himself in and call the cops. You need a nice approachable female face to put him at his ease, make sure the place is wide open for you.
She had a point. Well
And anyway, I read the wee bugger s file. He deserves whatever he s got coming.
A smile pulled at my cheeks. OK, you re in.
Rhona grinned back at me. You ready?
She rang the doorbell again, leaning on it for a good five or six seconds long enough to be really annoying. Then turned and gave me the thumbs up.
I ducked back down behind the silver Mercedes parked outside the house kidding on I was tying my shoelace, in case any nosey neighbour was looking.
Clunk.
Rhona put on her official police officer voice: Mr Baxter?
A man s voice, slightly bunged up and jowly. Look, is this important, because
Mr Ethan Baxter? Oldcastle Police, can I come in, please?
I haven t got time for Hey, stop pushing! You can t
Clunk.
I popped my head over the bonnet. The front door was closed, no sign of a struggle. Say what you like about Rhona, she did a good forced entry. I pulled on my own leather gloves, then strolled around the car, up the stairs and in through the front door. Closed it behind me, shutting out the groaning wind.
The hall was full of polished wood and things in frames.
Muffled struggling noises came from the other side of a half-glazed door at the end of the hall. It opened on a huge kitchen the kind with a range cooker, prints of farmyard animals, and a wall packed with cookery books.
Ethan was sitting in a wooden dining chair, gagged with a tea towel, his hands cuffed behind his back. Soon as I walked in his eyes went huge above that squint nose of his. Mmmmmmmmph. Mmmmmmphngn mmmphn!
He d let himself go: chubby cheeks flushed and shiny, a pot belly hanging over the waistband of his suit trousers. His hairline was quite a bit higher too, but for some reason he d decided that the best way to compensate was to grow it long. Not a good look on an overweight, middle-aged man.
Rhona stood with her back against the range, smiling. Nice house, eh, Guv? These architect bastards must be raking it in.
I settled into the seat on the other side of the table. Flexed my black-leather fingers. Stared.
He blinked a couple of times, then looked away.
Silence: I let it thicken.
Mmphhmnnngh
You ve been a naughty boy again, haven t you, Ethan?
He kept his eyes on the kitchen floor.
You were in Tesco on Wednesday night, the big one in Logansferry: clothes department, remember?
A pause then he nodded.
I leaned forwards. Up close he smelled of aftershave and old garlic. Michelle was there too.
His eyes widened. Mmmmmph! Mmmmnnghph!
She says you were watching her. Says she was in the changing rooms with Katie and when they came out, there was good old Ethan Baxter: lurking.
Mmmphnnghmm
Rhona whistled. They hand out restraining orders for a reason, Baxter. Did you really think you could sneak up on a woman you beat the shit out of for six months, and she s not gonna recognize you? You re even thicker than you look.
Mmmgn mnnnph!
I gave him a big theatrical sigh. Ethan, Ethan, Ethan Rhona s right: you re not a very quick learner, are you? Thought you d actually got it last time, but obviously I was wrong. You need a refresher.
He clamped his eyes shut, head bowed, shoulders shivering.
She leant over and spoke straight into his ear. Nah: I know what he needs, he needs taking out and
Rhona, do me a favour and go keep an eye on the road. Don t want someone popping past unannounced, disturbing Ethan from his lesson.
You sure I shouldn t
Now, Rhona.
She pursed her lips for a moment, then nodded and wandered out, hands in her pockets, whistling a jaunty tune.
I stood, closed the kitchen door, then went around all the units, opening the drawers and rummaging about inside. Tea towels. Coasters and mats. Assorted bits and bobs. Nice place you ve got here, Ethan. Very swish. Cutlery I pulled out a steak knife and a fork. Next drawer: cooking implements. Helped myself to a heavy wooden rolling pin. There was a little blowtorch in the last drawer, perfect for making cr me br l e.
Ever heard of DIY Dave? Killed about eight people so far. Tortures them. I arranged everything on the table in front of Ethan. We call him DIY because he never brings anything to the scene, just uses whatever his victims have lying about the house.
I picked up the steak knife and stabbed it into the table top; when I let go it stayed upright, quivering.
Mmmmmmphmmmph!
Yeah, thought you d say that. I took out my own set of handcuffs: shiny stainless-steel hoops with a rigid plastic handhold in the middle. I fastened Ethan s right arm to the chair, then unlocked Rhona s cuffs on one side, so they dangled from his left wrist.
I grabbed the rigid plastic bar and hauled his arm up onto the table.
Mmmmmph nnnph! His fingers spidered on the wooden surface, as if his hand was trying to get away. Which wasn t a bad idea.
The rolling pin was nice and weighty. I tapped it against his wrist. You re a southpaw, that right, Ethan? A lefty?
Mmmnngh His eyes darted from the rolling pin to me then back again. Little drops of sweat beaded his forehead, making it shine. The smell of old garlic got stronger.
So, when you re fantasizing about how you used to beat up my wife, this is the hand you wank with. I raised the rolling pin. What did I tell you last time?
He stared up at me, eyes glistening with tears. Mmmn gnndnnn nnnnngh mnnngnnng!
I slammed the pin down on the back of his hand. The jolt radiated all the way up my arm to my shoulder. The bang echoed around the kitchen.
A small pause.
Then Ethan screamed behind the gag, jerking back and forwards in the chair unable to go anywhere.
Didn t blame him: must have broken a few bones.
You promised last time, didn t you? You promised me you d never go anywhere near Michelle and Katie again. Another go with the rolling pin.
Another scream.
Curl your fingers up. Now.
Mmmmmph! Mmmmmph!
CURL YOUR FUCKING FINGERS!
His hand trembled, the fingers fluttering and twitching, then he dragged them into a loose fist.
Bastards like you are all the same: you think women are gagging for it, don t you? Think you can do whatever you like and it s OK, because you re so big and special. Think they ll love you for it. Right?
I smashed the rolling pin down on his raised knuckles, hard enough to knock the fork and blowtorch off the table.
MMMMMMMMMMPHNNNN! Tears streamed down his face. The scuffing sound of feet scrabbling on the tiled floor.
MMMMMMMMMMPHNNNN!
You know what, Ethan? Looks to me like you re gagging for it. One more go, putting my weight behind
