Night Watcher (20 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Faint light filtered through the grating allowing him to see the spider that had come to investigate this strange creature invading his home.

It was beautiful.

Little crawling things fascinated him. He loved them. He had to possess them.

Absent-mindedly he reached out a hand and, lifting the spider between his finger and thumb, squashed it.

The spider was his creature now in the same way as the pigeon was. It had only taken a moment to twist the neck of the bird and watch the life fly out of the wing tips. The artistic bit though, that had taken slightly longer.

His left leg felt heavy and he wanted to exercise it to restore the circulation, but he did not dare move too much. He did not even dare to lift his head, although his neck had long since stiffened with the position he held. It would not do to let her know he was there, watching her.

He wriggled his fingers and rested his chin on his arm. It was the most he could manage to do without making a noise, for the walls and roof of his hiding place restricted him. It was like being in a coffin. Not that he objected to that. He liked the closed in feeling and the sense of security it gave him.

She was uneasy. He could tell. It was the way she sat on the edge of the sofa and gripped her glass, the way she gulped her drink, the way she looked around her as if she guessed he was somewhere nearby.

He closed his eyes to remember how she had reacted when she first entered the office. The memory was delicious. Her shock; her hysterics; and, something totally unexpected, her fainting fit. Eventually he was getting to her, wearing her down. It would not be long now until the final action when he removed her power.

Only then would he be able to rest.

The clatter of the glass against the wood of the drinks cabinet made him open his eyes. The woman was heading for the door. He smiled to himself as he noted the panic in the fast way she walked, the way she almost fell over her briefcase when she grabbed it and the way she scanned the corridor before she left the room.

He slithered backwards along the duct as silently as he could. When he reached another vent, one that allowed him to see along the corridor, he watched her until she entered the lift.

It was safe now. Her office was empty. He could do what he needed to do to make her doubt her sanity. She was already on the edge; it would not take much more.

The soft scraping noises he made, as he crawled along the duct to the woman’s office, did not concern him. The man in the office next door had already made himself scarce, which was typical of him, so that room was empty. And if the clerical staff heard anything they would think it was the central heating, or rats. None of them would be brave enough to investigate the air vents.

He hooked his fingers into the wire mesh frame and removed it before silently dropping onto the carpet. It only took him a moment to retrieve the bird and return to the coffin-like passage that was one of many weaving throughout the building like a gigantic maze.

A few moments later he hauled himself up into the turret room above the woman’s office. He sprawled, flat out and panting, on the dusty floorboards in the old, forgotten room, which perched in isolation on the corner of the building, soaring above the roof like some castle battlement in a fairy tale. He could imagine Rapunzel leaning from the corner window to let her hair down to an admirer far below. For a moment his mother’s voice sang in his mind, reading the old familiar story. She had made him believe that all women were princesses just waiting for their Prince Charming.

She lied to him and paid the price.

The room smelled of dust and mould, a tantalising aroma that never failed to arouse him. It reminded him of long forgotten vaults and catacombs, chambers holding the remains of people, once important, but now crumbling to dust. Places where the air had not stirred for centuries. This room reminded him of all these things.

It had been sealed so long it was doubtful if anyone remembered it was here, unless, of course, they took the trouble to look up from the street. He was glad it was sealed though, for it made the perfect hideaway. Somewhere he could be alone to think. This was his secret chamber where he was the only living thing. And, of course, he could access the roof space of the rest of the building from the trapdoor in the corner of the room.

His breathing was less ragged now and he pulled himself up onto his knees and then to his feet. The effort this took caused him to tighten his grip on the bird’s body. Apologetically, he stroked the bird, whose spirit was now joined with his. He laid it on the floor in a patch of light in front of the window. ‘Soon you will have company,’ he murmured, visualising the woman lying spread-eagled in the middle of the room. No sunlight for her, only the innocent deserved a place in the sun.

It was time to go; time to return to the darkness and plan his next move.

He lifted the trapdoor and lowered himself into the roof space.

CHAPTER FORTY

‘It couldn’t be Scott. He’d never do anything like that to me.’ Nicole twisted her fingers together, gripping them until the knuckles whitened. The problem was she was no longer as sure of Scott as she had previously been. She remembered the ridicule he had heaped on her ever since she had started to feel she was being watched, and even after he had seen the evidence of the dead animals he had still refused to support her. He had allowed the police to think she was imagining things. Why would he do that?

‘It was just a suggestion,’ Julie murmured.

The walls pressed in on Nicole, restricting her breathing, making her head spin, and Julie’s voice sounded so far away it did not register. If it was not Scott, who could it be? Who hated her enough? Nicole’s thoughts were all jumbled up in her head and she was having a problem thinking straight. ‘I don’t know what to do,’ she mumbled, looking at Julie with a mute plea for help.

Julie leaned over, placing her hand on Nicole’s knuckles. The hand was warm and comforting, and gradually Nicole’s fingers loosened. ‘Don’t worry,’ Julie said. ‘Your friends won’t let you down.’

Nicole’s lips quivered as she tried to smile. ‘I don’t know what I’d have done without you.’ It was hard for Nicole to admit she needed anyone, but once she had said it the walls started to recede and the tightness lifted from her head, so that she was able to think again. She would find out who was doing this to her and she would make them pay. They would be sorry they ever crossed her.

‘I feel better already,’ she said. ‘Let’s go to the coffee shop and get coffee and the biggest cream cake they have. I feel like company and if the sod who’s doing this is anywhere around he’ll see I don’t give a damn for him and his little jokes.’

Julie smiled. ‘That’s the spirit. Show them what you’re made of.’

Despite what she said and thought, Nicole’s senses were reacting to everything around her. She stared at everyone, convinced that if anyone was watching her she would know. That was why she noticed Harry hovering among the produce aisles in the food hall. Immediately she saw him, she knew he was watching and waiting for her.

Her breath hissed through her clenched teeth. ‘It’s Harry,’ she muttered, impervious to Julie’s flinch of pain as she grasped her arm. ‘That’s who it is. I might have known. I might have guessed. He’s such an insolent sod and he hates me.’ She glared at Harry and was not surprised when he turned and walked away. ‘See what I mean. He’s just been waiting his chance to get back at me. Well I’ll sort him,’ her breathing shortened until she was almost gasping. ‘He’s fired,’ she hissed. ‘I’ll get the wages clerk to give him his P45 tonight.’

‘You’re fired, Harry,’ she screamed at his retreating back. ‘Don’t be here when I come back.’

‘Don’t be too hasty,’ Julie murmured. ‘You don’t know for sure that it’s Harry behind all this, only minutes ago you thought it might be Scott.’

‘It’s not Scott. I never ever thought it was Scott.’ Nicole snapped. ‘Anyway Scott’s gone to France, so there’s no way he could have killed Freddie and left his body for me to find. It’s obvious. Harry’s the only one who could have done that.’ She removed her hand from Julie’s arm. ‘Well, are you coming for that coffee or not?’

***

Bill studied Evelyn. ‘You’re in charge of the office?’ She was older than the other girls, maybe in her forties, or fifties. It was hard to tell. The woman was tall, unsmiling and evidently enjoyed her position of power over the typists.

She fingered a gold chain that circled her neck. ‘Yes, I’m in sole charge of the clerical staff.’ One of the girls giggled making her frown. ‘Staff aren’t what they used to be,’ she sighed.

‘Is there somewhere quieter we can talk while my colleague interviews the rest of the girls.’

Sue tightened her lips, but took a notebook out of her purse.

‘There’s the mailroom next door.’ Evelyn stood up and smoothed her skirt. ‘We could talk there.’

There was not a lot of space in the room even though it was quite large. It was crammed with stationery cupboards; boxes of paper piled almost to the ceiling; two photocopiers; and a fax machine; while one wall was almost completely taken up with pigeon-holes overflowing with letters, bills, notices and all the detritus of a busy office. It reminded Bill of the stationery office back at the station.

Bill perched on the shelf in front of the pigeon-holes while Evelyn leaned against a photocopier. ‘Tell me what happened this morning,’ he said, smiling at Evelyn whose face immediately took on a pink tinge.

She focused her eyes on a spot just beyond his left shoulder and started to recite. ‘I arrived at half past eight as usual. I like to be early so I can sort the mail and allocate it to the appropriate department or manager.’

‘Yes, yes,’ Bill said. ‘If we can start with when the incident happened.’

‘Of course,’ Evelyn appeared flustered for the first time. ‘It was after Nicole, Mrs Ralston that is, arrived. I heard her get out of the lift and go to her office.’

‘What time would that have been?’ Bill scribbled in his notebook.

‘Oh, I don’t know, maybe ten o’clock, maybe half past. It was late for her; she usually gets in much earlier. I heard her tap on Mr Moody’s door, but I didn’t hear it open or any voices. He was in though, I know that.’ Evelyn hesitated as if she wanted to add something, but instead she carried on. ‘It was only a minute or so later that I heard her scream – I thought something must be terribly wrong because she’s always so composed, so proper, you know – so I ran along the corridor to see what was wrong. I thought maybe, you know, it might be rats or vermin of some sort.’ She fingered her gold chain. ‘We’ve had a bit of bother, lately. Scratching noises in the walls, that sort of thing – we’re not overrun, nothing like that,’ she added hastily. ‘But we thought we’d better catch it early before it became a problem, so we were taking care of it.’

‘And was it?’ Bill cut her off in midstream.

‘Was it what?’ She looked puzzled for a moment. ‘Oh I see what you mean – rats. No it wasn’t rats. I wish it had been. I could have coped with that better,’ she paused before continuing to speak in a voice so low Bill had to strain to hear her. ‘It was worse than that really.’ Her eyes glazed and she stared at Bill, although he was sure she was not seeing him.

‘Just tell me in your own time,’ he said gently.

She started, and her eyes seemed puzzled. It was as if she had been somewhere else and his voice had pulled her back to the present. ‘Of course,’ she said, taking a deep breath. ‘Well when I got there the first thing I saw was Mrs Ralston lying on the floor – I didn’t see the other thing right away,’ she gulped. ‘I was too busy pulling Mrs Ralston over to the wall so I could get her in a sitting position. Anyway she started to come round, although I don’t think she knew what she was doing right away. She kept pointing to her desk and muttering Freddie. Well I didn’t know who Freddie was, but I thought I’d better look at what she was pointing to,’ Evelyn broke off and started to breathe deeply. There was something reflected in her eyes, which might have been horror.

‘You’re doing fine,’ Bill murmured. ‘But I need to know what you saw.’

Evelyn’s head moved from side to side as if trying to rid herself of an image. ‘I don’t know why I’m so upset,’ she said. ‘It’s not as if I haven’t seen dead animals before, but this, it was so deliberate. How anyone could do such a thing.’ A tear slid down her cheek, ‘It was a bird, you see, just a pigeon. I mean, we’ve all seen dead pigeons you just have to walk in the square across the road,’ she paused, her hands gripping the edge of the photocopier. ‘But this pigeon,’ she swallowed, ‘it had been crucified, spread out on the desk with tin-tacks pinning it down,’ she looked at him with some kind of mute plea in her eyes. ‘It had to be deliberate. Don’t you see?’

‘Yes, I see exactly what you mean.’ Bill chewed the end of his pencil while he tried to puzzle out what it all meant. Maybe he had been too easily convinced last night that Mrs Ralston had imagined it all and there never had been any dead animals. According to Mrs Ralston her husband had seen them as well so what was he playing at by saying it was all in her imagination. Or had last night been imagined, but today’s episode been real, and if so was it Mrs Ralston herself who had put the pigeon there. If that was the case she was some sick woman.

‘D’you think you’re up to letting me see it?’ Bill hesitated to say pigeon because of the effect it had already had on Evelyn.

‘Yes, of course,’ Evelyn pushed herself away from the photocopier, smoothed her skirt and turned towards the door. ‘This way.’

She led him along the corridor, through a set of glass doors and into a more luxurious corridor. The carpet was thicker, the wall decorations looked more expensive and the ceilings had the original ornate mouldings of a century before.

‘This is the executive suite,’ Evelyn explained. ‘The director has an office here as well as the assistant directors and some of the managers.’ She gestured with her hand to a door they were passing, ‘That’s the boardroom and we also have several conference rooms.’ She stopped. ‘Here we are. This is Mrs Ralston’s office.’

Bill went into the room before Evelyn, hoping to spare her from seeing the dead bird again. He crossed to the desk, his feet silent on the deep pile carpet, and looked around. There was nothing there. ‘You’re sure the bird was on the desk?’ Furrowing his brow, he looked round the room. He noted the leather sofa; the drinks cabinet, still open and with a used glass sitting on top of it; the leather swivel chair and the mahogany desk with nothing on top apart from a few papers and a laptop.

Evelyn, who had been hovering in the doorway, crossed the room to stand beside him. ‘Well that’s strange,’ she fingered her necklace, turning it round and round on her neck. ‘It was there this morning. See, there’s the holes the tacks made.’ She shivered. ‘Weird that’s what it is,’ she muttered. ‘Weird.’

Bill traced one of his fingers over the tiny holes in the desk. ‘Where is Mrs Ralston? Maybe she can throw some light on the removal of the bird.’

‘I heard her go down in the lift about half an hour ago. She didn’t want me to stay with her, you see. I asked Ken, Mr Moody that is, to be with her, but he thought Julie would be better able to calm her down.’

‘Julie?’ Bill wondered if it was the same one he had met last night. It was possible, he supposed, given that Harry worked here.

‘Julie’s her friend. She’s the section manager of the food hall. If she’s gone to Julie, that’s where she’ll be, the food hall.’

‘Perhaps we can ask Mrs Ralston to come back up here?’

Evelyn regained her composure and, smoothing her hands down her skirt, said, ‘Certainly, I’ll see to it right away.’

‘Oh, before you go, just one thing.’

Evelyn turned, ‘Yes?’

‘Was Mrs Ralston alone in this office before she went downstairs?’

‘Yes,’ Evelyn smiled grimly. ‘She practically threw me out, didn’t want my help.’

‘I see,’ said Bill, noting the unspoken word – bitch.

***

Harry was not entirely sure whether he was shaking with rage or cold. He was not a man given to strong emotions, but now, as he leaned against one of the freeze cabinets, the sound of Nicole’s voice resounded in his ears and his rage mounted. How dare she fire him? He had not done anything wrong. If it had not been for Julie being there he was not sure what he would have done. His fists clenched. He had never hit anyone in his life, but he had been very near to it when Nicole’s voice had soared over the shoppers’ heads, making them turn and stare. That was the worst of it, everyone had heard her.

He did not hear Betty coming towards to him. ‘She’s gone now. Come and have a cup of coffee, Harry.’ Betty’s voice was quiet and full of sympathy.

‘I’m okay.’ Harry removed his shoulder from the freeze cabinet and stood upright, although his insides were churning at the memory.

‘I heard what she said.’ Betty grasped his elbow. ‘There was no need for it. And anyway, she can’t fire you just like that. She needs a reason.’

‘Since when did Mrs Ralston need a reason for anything she did.’ Harry’s voice was bitter. ‘And how am I going to tell Babs.’ His shoulders slumped as despair swallowed him into its black hole.

‘Come and get that coffee. It’ll calm you down.’ Harry did not resist when Betty guided him towards the restaurant.

The roasted smell of the coffee was more pleasurable than the actual taste, which was bitter on Harry’s tongue. He took his cap off and laid it on the chair next to him, it no longer mattered if he was improperly dressed. A band of sweat lined his forehead where the edge of the cap had rested and he rubbed it with his fingers, tracing them upwards to where his hair had started to recede.

He pushed the cup away from him. ‘No offence, Betty, but I’m not in the mood.’ He grabbed his cap and stood up. ‘I’ll be off then,’ he turned the cap round and round between his fingers, leaned towards Betty to hug her, but drew back at the last minute as he thought better of it. She might misunderstand. ‘The sooner I’m gone the better.’ He turned away from her, feeling as awkward as a schoolboy saying farewell to a favourite teacher.

‘Take care, Harry.’

His shoes were heavy and pressed on his corn, which was throbbing again, as he lumbered out of the restaurant and through the food hall to the back exit. He could feel Betty watching him and wanted to turn and wave to her, but could not bring himself to do it for fear the tears, that were pressing on his eyelids, would spill over.