‘Well,’ Summers took a deep breath and sighed as she closed the Freddy Clark file, ‘we know that our guy lives in or around the city, has done for a long time and knows how to get to and from places without being seen by anyone or any cameras.’
‘Ok.’
‘And he is right-handed,’ she added.
‘I know why you wanted this case, it’s understandable…’ said Kite, staring into his coffee, ‘but where the hell do we start with this thing?’
Summers took out her hip-flask, added some to her coffee and stirred. Kite rolled his eyes.
‘Well, that’s not gonna help,’ he said.
Summers stood and dropped the Freddy Clark file in front of Kite. She then sorted through the other sixteen files, dropping eleven more in front of Kite and leaving five to the side.
‘So what does this mean?’ he asked.
Summers sat back down, finished her drink in one go and threw the polystyrene cup in the bin.
‘The twelve files in front of you happened within three square miles of each other. Autopsy reports show the use of a weapon, usually a knife but twice a screwdriver. These killings are all carried out by a right-hander.’
She pointed to the five cases she had out-sorted. ‘And these… I don’t know.’
‘You don’t know?’
‘The bodies had been moved, or they were strangled or beaten as well as stabbed. One had been robbed as well,’ she stated.
‘So you’re saying,’ said Kite, ‘that these five cases are not down to The Phantom?’
‘I’m saying,’ Summers replied, ‘that in the twelve cases in front of you we can determine at least a slight pattern, in method and location. The other five just don’t fit.
‘Other than the lack of evidence,’ Kite pointed out.
10
Ben closed the front door behind him, slipped off his jacket and hung it on the coat-stand.
‘Nat?’ he called. No reply.
He felt the stubble on his chin and made his way to the bathroom. As he reached out to open the bathroom door, he heard a noise come from the bedroom.
‘Don’t tell me you’re back…’ he said as he opened the bedroom door ‘… in bed.’
He couldn’t breathe. It felt like he had been punched in the stomach and his heart ripped from his chest, but he couldn’t stop staring.
David, who once used to work with Ben at CEM, over a year ago, looked up from Natalie’s groin and jumped to his feet. If Natalie felt any guilt, she didn’t show it.
‘I’m so sorry, Ben,’ said David.
‘You’re meant to be my mate, Dave,’ said Ben as his stomach got the better of him.
Ben vomited on his own bedroom floor. He stared at the vomit, at Natalie, at David, and then he turned and ran out of the flat, grabbing his jacket on the way and slamming the door shut behind him.
‘Shit,’ said David.
‘You’re still paying me, David,’ said Natalie, lying on the bed, wearing only a bra, ‘so get back here and finish what you started.’
‘You really are a heartless cow,’ said David, before climbing back on the bed and sucking gently on her clitoris.
11
Ben had run for more than a mile. Ran along the streets, ran blindly across roads, nearly ending his life just like his father not so long ago, ran towards the fields and finally stopped when he reached the canal.
He thought about jumping into the water. Could you force yourself to drown? Maybe he’d get lucky and get pulled down by the current, if they existed in canals, or get his legs tangled up in the reeds under the surface and couldn’t escape even if he lost his nerve.
He thought about jumping from one of the bridges along the canal, but none were very high, and with his luck recently, he would probably just end up disabled, with only his mother to look after him, who he was sure, was getting madder by the day.
He looked down at his shoes, now caked in mud, and sighed, then bent down and picked up a few pebbles that he caught his eye on the pathway. All three were smooth and flat with round edges, perfect for skimming, just like his father had taught him to do many years ago.
He threw the first stone and it sank without bouncing even once, the same with the second. He eyed the last pebble in his hand. The third throw was better, bouncing five times before disappearing below the surface, where it would rest until the end of days. He managed a brief smile before it turned into a frown.
‘I miss you, dad,’ he said.
He began a slow walk along the canal, towards the city centre. Recent events ran through his mind. He missed his father so much, and was so lost in his own depression that he hadn’t stopped to think about his mother and how she was coping.
She lived close, Mrs Green, but rarely left the house that Ben grew up in. Ben didn’t want to go there as seeing all his father’s possessions would sadden him further. But he knew, as an only child, he had a responsibility towards his mother, an only child herself.
He vowed to go and see her later that day, even though he dreaded seeing how senile she had become. She had always been strange, angry for no reason at one moment and then happy the next. Since becoming a widower, she was free-falling into that dark and lonely hole called madness.
Tears began falling again as his thoughts switched back to Natalie. He knew they didn’t have the perfect relationship, but her cheating had come as a shock. And with David as well! Why someone he knew? Why does that always hurt more?
Ben wasn’t surprised at David’s behaviour, they used to drink together after work and it was clear to everyone that he wasn’t the faithful type. This was made worse by the fact that his wife of seven years absolutely adored him. They were lovers at university and wed soon after graduating.
David was like Charlie, in that when Ben gave less of his spare time to the boy’s club, to getting drunk, to bragging about money, he’d lost all respect for him. That’s the thing with salesmen, always a shallow smile to your face, but the bottom line is the bottom line. You can never trust a salesman.
David had left CEM to start his own firm but stayed friends with Charlie thanks to their mutual love of boozy nights at strip clubs and casinos. Rumour had it that they’d even shared a prostitute once.
Ben wiped his eyes, red from crying, and blew his nose into a tissue as he entered under a bridge over the canal. He couldn’t believe how bad his day was getting when he noticed the teenage couple from earlier sat on a bench and smoking a joint. Ben kept his head down and walked past them.
Alexia noticed it was the man from earlier and nudged the stoned Ricky, who looked up and laughed.
‘Are you crying?’ he asked, shamelessly. Ignored, he tried again, ‘Oi, paedo, you been crying?
Ben was a few yards away as Ricky bent down and grabbed a stone from the ground.
‘I’m talking to you,’ he called out, and then threw the stone at Ben, which struck him hard on the back of the head.
Ben’s knees wobbled and he buckled over. He steadied himself with his hands at the side of the canal, just about preventing himself from falling in. On all fours, he gazed at his reflection in the water, and started mumbling to himself.
‘And now he’s talking to ‘imself,’ laughed Ricky. ‘You’re mad, mate. You fucking paedo.’
‘Ok,’ said Ben, to the man in the water. ‘Ok.’
