Nothing but Meat: A dark, heart-stopping British crime thriller (2 page)

Barratt was coherent but in shock, Simone cradled his head
and stemmed the blood flow until the paramedics arrived. She accompanied him to
the hospital and had her busted lip stitched up, her nose wasn’t broken but it
hurt like hell and the nurse warned her that she was likely to expect two big
black eyes within the next couple of days.

Her body was throbbing by the time she got home and all she
wanted was a hot bath and a long sleep.

She stood outside and removed her heavy work boots, not
wanting to walk them into the house. As she bent to unlace them her back
protested and she caught a sickly whiff of sweat from her filthy skin and the
metallic stench from the blood-soaked shirt that clung to her body like a death
shroud. She felt polluted; as if she had been poisoned and she was so tired it
hurt. She entered the house and went into the lounge where her husband Martin
was sitting on the couch watching the television. He was quickly flicking
through the channels as if trying to piece together conversations or make sense
out of random scenes. She could see that his shirt and belt was undone and he
had his feet on the coffee table, it was littered with beer cans and she could
smell the malt tang of alcohol in the air. He didn’t turn around he just said,
‘You’re late.’

‘It’s been a busy day.’

‘Don’t get sarcastic with me,’ he said.

She moved further into the room and into his line of sight,
he looked at her with a hint of disgust. ‘What happened to your face?’ he said,
but it was just words, he wasn’t interested in her reply and before she could
answer he turned his attention back to the television. ‘I ordered pizza,’ he
said, ‘there’s some left in the kitchen if you want it.’

She went through to the kitchen to find one half chewed slice
of pizza remained; it was cold and congealed and stuck to the cardboard like an
island in a sea of grease. Simone ignored it and went upstairs, she stripped
out of her filthy clothes and sat on the edge of the bath, she closed her eyes
and for one sweet moment the calming scent of lavender bubble bath and the
delicious soothing heat of water running over her fingers took her mind away
from the pain in her lip, her aching joints and her disastrous marriage.

‘I told you to ring if you’re going to be late.’

Her eyes snapped open. He was in the bathroom with her,
leering at her. She stood to face him, she was naked; it made her feel vulnerable
and he knew it. She tried to cover herself as much as she could and said, ‘I
forgot. I was too busy.’

The water thundered into the tub and her heart pounded in her
chest, his eyes narrowed as he moved in close to her, even with bare feet she
had a couple of inches on him and she looked down at his tight jaw and his
stocky frame. She could smell his breath and turned away but it was a mistake
to take her eyes from him. He punched her hard in the stomach. Simone was
completely unprepared for the blow, her lungs emptied in an instant and she
dropped to her knees. She looked up at him defiantly, using all her strength to
do so and he slapped her face sharply with a quick flicking motion and pointed
a stubby finger into her forehead. He would never normally touch her face for
fear of exposure but she knew he was taking advantage of her injured state and
that any damage he inflicted would be camouflaged. ‘Don’t you fucking talk back
to me,’ he spat. ‘Next time I’ll use this.’ His leather belt was wrapped
tightly around his other fist, the cold metal buckle swung closely to her face.
She flinched away from it and looked down, conceding, allowing him to dominate.
He stood over her for a while watching her silently and then turned his back
and walked out of the bathroom. ‘Don’t be too long,’ he said. ‘I want to go to
bed.’ He slammed the door behind him and she stayed on the floor while she
caught her breath. Her stomach ached and then cramped and she rushed to use the
toilet, but then she finally got what she had been waiting for. It felt like it
had taken an eternity to come as she lowered herself into the glistening foam.
The water was way too hot but the heat that turned her skin bright pink and
enveloped her damaged shell redirected her pain and closed her mind to
everything beyond the sanctuary of the bathroom.

2

Simone pretended to be asleep while Martin got dressed. He
left the bedroom and went downstairs and she listened to him moving around, to
the clatter of his spoon and cereal bowl and to the muffled sound of Sky News.
Then he was on the stairs; they creaked beneath his weight and the door brushed
the carpet as he came quietly into the room and over to her. When he leant in
and kissed her forehead it took all she had not to flinch and pull away from
him. She opened her eyes.

‘You’re not going in today are you?’ he asked.

‘No. Got the day off to recover.’

‘Okay. See you tonight,’ he said. ‘I love you.’

‘Love you too,’ she replied but the words were meaningless
and hollow.

Simone waited until the front door clicked and then pulled
her aching frame out of bed. She tried to draw the stiffness from her body by
stretching and touching her toes. Her tendons and muscles loosened up and the
freedom of movement felt good. She carefully peeled the dressings from her face
in the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. The bruises had blossomed
overnight and were now heavy and purple around her eyes, and her lips were
swollen and crusted with dried blood. She blew her nose and the tissue came
away thick with dark red but she could now breathe clearly though her nose and
she relished the experience. She stood naked in front of the mirror and looked
at the bruises that illustrated her aches and pains. She angled her body left
and right wincing occasionally with the effort. Dark, tender patches of damaged
skin mercilessly tattooed her arms and shoulders and back but she spent little
time considering them. She was free from stab wounds and for that she was
thankful. Her thoughts went out to Barratt and as she examined her body, she
pressed the flesh of her belly and gasped, her muscles ached terribly but the
pain was solely internal; there was no bruising or swelling, her stomach felt
flat and painfully tight as if she had spent an hour doing sit-ups.

The hurt Martin had inflicted on her was only painful,
thankfully there was no lasting damage and no evidence of punishment. The
results of her quick examination caused a feeling of relief to wash over her
but the feeling was chased down by one of shame and her heart felt heavy with
the dark weight of unhappiness. She was in pain but she was alive, she knew
last night could have been so much worse but yet she felt little joy.

She looked past the mirror and out of the bedroom window, she
could see the rooftops and the clear morning sky and suddenly craved fresh air;
she needed to cheer up and decided to walk into town for breakfast.

She hated feeling down, and while she showered, she used her
years of experience to occupy her mind and distract herself, making it easier
to bury the dark feelings of guilt and shame somewhere inside her.

She fixed her hair by simply tying it back and then tried to
do something with her battered face but there was little she could do and
simply chose not to care how she looked. She dressed in a flowing skirt and
strappy shoes; simple clothes that made her feel more like a woman and less
like a punch bag.

Simone stepped out into the day and breathed deeply, looked
to the sky and closed her eyes to the sun as it gently kissed her face. She
loved summer mornings, the day was cool but the sun was warm on her skin and
she could feel it healing her wounds. She shielded her eyes with sunglasses and
began the short walk into town. She felt the heat of the sun on the back of her
arms and legs, and considered for the umpteenth time how amazing it was that
the sun was a hundred million miles away and yet still had the power to burn
her skin, even kill with its heat. That searing hot ball of fire gave life to
the planet and without it there would only be darkness, nothing but the
freezing black vacuum of space. Cold and dead, she thought, like her soul, a
corrupted storage locker where she wrapped her bleakest emotions in a blanket
of secrecy and buried them deep down.

She pushed the bad thoughts away and reoccupied her mind;
there was going to be a solar eclipse in the next few days and an event like
that would give her the perfect excuse to find her camera, blow the dust off the
lens and get back into photography.

She strolled along the high street and picked out some hair
products in Boots, and as she passed the lipstick counter on her way to the
till and stole a glimpse of herself in a small, distorted mirror - I won’t be
needing lipstick for a while, she thought as she tongued the stitches in her lip.

Simone wandered into a small independent coffee shop that was
a personal favourite of hers and ordered a cappuccino and a blueberry muffin.
The shop was fairly quiet and as she turned to find a table someone behind her
said her name.

‘Simone?’

She spun around to face the last person she expected to see
standing opposite her and tried to look nonchalant but knew her eyes betrayed
her. ‘Detective Inspector Nathan West,’ she said. ‘What a surprise.’ She wanted
to keep a straight face but couldn’t help but smile. He beamed back and her
heart pounded in her chest as a sudden and glorious rush of sunshine poured
into the dark cavity of her soul, filling it with light and warmth.

The only man she had ever truly loved moved towards her, hugged
her, and kissed her cheek carefully.

‘You look good.’ He said sarcastically, his eyes scanned her
face and his eyebrows lifted.

‘Free stitches are perks of the job.’

He ordered a coffee.

‘Got time to sit?’ she asked.

‘Grab a table. I’ll be over in a minute.’

They sat opposite each other and his dark eyes penetrated her
soul. He read her face, all seeing, all knowing.

She sipped her coffee and winced when the hot rim touched her
lip.

‘That looks painful.’

‘It is.’

‘What happened?’

‘I got head-butted by an angry Romanian.’

‘Ouch.’

‘Yeah ouch.’ She smiled at him, weighing him up. ‘So come on
then big shot, what are you doing back here?’

‘It’s the old man; he’s not doing so good.’

‘What’s wrong with him?’

‘Cancer. He’s in hospital and I’m staying at the house.’

She was stunned. ‘Sorry, I didn’t know.’

‘You couldn’t have. We should have kept in touch.’

‘You know it’s difficult.’

‘Difficult,’ he repeated and quietly pondered her remark.
‘How is he?’

‘
He
is fine - recent
promotion, even more money, better prospects and all that.’

‘What about you?’

‘I’m okay.’

‘Are you happy?’

‘Of course,’ she answered a little too quickly. She saw the
flash in those dark eyes and knew that West had noticed. She changed the
subject. ‘How are you holding up?’ she said. ‘You look tired.’

He turned his coffee cup on its saucer and waited before
speaking. ‘It’s horrible waiting for someone to die. Thought the old bugger was
indestructible.’

‘Me too, I’m so sorry.’ She touched his hand and felt an
electric connection between them. Did he feel it too? Probably not, he had
moved on, moved away. She pulled her hand back and they sat in silence for a
while. To her it was a sign of closeness that even after all these years conversation
between them was never forced and the silences never uncomfortable.

‘Still taking pictures?’ he said.

‘Not really.’

‘That’s a shame.’

‘Still lighting fires?’

His eyes flicked left and right, scanning the room quickly,
assessing the location of eavesdroppers. He gave a boyish grin. ‘Often as
possible.’

She sighed. ‘When will you learn?’

‘When it’s too late I suppose.’

She heard the trill of a mobile phone from West’s jacket
pocket. His brow furrowed and he took the call.

After a moment West said, ‘I’m on leave.’ He glanced at
Simone and then sighed and nodded. ‘Okay. Fine.’ He hung up and looked at her.
‘That was work; I have to report to your station, I’ve got to see DCI -’

‘Jackson?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Something big has happened. Scotland Yard has pulled me off
my leave. Got a big terrorist threat in London and we’re stretched to the
limit. I’m the highest-ranking available officer, I’m already in Cambridge and
they want me to show my face.’

‘Do you know what’s happened?’

‘No details yet, but it’s already been classified as a murder
investigation.’

‘Jesus, that’ll hit the news in no time.’

He slurped his coffee and gathered his things. ‘I’m going to
have to go Sim.’

She smiled inwardly, she liked it when he called her Sim; he
was the only one who ever had and, even though they hadn’t seen each other for
years it only helped to reinforce her belief that they had always been entirely
comfortable with each other.

‘Okay, see you soon maybe?’ she said.

‘Give me your mobile number. If I get any time to myself I’ll
call you.’

‘Oh.’ She flustered, images of her phone ringing while Martin
was around flashed through her mind. ‘Um, give me yours, I’ll call you,’ she
said casually but it was dreadfully transparent and she could tell that West
knew exactly why she had suggested it but he pretended not to notice and
quickly reeled his number off while Simone jotted it onto a napkin.

‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I’ve really got to go.’ He quickly leant
into her and kissed her lightly on the cheek. ‘It’s good to see you again Sim.’

‘You too Nathan.’ She could feel herself blushing. ‘You’re
going to be late.’

‘I’m already late, and I’ve got to find the fucking station
yet.’

Simone made her way home. She knew a local murder
investigation was going to be big news, she also knew it would have to be
something heavy for them to pull West from his leave and have a London copper
investigating a case in Cambridgeshire. She wondered what could have happened.
She was eager to get back to work but she knew it would be a few days yet, her
injuries wouldn’t prevent her from working but they were painful and unsightly
and officers with bruised faces didn’t exactly give the service a good image.

Hungry for more information she pulled out her mobile and
dialled fellow police officer Lucy Peterson. Lucy answered, ‘Hello.’

‘Lucy, it’s Simone. What’s going on?’

‘The shit’s hit the fan; I don’t have any details yet, but
I’m hearing rumours about a body at Bishop’s Thorpe Wood. We’ve got a meeting
with Jackson in about half an hour. How’d you know something had happened?’

‘I have my sources.’

‘Then you probably know more than me at the moment.’

‘Do me a favour Lucy and keep me in the loop.’

‘Will do. How are you? I heard it was a rough one yesterday.’

‘Painful, but I’ll live. Thanks for asking.’

‘No problem. Take care.’

‘I’ll see you when I get back to work. Keep in touch.’ She
hung up.

The news had broken by the time she had walked home and
switched on the TV. Sky News, BBC News 24, details were slim but it was
national. The ticker bar at the bottom of the screen read: Breaking News: Body
found in Cambridgeshire. They occasionally looped the same aerial view of Bishop’s
Thorpe Wood and the police activity within – uniforms, cars, blue and
white crime scene tape and the big white forensics tent peeking through the
dense foliage. She left the news on in the background while she tidied up the
lounge. The room was a tip, she hadn’t been in there since last night and she
knew well enough not to expect Martin to clear up after himself; he was way too
macho to demean himself with woman’s work. The coffee table was still littered
with empty beer cans and the room smelt of stale Heineken.

‘Home sweet home,’ she muttered to herself as she put the
rubbish into a black bag and opened all the windows and the door to the back
garden. She thought about Nathan and tried to push the thoughts away but she
couldn’t – would she be clearing up his beer cans if they lived together?
It seemed unlikely. She thought about being with him and a feeling of warmth
washed over her. Embarrassed with herself she pushed him to the back of her
mind and concentrated on Sky News as a reporter was now on the scene. He did a
reasonable job of filling the time with little substance: the quiet
Cambridgeshire village of Bishop’s Thorpe has been rocked by the shocking news
of a murder in a nearby wood. The unidentified victim was found in the early
hours. Cambridgeshire constabulary will release a statement later today.

Simone didn’t like to be at home; she enjoyed filling her
time with work so she busied herself around the house and waited for the police
to make a statement. She also waited for her husband to come home. No doubt he
would bring her flowers.