Urban Myth (4 page)

I
managed to sleep for about two hours. It was Michael who woke me by coming into the bedroom to tell us he was hungry. It never ceased to amaze me how often he said that – and how much he actually ate during the course of a day. It was a mystery why he was still as skinny as a garden hose.

Nicole was already awake so she was the one who responded by asking him to go downstairs and put the kettle on.

‘I’ll be down in five minutes to organize some dinner,’ she said.

She turned on her side and looked at me. Her gaze was steady and the warmth of her breath was sweet. Then she smiled and it lit up her face and made me realize yet again how lucky I was to have her as my wife.

‘You were restless,’ she said. ‘Were you dreaming?’

‘I can’t remember.’

‘Well I slept like a log,’ she said. ‘And I feel much better now. In fact I’m looking forward to finally opening that bottle of champagne.’

I reached up, stroked her face with the tips of my fingers. Her eyes were sleepy and sexy, her lips soft and inviting.

‘I was worried your birthday had been completely ruined,’ I said.

She shook her head. ‘Don’t be daft. It’ll take more than a dead old snake and a foul smell to dampen my spirits on the first day of our vacation.’

I pulled her close, buried my face in the nape of her neck. She put her arms around me and we stayed like that for perhaps a minute. I could hear a bird’s repetitive melody outside the window and I was so comfortable and content that I didn’t want to get up. But then Michael’s voice reached us from downstairs. He was shouting
something
about not being able to find the tea and coffee.

Nicole rolled onto her back and expelled a sigh. ‘I’ll go down. Why don’t you nip in the shower and freshen up?’

After she’d stepped out of the room I heaved myself up and looked out of the window. The sun was beginning to set, pulling the
brightness
out of the sky above the forest. My thoughts flashed back to what had happened earlier with the open doors and it caused my breathing to grow a little shallow. This wasn’t good. I needed to unwind and accept that there had to be a straightforward explanation for it. I just didn’t know what it was yet.

I stepped into the en-suite and fired up the shower. I got the water as hot as possible without burning my skin and stood under the scalding spray for endless minutes, letting it batter the paranoia out of me. Afterwards, I dried and dressed and went downstairs.

Nicole had raided the refrigerator and was preparing a dinner of chicken in breadcrumbs, fries and baked beans. Having laid the table in the kitchen she asked me to open the champagne. Tina appeared having slept in her clothes. Her hair was ruffled and her eyes looked dry and heavy.

‘Would you like some bubbly?’ I asked her.

She cracked a smile and I realized that she was feeling much better. I handed her a glass and half filled it with champagne.

‘What about me?’ Michael said. ‘Can’t I have some of that?’

‘You’re too young,’ I told him. ‘Help yourself to a soft drink. There are several bottles in that cupboard.’

He let the air out of his lungs in a long hiss and moaned under his breath that it wasn’t fair. Then he went to the cupboard while I poured champagne into glasses for Nicole and me.

‘Here’s to the birthday girl,’ I said, raising my glass.

I reckoned it was high quality plonk which would have set the
landlord
back a fair few pounds. It reminded me that I wanted to talk to Mr Slade. I tried the landline phone again but it still wasn’t working. I found my cell and dialled his number. Once again it went through to his voicemail. I left another message for him to call me back and hung up.

The guy was beginning to annoy me. He should have returned my call by now. He was being totally unprofessional and inconsiderate. I wanted to know about the snake and the smell and whether or not he
had dropped in unexpectedly. I resolved to give him a piece of mind when eventually he did get in touch.

I was famished by the time we all sat around the table for dinner. Eating together cheered us all up. We even had a laugh about that disgusting smell that had greeted us on our return from the walk. Michael said it was almost as bad as when Tina farted. Tina retaliated by saying that she was going to find a snake and put it in Michael’s bed.

Nicole found a tub of ice cream in the freezer and served it up for dessert with strawberry sauce and crushed almonds. When we’d finished eating we retreated to the living room with a box of chocolates and what was left of the champagne.

Once I’d figured out how to work the television controls we settled down for a relaxing evening. Outside, the night had descended on the forest and we were all mesmerized by the unworldly silence of the moor. The moon had been swallowed up by gathering clouds and it was pitch black.

We found ourselves watching a news programme and I was about to channel hop with the remote when I heard the newscaster mention the New Forest.

‘Listen up,’ I said, raising a hand to silence the others.

‘The girl’s body was found in a shallow grave close to the village of Burley,’ the newscaster said. ‘It’s believed she’d been stabbed to death. John Bradbury has just sent this report.’

I could hardly believe it. A young girl had been found murdered not far from where we were. She hadn’t yet been identified but police believed her first name was Genna because of a tattoo on her right ankle. The reporter voiced over a video of Cranes Moor and there was a close-up of a small tent surrounded by people in pale blue overalls. The camera pulled out to reveal dozens of police officers searching the moor for clues and there was even a shot of a police helicopter.

‘That must be the one we saw,’ Michael said.

As I stared at the screen I felt a chill creeping through me, making the gooseflesh rise on my arms. This was the sort of thing that happened back home in Texas, where gruesome murders are an everyday
occurrence
. But not here in these beautiful, peaceful surroundings.

A middle-aged man identified as Detective Chief Inspector Jeff Temple was seen addressing the media. He had thin brown hair and
was wearing a suit. His voice was deep and gruff as he appealed for anyone who might know the victim to come forward.

When the report was finished I muted the TV and turned to Nicole who was sitting on the sofa with her legs folded beneath her. Her face had suddenly become pinched and tense.

‘How far away is Cranes Moor?’ I asked her.

‘About two miles, I think,’ she said. ‘It’s over towards Burley.’

I shook my head. ‘This is incredible. I thought we’d had our full quota of shocks for today.’

I sat next to Nicole and topped up our glasses. I felt like getting drunk. How else could I hide my darkening mood?

Predictably the news item had charged the atmosphere in the room and none of us felt much like talking afterwards. We desperately needed a distraction so I searched the channels for something to watch and found a movie starring Ben Stiller, which had only just started. Half an hour into the film I noticed that I was the only one still awake. Michael was lying on the floor in front of the TV and Tina was slumped in an armchair. Nicole was cuddled up to me and I could tell from her breathing that she was out to the world.

My own eyelids were heavy and had begun to droop. I was surprised at how tired I was considering I’d slept for a couple of hours earlier. My senses were dulled and I suddenly felt floppy and listless.

I hauled myself up off the sofa and woke the others.

‘Come on,’ I said. ‘It’s time we all went to bed. We can’t sleep down here.’

All three of them protested but eventually I managed to herd them up to their bedrooms after switching off the TV and lights downstairs.

Nicole was so drowsy she didn’t even bother to go to the bathroom. She just dropped her dressing gown on the floor and climbed quickly between the sheets. After cleaning my teeth, I checked that the kids were tucked up in their beds then shuffled back to the master bedroom and collapsed on the bed in a stupor of exhaustion. Nicole did not even stir. I switched off the bedside light and closed my eyes. The darkness closed in on me. My body went into lockdown as my muscles eased into a state of total relaxation.

It was a strange sensation – almost like being sedated.

T
emple stood at one end of the incident room in Southampton’s police headquarters overlooking the city’s sprawling docks. On the board behind him were pinned maps of the New Forest and gruesome photographs of the dead girl lying in her shallow grave. There were close-ups of the tattoo and her wounds.

‘OK, listen up,’ he said above the buzz of conversation. He waited until he had the attention of the six detectives and four uniformed
officers
who were sitting on plastic chairs in front of him. Then he coughed to clear his throat before carrying on.

‘As yet we don’t have an ID on the victim,’ he said. ‘Her prints are now being processed and we should know soon if she’s on the
database
. There’s been a slight delay for some reason. In the meantime we have the ankle tattoo. Genna. It may or may not be her name but it’s a distinctive mark so hopefully it will ring someone’s bell.’

He pointed to one of two maps on the board. It showed the whole of the forest – all two hundred and eighteen square miles of it and the coastline to the south with towns and villages including Lymington, Barton-on-Sea and Highcliffe. To the west, close to Hampshire’s county boundary with Dorset, were the towns of Ringwood and Fordingbridge. To the east the forest stopped a few miles short of Southampton, the nearest city to it.

The team knew the layout well enough. They also knew that there were probably more bodies buried in the forest and that it was sheer luck that had led to the discovery of this one.

‘Here’s where she was found,’ Temple said, pointing now to the other map, which was a blown-up section of the first. ‘It’s an isolated spot close to a quiet road that runs between Burley and the village of Crow. So one possibility is that her killer – and for now we’ll assume
it’s a lone male – drove there, parked up, and carried the body onto the moor at night.’

He paused to let them take in what he’d said and to dwell on the maps for a few moments. He wanted them to appreciate that this was probably not going to be an easy case. The forest was a desolate place, especially the area around Burley. Outside the villages properties were few and far between, with vast tracts of heath and large wooded areas.

Temple looked at DI Angelica Metcalfe, who was sitting at the front.

‘Have you checked missing persons?’ he asked.

‘They just got back to me, Guv. But there’s nobody named Genna on their list.’

‘If she was killed three or four days ago she might not have been reported missing yet,’ Temple said.

‘But if she was local I expect she would have. Those forest
communities
are relatively small – even the towns. Everyone knows everyone else.’

DI Metcalfe – or Angel as she was fondly known – had recently become a DI. It was a well-deserved promotion. She was one of the sharpest and most efficient detectives Temple had ever come across. She was also the most attractive by far – with brown eyes, brown hair and a pretty, angular face. She was thirty-five and had served out her apprenticeship with the Met in London before moving south a year ago after a bitter break-up with her long-term boyfriend.

‘So how goes it with the media?’ Temple asked. ‘Are we going to get blanket coverage or what?’

Another detective, DS Mark Bannerman, said, ‘The press office has assured me that every national paper will be carrying the story tomorrow along with the appeal. The interview you gave at the scene has already gone out on TV and radio and they’ll continue to run with it through the night.’

‘Sounds good,’ Temple said. He looked at his watch. ‘The search of the area was called off for the night a while ago because of the dark. It’ll resume at dawn and I want at least two of you there to monitor progress. We also need to canvas homes and commercial properties within a two mile radius of the murder scene.’

The team then started discussing every aspect of the case from the various theories to the detailed assignments and who would
undertake
take them. Angel volunteered to go to the canteen for coffees and
sandwiches
and insisted on paying for them out of her own money.

As she walked towards the door, a brash young detective named Paul Simmons, who had only been transferred to Southampton from Basingstoke CID a few days before, eyed her shapely bottom in a pair of tight grey trousers and said to the uniformed officer next to him, ‘What a great ass. I’d like to have that bouncing up and down on me.’

He chose the wrong moment to speak because there was a sudden lull in the conversations around him and his voice carried across the room. Angel heard it and wheeled round on her heels, her face tight with fury. But before she could say anything Temple beat her to it.

‘Listen here, you ignorant cretin,’ he fumed across the large desk that separated them. ‘If you ever make a remark like that again I’ll have you booted off the force so fast your scrotum won’t touch the ground. You got that?’

Simmons was so shocked by Temple’s anger that it was several seconds before he was able to respond with a barely perceptible nod.

‘And I think the lady deserves an apology, don’t you?’ Temple added in a tight, measured voice.

Simmons swallowed a huge lump and turned towards Angel who seemed as surprised as he was by their boss’s outburst.

When he spoke it was in a tremulous, quavering voice. ‘I … I’m sorry, ma’am. It won’t happen again.’

Angel bit on her lower lip and Temple saw that she looked
uncomfortable
. Had he overreacted? Was she embarrassed that he had leapt in to defend her honour in such a public way?

She gave him an unreadable look, then shrugged her shoulders and continued on towards the door.

The tension in the room was palpable during the next hour,
especially
after Angel returned with a tray full of coffees and sandwiches. But she joined in the discussion as if nothing had happened and, to his credit, so did Simmons. But not once did Angel make eye contact with Temple and he assumed this was because she was pissed off with him.

He finally left the office at one in the morning and drove home to his small semi-detached house on the outskirts of Southampton. He’d bought the place after his wife Erin died because their former home
held too many memories for him. The property was only ten years old and had two bedrooms, a large kitchen and a small garden with a concrete patio.

It was modest but nice. He’d bought a few new pieces of furniture from the Ikea store in Southampton. Cheap stuff, but solid enough, and the strange Nordic names of each product made him feel that he was buying something exclusive and personal. Never mind that the same furniture graced millions of other homes.

He took off his jacket and went into the living room to pour a whisky and light a cigarette. Then he dropped onto the sofa and switched on a TV news channel in the hope of catching himself being interviewed. He was still waiting for the report to come on when ten minutes later he heard his front door open and then close. He got up to pour another drink – this time a neat brandy with no ice, her favourite late-night tipple.

‘Was that macho rant really necessary?’ Angel said when she walked into the room and tossed her handbag on the sofa. ‘I thought poor Simmons was going to have a heart attack.’

Temple handed her the brandy and said, ‘The prick deserved it. He was out of order.’

‘That maybe so, but I could have done without you drawing
attention
to it in such a spectacular way. I felt like crawling under the nearest desk.’

‘I’m sorry. What he said wound me up.’

‘I can understand that, but you really don’t have to fight my battles just because we’re seeing each other.’

‘I’m his boss. If he steps out of line it’s my job to make sure he knows it.’

‘Yeah, well if you went around bollocking every detective who drooled over me you’d be in a permanent state of hysteria.’

Temple shrugged. ‘OK, I take the point. It won’t happen again. So how cross are you on a scale of one to ten?’

She looked at him and couldn’t suppress a smile. ‘Nine and a half, but I’m sure I’ll get over it after I’ve had a cuddle.’

She swigged back some brandy and walked into his arms. As always he felt the heat from her body surge through his own. The embrace lasted at least a minute and if they hadn’t been so tired and it
hadn’t been so late it would almost certainly have been the prelude to sex. But they both knew that they needed to conserve their energy for the day ahead, so they finished their drinks and went upstairs. They had a quick shower together and towel-dried each other before jumping into bed and turning out the light.

Before dropping off to sleep, Temple once again reflected on their relationship – something he always did on the nights she came to the house to stay with him. He knew it was wrong on so many levels. She was a colleague. She was twelve years his junior. They were making love in the same bed he had shared with his wife. But he also knew that she had reignited in him the spark of life that was extinguished when Erin died. Angel gave him something to look forward to outside of work. She made him feel better about himself and she took his mind off the horrors he frequently encountered as part of his job.

She would eventually want a proper relationship with someone she could have a future – and a family – with. He didn’t doubt that. Right now she was just filling in the time between the serious stuff. But although he knew he’d be devastated when she ended it, he also knew he should be grateful because the affair had already served a purpose. It had wrenched him out of the abyss of despair and self-pity that he had been drowning in for years.

And that, surely, had to be a good thing.