front of her the icy grey sea was topped with white foam and in the distance, just before the horizon, were the windmills creating electricity. The clouds were slate grey and looked as solid as if a deity had carved them from stone, but every now and again a miraculous ray of sunshine bravely broke through to cap the waves with gold.

There were no cries from the seagulls. They stayed strangely silent in the wild weather, as they pecked at starfish pulled from shallow pools in the sand.

Adam adjusted his grip on the flowers he clutched and took a step closer to Alex, a force stronger than he urging him forward. As soon as he moved out of the refuge of the sand dunes the wind rushed at him, tearing at his clothes. It was absolutely bitter. Pinpricks of rain tattooed his face, making it tingle with pain. He adjusted his scarf, but even underneath his hat his ears remained painfully cold.

But he did not care, all that mattered was Alex. She looked so sad that he felt his heart breaking for her. There seemed nothing that he could do to make her happy.

Right from the very first moment that he had set eyes on her, Adam had seen an incredible aura. Alex had been on a daytrip with friends down to London, a treat to cheer her up, he had discovered later. He had spotted her trailing along behind them, trying to hide sadness as she looked in shop windows. Yet every time someone from her group looked at her, or talked to her, she would hide her sorrow behind a smile or a quip.

None of her friends had noticed her disconsolate expression and she hid it well. It was only after Adam had done a spot of digging in her house that he had found out the cause of her troubles. Four months earlier Alex had been dumped by her boyfriend when she discovered she was pregnant – then she had miscarried.

Adam was furious on Alex’s behalf, immediately thinking of his gran and the terrible way she had been treated. If only he had met Alex earlier he would happily have taken her and her child on but that was not an option now.

Though only eighteen, Alex seemed to ache for a baby. When she was talking to children Adam noticed that all around her was a yellow glow of happiness, and he knew then that she would be a fantastic mother given half a chance.

Briefly he had entertained a dream of the two of them settling down and having a family together. He would put right the wrongs of his own childhood, and be a better parent than either of his. Unlike his father he would always be around, taking an active interest, and he would never ever allow anybody to hurt his child – not even its mother. But the more he had thought of it the more nervousness roiled across his stomach.

There were many things he could give a woman, but children were not one of them. He physically could not do what had to be done to make them.

Realising this, he knew why he had been brought into Alex’s life. There was only one way that he could relieve her sadness, and that was why he had followed her to Skegness beach this day.

Alex seemed to be waiting for him as she stood staring out at sea. There was nobody else mad enough to be on the beach in this weather, but Adam could see the raw beauty of it. It really was a wonderful spot his love had chosen, a good twenty-minute walk along the beach to the left of the truncated pier. Isolated, peaceful, he understood why she loved it so much here.

The rain was changing; there were little hard flakes of snow flurrying in the wind now. Alex threw her head back to the sky and let the flakes fall on her face momentarily. She lit up with pure yellow joy, and Adam knew the time had come.

He put the bouquet of white carnations down in order to free his hands, weighing it down with a piece of driftwood. A quick check left and right. Nobody was around. Excellent, this would be quick and easy. He had no hesitation this time, no second thoughts, no idea that he should try to explain or reveal himself. Striding purposefully, gloved hands swinging easily by his side, he ate up the distance between them.