White Eyes



  White Eyes

  by

  Mark Z. Kammell

  *****

  PUBLISHED BY:

  White Eyes

  © Copyright 2017 by Mark Z. Kammell.

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  * * * * *

  Chapter 1.

  Strange pulled himself up from his bed heavily, feeling the sweat trickle from him. He panted with the effort, but was able to grin broadly at the young, skinny man in front of him, nervously clutching a blanket to his chest, eyes blinking rapidly as he took in the scene, took in his new cell mate. Fat, grinning, hair swept across his shiny scalp, sweaty hands, and all the images and fears that created.

  “Morning” said Strange amiably, and he stuck out his hand. “I’m Richard. Richard Strange.”

  The young guy looked uncertainly at him, and only seemed to clutch his blanket tighter. “Nat” he said, without looking up.

  Strange took a step towards him, just to see what would happen, but to his surprise Nat stood his ground, looked up and locked his eyes with Strange’s. Fair play to you, Strange thought and his smile broadened. Nat looked over at the beds, saw that the top bunk was already taken, and threw his blanket onto the bottom one. He let his hands drop to his sides, and Strange noticed the tattoo of a snake curling up inside his left arm, disappearing under the sleeve.

  “Fancy a drink?” he asked, as he stepped away and sat on one of the chairs, that squeaked under his weight. Nat moved over and sat on his bunk. “I don’t guess they have coffee?” he asked, hopefully.

  Strange smiled. “You haven’t been in here before, I can see.”

  Nat shrugged. “That obvious?”

  “It is, my friend. Nice tattoo”

  “Oh.” Nat grabbed his arm self-consciously. “Thanks. I…”

  “Why a snake though?” Strange paused. “No, it doesn’t matter. Now, about that drink…”

  He rummaged around in a supermarket bag on the table, and pulled out a silver hip flask. Strange unscrewed it clumsily, his big hands struggling with the small cap, then raised it to the window and the bright morning sun streaming through the bars. “Here’s to life” he drank and then offered it over to Nat, who accepted it uncertainly.

  “We’re allowed to drink in our cells?” Nat glanced over at Strange, and wiped the rim of the flask on his shirt. He shrugged and took a small drink, the colour rushing to his cheeks immediately. Strange reached over and gently took the flask back from him.

  “It depends on who you know, and what you know.” Strange smiled and answered Nat’s question for him. “Yes, I am a frequent guest here.” He looked up at the window and drank, his eyes reflective on the world. “You want to know why, I am sure. You want to know what it is I do, what it is that I did, and whether I spend my time here in an alcoholic daze, drinking the sunlit hours away until I can escape back into the sanctuary of the night. You want to know whether I’m someone who can be trusted, someone who will look after you, who will help you through this, or whether the fact that I’m fat and old means that I will try to rape you in the middle of the night.”

  He handed the flask back to Nat, who, this time, didn’t bother wiping it but put it straight to his lips and drank heavily, his eyes wide and staring at Strange.

  “Well on that score, let me put your mind at rest. I don’t much care for sex with men, or for sex at all, for that matter.”

  Nat held the flask, rocking it slowly, listening to the drink slosh from one side to another. It seemed remarkably empty, and Nat could feel the colour in his cheeks, the warmth in his chest. “So, what do you do?”

  Strange nodded. “I’m a private investigator.”

  Nat laughed an alcohol fueled laugh. “A private investigator? Really? Shouldn’t you be on the outside?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “Well” Nat yawned, and pushed himself back onto the bed, trying to get comfortable. His head was spinning a little. “I don’t really drink that much” he muttered to himself, but he carried on, spinning aside – after all, it was good. He was feeling OK. Had done OK so far, managed to stand up for himself, and seemed to have ended up with someone who, well, who could have been worse. “Well” he continued, “it’s not like we don’t have a lot of time.”

  “All in good time, my friend, all in good time.” He glanced at Nat, glanced at the flask, but didn’t try to take it. “Why don’t you tell me. A nice chap like you, what did you do wrong?”

  Nat propped himself up, and took another drink. He rubbed at red marks that circled his wrists. “Sure, why not. Actually – maybe you can help me. I mean, I bet you have friends on the outside. I really shouldn’t be here, you know, I think someone’s stitched me up, and I need help. Yeah, and on top of that, I’ve got to make a complaint about police brutality. I mean, look at this!” He held his wrists out to Strange.

  A faint smile on Strange’s face. “Let’s deal with one thing at a time. Why don’t you explain why you’ve been stitched up, as you say” He made quotation marks in the air.

  “So, you’ll help me?”

  “Do you have money?”

  “Well, not with me?” Nat asked.

  “I mean on the outside. You’re a rich man?”

  Nat turned onto his side, his eyes bright. He downed the rest of the contents of the hip flask, and let it fall to the cell floor. “Sure, I’ve got money. My parents are loaded. Money” he waved his arms, “money isn’t a problem.”

  “That’s good to know.” Strange rubbed his hands on his trousers, leaving sweat stains. “So, tell me your story, and I’ll tell you how I can help.”

  Nat sat back up, excited. He wobbled and grabbed the side rail of the bed to steady himself.

  “Well” he started, “it’s a strange story.”

  “Yes, they always are.”

  “No, but listen. So, I got a call, from an old school friend. Joshua. I mean, we weren’t really great friends, but we’d hung about a bit together. You know, in the same group of people, he was all right. Anyway, we’d lost touch, I lost touch with most people, so well, it wasn’t really a surprise, and then he’d gone off to university, I think, and, well, I’d moved away, and so, anyway. I was in this nice flat, I told you, didn’t I, my folks, they’re, I’ve mean, they’ve got loads of money, my dad, I’m not sure what he does, something in the city, and my mum, well, I’ve got no idea. They kind of don’t live with each other anymore, they kind of do, but it’s complicated, anyway, but, you know, they look after me, right. I can’t complain. Anyway, where was I?”

  “Your friend, Joshua. He had just called you.”

  “Yes, yes, that’s right, he called me, out of the blue, it must have been years since we’d seen each other. Anyway, he told me, he’d heard from a friend, or a friend of a friend, I never really worked out how, he’d heard where I was and he was up there, working, going to some meetings, closing a deal, or something, he described it, I didn’t really get it, but you know, it sounded really dull. Anyway, he said, it was great, wouldn’t it be a good idea if we met for a drink?”

  Strange nodded. “You arranged to meet for a drink.”

  “Exactly!” Nat nodded excitedly. “You’re good!” he said, with not a trace of sarcasm. “We arranged to meet for a drink. Strange thing was, he seemed to know exactly where I lived, even though, well I can’t remember telling anyone, but he said he’d pick me up, the follo
wing night, about seven.”

  “You hadn’t told anyone where you lived? No one at all?”

  Nat leaned forward. “Is that important, do you think? Is that one of those details you private investigators are good at picking up on?”

  Strange nodded solemnly. “Possibly. Carry on.”

  “The next night, there’s a ring on the intercom, and I look through the video thing, and there’s this guy down there, and I can see right away, it’s Joshua. You know, it had been a few years, so we’d both changed, and he even had a beard, but his face, yeah, definitely, saw it straight away. But he’s not alone, right. He’s with this girl, and man, even through that small screen, I could tell, I mean, she was gorgeous. I’m not talking normally gorgeous, like a girl you’d meet at a party, you know, I am talking, proper, model grade gorgeous, you know, like, I…”

  “I think I understand. Please do carry on.”

  “So I buzzed them up, and they were there in my flat, making themselves at home. And Joshua, he was all like, well, this is a nice place, Nathan, he always used to call me Nathan, they all did, at school, anyway, Terri, that was the girl, she had kind of draped herself on the sofa, you know, like she belonged there. And she was just a friend of Joshua’s, nothing serious, they weren’t together or anything, I mean, he told me straight away, he was, you know, hoped I didn’t mind she came along, but anyway. You’re following me?”

  “I think I am managing to keep up. What happened next?”

  “Well, this is where it gets strange. Terri, she starts asking for a drink. Well I’ve got a few beers in the fridge, that’s all, but she was like, no, no, I want champagne. Well, fine, I’m saying, whatever, most bars sell champagne these days so she can have what she wants, so long as I don’t have to buy it, and I remember, I said that as a joke, but they didn’t seem to get it, and Terri, I remember her saying, but I want to lie on your soft white leather sofas and drink champagne watching the lights play on your cream walls and listening to jazz by Miles Davis…”

  “Interesting. And what was your reaction?”

  “You have anything else to drink?”

  Strange smiled and picked the hip flask up from the floor. He pulled out a half full clear bottle from his bag, and poured the unnamed contents carefully into the flask. Nat took it and took a greedy mouthful.

  “Well, you know, I guess I thought, this is the prerogative of the young, beautiful woman, and so I said yeah, whatever, and I said I’d go and get some. There was an off license just around the corner, so I went round there, and bought a bottle…”

  “An expensive bottle?”

  “Yeah. Like, Veuve Cliquout. How did you know?”

  “Just a hunch.”

  “And I went back to the flat. And, well…”

  “They’d robbed your flat and disappeared?”

  “No.” Nat looked down, puzzled. “No, well, not exactly.” He took another drink. “I mean, they had disappeared. But they hadn’t robbed the place. Well, I don’t think so, at least. But…”

  The rush of his previous talking had slowed down to a trickle and a quiet stillness had taken over the cell. “On the coffee table, right in the middle, they’d left a chopping board. And, well, on the chopping board, there was…” he gulped.

  “What was on the chopping board, Nat?”

  Nat looked uncertainly at Strange. He shut his eyes and whispered. “There was the little finger of a woman.”

  Strange nodded, as if this was the sort of thing that happened all the time, that he was used to. And perhaps it was. “It was her finger?” he asked.

  Nat looked up at Strange but didn’t answer. How was I to know if it was her finger, he probably thought. Maybe he had meant it as a statement, he probably thought.

  “There was anything else apart from that?”

  Nat shook his head.

  “What did you do?”

  “I opened the bottle of champagne and drank it. All at once. Then I found some whisky and drank that. Then I passed out.”

  “You avoided the issue. Congratulations.” Strange’s voice remained calm and steady, his eyes sparkled.

  “No! I was just freaked, that’s all. Shocked. I mean, what the hell was going on. You know, the finger there, I didn’t realise what it would look like, in, like, a pool of blood. You know, it was… freaky.”

  “And you woke up, a few hours later and…”

  Nat nodded. “Yeah, I woke up a few hours later, I think it was morning, and…”

  “Your head was throbbing”

  “Well, yeah of course, my head was throbbing, but…”

  “You realized you’d been stupid for not dealing with the situation”

  Nat sat up. “Will you let me tell this fucking story or what?”

  Strange chuckled. “Sorry. I do that sometimes. I have this ability to know what people are going to say.”

  “Yeah. Well maybe not all the time.” There was an edge to Nat’s voice. “Yeah, I was a bit out of it and a bit dizzy, and the first thing I wanted to do was throw up. But you know, I was stood there in my bathroom, vomit on my face and on my shirt, and I was thinking about that finger, and you know, I was thinking, Jeez, did I do that? I actually looked at my hands, to see if there were any fingers missing…”

  “And then you realized it was a woman’s finger on the chopping board.”

  “Well, yeah, exactly. That’s exactly what I realized. And then I thought, well there was this woman here, I thought, shit, did I get drunk and chop her finger off…”

  “You do that a lot?”

  “What?”

  “Chop women’s’ fingers off? You make a habit of it?”

  “What? No. No, of course I don’t. But…” and Nat stared down. He shook the flask, listening to the liquid rolling inside, and put it thoughtfully to his lips.

  “But what, Nat?” Strange leaned forwards, looking at him intently, as if this was the moment, as if this was what he had been waiting for.

  “But, well…” he paused, unsure whether to carry on. He looked at the flask, then at Strange, then back at the flask.

  “It’s important you tell me everything, Nat. If I’m able to help you, it’s really critical.”

  “Well, it’s just that… I don’t really like telling people this. But… well, I have had blackouts in the past…”

  “Hmmm.” Strange nodded thoughtfully. “Blackouts where you’ve assaulted people?”

  Nat looked at him with bloodshot eyes and shrugged. He let the flask fall to his lap. “I don’t think so” he said quietly.

  “You must suspect though. You must have a feeling that it may be possible, that it may have happened. You’ve woken up, drenched in sweat, hands shaking. The curtains are pulled back, you didn’t close them. Rain is beating on the window. When you try to get up you realise that you’re fully clothed, you didn’t even get changed. You try and remember why, what happened, what you were doing, who you were with, and you realise that it’s just a blur, lots of blanks, where memories should have been. Just a kind of fuzzy grey, not even blackness. You go into the bathroom and splash water on your face, but you can’t get rid of the feeling that behind that blackness, there’s something there. Something disturbing, lurking, hiding, just beyond reach. It doesn’t let you relax, doesn’t allow your hands to stop shaking. You go into the living room, and switch the TV, or the radio, on, and there’s a report about a murder, or an assault, that happened late last night, something cruel, something sadistic and you freeze. It’s local, it’s only a couple of miles away. Coincidence? Of course, it’s coincidence, you tell yourself. But you can’t be sure. So, you leave your flat, and you walk down, in the freezing rain, to the place where it happened. And you look beyond the police tape at the scene, at the shop front, and you try and imagine yourself there. And you can’t be sure. You just can’t be sure. There’s a policeman standing there, on duty, and he’s looking at you, and you hurry away, only too aware that there’s a truth in that old saying about returning t
o the scene of the crime.

  “And now, this. And you’re asking yourself, have I done it again?”

  There was a thin smile on Strange’s lips, and had he not had a gentle manner about him, you might have mistaken it for cruel.

  “Don’t say again. Please don’t say again.”

  “Mmmm. But the way you tell your story, you couldn’t have done it.”

  Nat looked up, his eyes glistening.

  “I couldn’t?”

  “Clearly not. You say that your friend, Joshua, and his girlfriend, arrived at your flat, and then you went to get the alcohol, and then you only started drinking after you had seen her finger. And therefore, an alcohol induced blackout during which time you carried out this assault wouldn’t be possible.”

  Nat sighed. “But I lose track of time, especially when I’m drunk. I just worry that, well, the way I told it, maybe that’s what happened, but maybe I had been drinking before, and, well you know. Maybe they came round and I was already. I don’t know.”

  “But where would they have gone then?” He reached out and put his hand gently on Nat’s arm, “Had you chopped off the lady’s finger, do you think she and Joshua would have just left. They’d have been screaming, would have had the police at your doorstep, would have had you arrested…” He paused and smiled. “Unless, of course, that is what happened.” He looked up at the window. “Of course. That’s what happened isn’t it. You came back into the flat, and they were there, with the police…”

  “No.” Nat shook his head. “That’s not what happened. I woke up, like I told you, on the sofa. And the finger was still there. I spent ages looking at it. And things were just playing round my head. What if I had, I mean, what if the finger was just part of it and I…”

  “Ohhhh. You mean….?”

  “Yeah. I started panicking that I would start finding bits of her all over my flat. I mean, really panicking. I mean, it just went through my head, it was like, I couldn’t get rid of it. I was thinking, Jesus, what if her head’s in the fridge. What if I open the cupboard and there’s a leg? What if I look under my bed and…”?

  “What did you do?”

  “I stood next to the fridge for ages. It must have been hours. I couldn’t bring myself to open it.”

  “But you did, right?”

  Nat nodded. “Eventually. I had to shut my eyes. I was there, with the fridge door hanging open, feeling the cool air on my face, but I couldn’t open my eyes. I swore I could smell the blood, I could feel those dead eyes looking at me.”

  Strange looked at the flask resting on Nat’s lap. He reached over and took it, put it to his lips. He could hear his breathing, the soft thump of his heart against his chest. “What did you do with the head?” he whispered.

  “But it wasn’t there! The fridge was empty!”

  Strange closed his eyes and breathed out. “What did you do?”

  “I don’t know. I just went mad, I started running around the whole flat, tearing it apart, looking for bits of her. I was so convinced she was there. I mean, it was like something had flipped in my head, I couldn’t control myself, I went mad. I started ripping doors off, pulling out shelves, I even started throwing tables about, ripping up the carpet, pulling up floorboards, I mean, I was looking everywhere.”

  “And?”

  “Nothing. There was nothing. Except my flat was a war zone. And I cut my clothes to shreds doing it, cut myself too, I ended up looking like I’d been in a fight. I had to stop, eventually. I was just exhausted. And I ended up sitting there, in my living room, staring at the severed finger. And it was like the switch went back off again.”

  “You must have been relieved, at least”

  Nat scrunched up his face. “Why? All I’d proved was that I hadn’t hidden her body in my flat. And all I had to show for it was a ripped up flat. And kiss goodbye to my deposit.”

  “Ah. The perils of renting. You should own your own property.”

  “I wish I could” Nat snorted. “You do, I guess?”

  “Well, yes. I own several, in fact.”

  Nat reached for the flask, realized it was gone. “So why are you here?”

  “What happened next?”

  “Yeah” Nat sighed, “what the hell happened next.”

  Strange took a drink. “Sounds interesting”

  Nat looked down. “So, I’m on the floor. I’m exhausted. I’m in bits, literally. And, I mean, it’s just like a bad… you know, just like some crap horror film. There’s a ring on the doorbell. And I freeze, and I’m thinking, shit, it’s the police, it’s got to be the police. They’ve traced the body, they’ve done their police research and CSI and everything like that and…”

  “SOCO. In England, it’s SOCO. CSI is in America only. And they’re nowhere nearly as good as they think they are. Everyone thinks they can become an investigator these days, because of CSI. They think it’s easy. Just pull a few strands of hair and…”

  “Exactly!” shouted Nat. He hands fumbled for the flask, and then stopped, restlessly, on his lap. “Exactly. They’d have got traces of her hair, probably from where I dumped the body and then they’d have…”

  Strange reached forward and put his hand on Nat’s knee. Nat stopped mid-sentence, half out of breath and stared at him. “Where did you dump the body?”

  Nat shook his head. “I don’t know! I mean, I didn’t! I mean, I think I didn’t…” he trailed off.

  Strange regarded him for seconds, then nodded slowly. “All right. But I’ll give you this advice for free. Don’t ever say you dumped the body, if you’re not sure. They’ll have you in here in no time.”

  “Well I screwed that one up then, didn’t I” Nat whispered, his breath touching Strange’s face and Strange breathed in the air, savouring the scent of cheap, distilled alcohol. He sat back and smiled. “A sense of humour. I like that. Please do carry on. There was a ring at the door. You weren’t sure, but you tentatively asked, ‘Who’s there?’”

  “Well, no, I don’t know, I just froze, you know. I just didn’t know what to do. I was, like, staring at the door, frozen, I don’t know what I was thinking, I thought maybe they’ll go away, maybe if I just sit completely still they’ll think there’s no one here and they’ll just leave.”

  “Even though they’d traced the body to your flat?”

  “Yeah. I know. I wasn’t thinking straight. But anyway, it’s, well, I even held my breath. And…”

  “And the doorbell rang again…”

  Nat sighed. “Yeah. The doorbell rang again. Only this time, there was a knocking as well, someone knocking on the door, hard.” Nat gulped.

  “And you sat even stiller, and you closed your eyes. And you prayed to everyone you’ve ever believed in that they’d give up.”

  “Yeah. That’s exactly what I did. I mean, yeah. And then…”

  “They rang again”

  “Well, yeah. Well, not exactly. There was a rapping on the door and then there was a voice. And it was like, Nathan Jones, can you please open the door. It’s the police.” Nat had gone white.

  “Ah, I understand. So, that’s why you’re here. They did trace you…”

  “No! I mean, shit, I was freaked. You know, it was like in the back of my mind, I’d been thinking, no of course it’s not, it’s not going to be the police, it’s going to be, I don’t know, someone come to borrow a cup of sugar, or maybe even Joshua and his, whatever, her, come to apologise, and you know, for a second, I even, you know, I even looked at the finger, I thought, Jesus, what if it’s not real, what if they’ve been taking the… But then…I remember…”

  “What do you remember, Nat? You need to tell me this exactly. It may be critical to your case.”

  Give me another drink first.” Strange nodded, and with a deft flick belying his shape threw over the bottle.

  Nat caught it, wobbled, fell back into his bunk and pulled himself up, leaning uncomfortably against the wall. He pulled off the lid, his left hand shaking a bit, and took a lon
g drink. “This is what I remember” he whispered…

  Nat sprang up and instinctively backed himself against the wall, staring at the door like it was the enemy, waiting for it to make the next move. And there it was. Another rapping. The same voice. “Nathan! Please open the door! We heard you in there!”

  Sweat trickled off his face as he stepped forward, thought better of it, and stepped back again. He strained to hear, but he was sure that there were low voices on the other side of the door. Maybe talking about whether to give up. Maybe saying perhaps, we were mistaken, let’s try it another time. Seconds ticked away, sweat dripped onto the floor, the low noise seemed to stop. Nat closed his eyes and sighed, his body felt like crumpling. He allowed himself to slowly sink to the floor, in relief and exhaustion.

  BANG! BANG! BANG! “Nathan! Open up! You’re beginning to piss us off! We just want a chat!”

  It was like a hand to Nat’s throat, suddenly like he couldn’t breathe and his heart started crashing against his chest, the door, the enemy, there again, laughing at him. He pulled himself up, his whole body shaking, and took trembling steps towards the door. His hands shook almost uncontrollably as he pulled the chain across the door before opening it and allowing the gap to open.

  Two men stood outside, both in black suits, both thin, tall and with dark hair. The one on the left broke into a grin. “Ah! The man is home. Good to see you. Would you let us in, please?”

  Nat stared at them. The man who had spoken peered at him. He smiled again. “Nathan Jones? Anyone home? Hello?”

  With a huge force of will, Nat pulled himself back to the moment and forced a smile onto his face. “Err… hello” he said unsteadily.

  The man coughed. “Can we come in please?”

  “Yes… erm, no, erm…what’s this about?” He glanced between the men, the one on the left, smiley, friendly, the one on the right, impassive, eyes looking straight through him, or maybe into him.

  “Well, Nathan, it would be easier to explain if we were all sitting down having a chat, isn’t that right, Justin?”

  Christ, how could he let them into the flat with it looking like that. Thank God he’d hidden the finger. Thank…. oh, no, that wasn’t right, he hadn’t hidden the finger, it was there, on the chopping board, in the middle of the floor. Oh hell. Oh, Jesus Christ. Oh…

  “Nathan? Can we come in? It’ll only take a few minutes?” The guy was still friendly.

  “Erm, yeah, ok, just give me a minute, it’s a bit untidy…” Nat ran his hands through his hair.

  “Oh, hey, we don’t mind, do we, Justin? Untidiness? No, no problem! We won’t judge, will we? Just so long as there are no dead bodies or severed limbs lying around, right!” He winked at Nathan.

  Justin spoke for the first time, in a monotone. “That’s right, Phil. We don’t like dead bodies.”

  “No, erm, no, of course not” Nat stammered. His heart had climbed out of his chest and was in his mouth, making it difficult to speak. “But let me just…”

  Phil sighed theatrically. “Oh, all right, if you must, but be quick now.”

  Nat shoved the door shut, rushed back and scooped up the finger and put it in his pocket. He looked at the chopping board, DNA, he thought, DNA, help, and he shoved it under the remains of the sofa. He looked round at the mess. What could he do. He shut his eyes, counted to five, put his hand in his mouth and pushed his heart back to its rightful position, and let them in.

  “Why thank you, Nathan. Oh…” Phil looked around at the room and turned to Justin. “Well, this wasn’t what I was expecting, Justin.”

  Justin nodded slowly. “No, neither was I.”

  “I mean, there’s mess, and you know, there’s thermo-nuclear war!” Phil’s eyes sparkled.

  “It looks like there’s been some sort of fight here” Justin continued in his expressionless way.

  “Err…no, you know, no, I just leave things a bit untidy…you know, well, I had a party the other night and…” the words just fell out of Nat’s mouth, he couldn’t stop.

  “Some party!” Phil laughed.

  “I don’t remember being invited” Justin added.

  Phil turned to Justin, and put his hand on his shoulder. “Well, of course we weren’t invited! We haven’t even introduced ourselves!” He turned to Nat. “I’m so sorry, Nathan. May I call you Nathan? I’m so sorry, where are our manners? I am Detective Inspector Phil Maker, and this is my partner, Justin Dredd.”

  “Pleased to meet you” Justin added.

  “Oh, erm, you too.” Nat’s hand went into his pocket and wrapped itself round the cold, dead meat of the finger. “Erm, can I help you?”

  “Of course you can. Do you mind if we sit down?”

  “Err, yeah, sure” and then Nat glanced around the room. “I’m sorry the chairs are a bit of a…. mess, Phil.”

  “Yes. I think you should call me Detective Maker.” Phil perched on the edge of the sofa, avoiding the stuffing. “Come and sit down, Justin. If you sit in the right place it’s actually quite comfortable.” He turned to Nat. “Sit down, relax, we’re not here to arrest you.” He gave Nat a broad smile.

  “That is, unless you have broken the law” added Justin, sitting down next to Phil.

  “Yes!” Phil laughed. “Unless you’ve broken the law, of course. In which case, we’d have to arrest you.”

  “Have you broken the law?” asked Justin.

  “Erm, what?”

  “It’s a simple question” Justin talked solemnly. “Have you broken the law?” He studied Nat, and pulled out a notebook and a pen, started writing. “Suspect refused to answer questions” he murmured as he wrote.

  “Suspect?” Nat could feel the sweat go cold on his face.

  Phil laughed. “No, of course, you’re not a suspect. At least, not yet.” He turned to Justin. “Wow, I feel thirsty. Do you feel thirsty, Justin?”

  Justin flicked his eyes over Nat. “I’m always thirsty. I wonder if he’s hiding something in the kitchen, that’s why he’s refusing to make us a drink.”

  Nat thought of the kitchen, he didn’t think he had make too much of a mess in there. The microwave, ripped off the wall to check there was nothing behind it. The fridge… but of course there was nothing in the fridge, he had checked. But what if he’d missed? What if the head had been in the bottom part of the fridge and he hadn’t checked…? No of course, don’t be stupid Nat, you wouldn’t have missed a head in the fridge. Come on! But then, what if…

  “Yes please”

  “What?” asked Nat.

  “I said, yes please, we will have a drink” Phil Maker, with his broad smile again.

  “Oh, yes. Yes, of course.” Nat hurriedly got to his feet and walked to the kitchen door. “What would you like, tea or c…” he turned and saw Maker right behind him, following him. Jesus.

  “I’ll just give you a hand” he smiled and they entered the kitchen.

  Phil whistled. “Not bad.” It was worse than he thought. The kettle lay on the floor, with a big dent in it. He remembered now, smashing it against the wall.

  “Erm… I think I may struggle to make you a coffee…”

  “Well that’s fine. I don’t like coffee. I’ll have a cold beer, please, and I’m guessing that Detective Dredd will have a gin and tonic. Won’t you Justin” he called over his shoulder.

  “Erm…” Nat stuttered, “are you supposed to drink on duty?”

  Phil turned around and stared at Nat, nonplussed. “Well, yeah, of course. How else do you think I could get through the day? Now, let’s see what beers you have. Young man like you, must have a lot of decent beers.” He reached for the fridge door, and without thinking Nat put his arm out to stop him.

  “Something in the fridge you don’t want me to see?”

  “No, well, it’s just that it’s a bit, messy?” Nat tried.

  “Hiding severed limbs in the fridge?” asked Dredd, appearing out of nowhere. He started scribbling down again “Suspect may have tried to conceal pa
rts of body in the fridge….”

  “What? No… I mean, look, why are you guys here?” Nat asked.

  “I thought you’d never ask!” smiled Phil. “Always suspicious if a person doesn’t seem surprised about two police officers…”

  “Senior police officers” added Dredd.

  “Sorry, yes, senior police officers, suddenly showing up and asking lots of questions.”

  “Tends to indicate a guilty conscience” nodded Dredd.

  “Now, how about that beer” and Maker flung the fridge door open before Nat could stop him. They all peered inside.

  “Smells a little like decaying human flesh” Dredd said, thoughtfully, and wrote something else down.

  “You don’t have any beer” Phil looked accusatorily at Nat.

  “Yeah… sorry, I must have run out.”

  “Probably plied the victim with beer before beating her senseless” Dredd was addressing Maker. “I think we probably have enough to arrest him.”

  “What?” Nat almost shouted. “Arrest me for what?”

  “Now, now, don’t get all stressy” said Phil. “Fact is, we’re just carrying out some enquiries. To see if you can help us with something.”

  “Me?”

  “No, the person next door” growled Dredd.

  “Come on Justin, don’t stress Nathan here out any more than he is already” laughed Maker. He touched Nat gently on the arm. “He’s a decent guy, don’t mind his sense of humour. Come on, what say we each fix ourselves a gin and tonic, seeing as you don’t have any beer, and let’s chat about this sensibly.”

  “I don’t have any gin…” Nat started.

  “You say?” Dredd swiveled round suddenly, a bottle of Gordons in his hand. “What do you call this then?”

  “I see” Maker talked slowly. “Lying to the police. That’s a very serious offence.”

  “No!” Nat shouted. “I mean, I didn’t lie, I mean, I just must not have realized that I had it. I mean, why would I lie over that…” Nat found himself spitting the words out, his head spinning in confusion.

  “Oh. So what would you lie over, Nat? May I call you Nat? What would you lie over? Maybe we should start there…” Maker reached over and picked up a glass that Dredd had prepared for him, and walked back through to the living room.

  Dredd took his own glass and walked up to Nat, so close they almost touched. “You look very stressed. People always have a reason to be stressed. It’s because they have something to be stressed about. Normally because they’re hiding something. What are you hiding?” and he followed his partner through.

  Nat, uncertainly, went into the living room and perched on the edge of the ruined coffee table. Dredd and Maker were sat opposite, both on the sofa, both with their drinks. Maker was smiling again, sipping his.

  “Ah, you know, I find it hard to think what beats a good gin and tonic, don’t you agree, Justin?”

  “It’s a decent enough drink.” Dredd studied his glass. “In general I prefer a single Highland malt, but I wouldn’t risk trying the sort of whisky you may find in this place.”

  “Don’t mind him” smiled Maker. “How are you feeling, Nat?”

  “Erm… a little tired, maybe. You know, I have to clear the flat up and…”

  “The flat” Dredd’s voice was toneless. “Yes, the flat.” He glanced at his notebook and then at Maker. “So far, we have ascertained that the suspect tore up his own flat, possibly in a violent rage that caused injury or possible death to an unspecified victim. We have also noted that the suspect refused to answer police questions, and, when pushed, chose to lie. I also noted the smell of decaying human flesh in the fridge, possibly pointing to a cannibalistic ritual slaying, which may be consistent with the violence and destruction noted earlier.” He sighed. “This may be quite serious, Philip. Much more serious that we thought at first.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. “Look, we better cuff him, then let’s get the team in to rip this place apart and get any evidence.”

  Dredd got up, moving towards Nat, but Maker put his hand on his arm and stopped him. “Look Justin. I admit your theory is plausible, but maybe we should hear Nat’s side of the story first. Why don’t we do that, eh?”

  “Seriously? You seriously think this guy may actually be innocent?” but he sat down in any case.

  “Well, all I’m saying is let’s not jump to conclusions. We don’t actually have any proof…” He looked at Nat. “Unless you want to make a confession?” he asked, hopefully. “That would really make our lives a lot easier.”

  “I don’t even know why you’re here.” Nat looked between them, unsure of how to react, unsure what was going on. His mind was racing, had been running around ever since they came in, what did they know? Had they found the body, had they traced it back here, were they just trying to trick him? I mean, Jesus, what was that guy saying, cannibalistic ritual… Had they found parts of her, I mean, seriously, eaten? God, could he have done that. Oh, no, please don’t say…

  “I’m not a cannibal!” he blurted out. Maker and Dredd both looked up. Maker laughed. “Well that’s good, really, because we don’t like cannibals, do we, Justin?”

  “Can’t say I know too many myself” Dredd muttered. He stared at Nat. “Answer me this. If you’re not a cannibal, why were you storing decaying human flesh in your fridge?”

  Maker nodded. “Good question, Justin. And, Nathan, why do you feel the need to say you aren’t a cannibal. It’s not like we have been accusing you of it…”

  “You were!” shouted Nat. “He was!” he pointed at Dredd.

  Dredd glanced casually at Nat. “If you say so. I take it you have witnesses?”

  Nat slumped in his chair, he could feel everything draining out of him, all the nervous energy. As if on cue, rain started pelting the window, viciously, as if trying to get in. Maker, smiling, affable, looked over and nodded. Dredd scowled. Nat put his hands up. “I didn’t do anything” he said weakly.

  Dredd started to say something but Maker touched his arm. “All right. Let’s put that to one side for a minute….”.

  “Just for a minute” murmured Dredd. “I can recognise evil when I see it.”

  “Justin”

  “All right”

  Maker turned back to Nat. “Now, perhaps you can help us. Do you recognise this person?” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a photo, holding it up for Nat to see.

  Nat could feel himself going pale. “Erm, no?” he mumbled. Of course, it was a picture of Terri. Smiling and full of life.

  “He knows her” Dredd inspected his fingernails, didn’t even look up.

  “Do you?” asked Maker, still smiling.

  “No!”

  “You’re sure?”

  Nat took a deep breath. “Why do you want to know?” His heart was trying to break out of his mouth again. Perhaps he should start taking drugs. Well, at least if he went to prison there were a lot of drugs around.

  Maker sighed. “Well, she was reported missing this morning. And…”

  “By her boyfriend?” Nat asked. Shit, he thought. Why did I say that?

  Dredd glanced up.

  “No, by her mum, actually” Maker said. “Why do you ask?”

  “Oh, erm, well, I don’t know. Just assumed that…”

  “Did you kill her boyfriend too?” asked Dredd. “A fit of jealous rage?” He had taken a knife out of his pocket and seemed to be cutting his nails with it.

  “Now, Justin” said Maker. He winked at Nat. “Don’t worry. This is just a routine enquiry. It seems she was seen entering this building yesterday. There was noise, a … commotion… reported somewhere in the building as well. We’re asking everyone if they saw or heard anything.”

  “Everyone?” asked Nat.

  “Well, everyone in this building, of course.”

  “Especially people who could be suspects” Dredd added.

  “Justin!” Maker’s voice was sharp.

  “Okay
, okay” Dredd was pushing the tip of the knife into the palm of his hand.

  “That’s it?” asked Nat. “All that and you just want to know if I heard anything?”

  “We have to do our job properly, Mr. Jones. I’m sorry if it offends you.”

  “Oh, no, sorry, I didn’t mean to imply, I mean, I wasn’t trying to…”

  But Maker had stiffened, his smile had gone. “Can you please answer the question, Mr. Jones. Did you hear anything unusual last night, around seven pm, that you may have considered suspicious?”

  Last night, seven pm, well only this woman turning up at my flat and then leaving suddenly, without a finger. That’s still in my pocket. His right hand curled nervously around it. “No, nothing at all. I don’t think…”

  Maker raised his eyebrows. “You don’t think. You’re not sure?”

  “He’s hiding something” muttered Dredd. A trickle of blood seeped from his hand, droplets falling to the carpet.

  “What were you doing last night?”

  Nat gulped. “Erm… nothing much… watching TV?”

  They both glanced at the television, toppled over, its screen cracked.

  “You lent over it?” Maker asked. “Anything interesting on?”

  “Well, it was quite hard to see…” this wasn’t going well. Why did he even have a TV? He never watched it. He would have no idea what to say if Maker asked him what he was watching.

  “But what were you trying to watch?”

  Brilliant. “Erm… a film, I think. I got bored…”

  “Yeah” nodded Maker. He seemed to have relaxed again. “Films are boring. But do you remember exactly what…”

  “Thought you were having a party last night?” Dredd interrupted. He had given up on his palm and was tracing the knife up and down his left cheek.

  “Yes, but… I mean, no! The party was, erm, a couple of nights ago. At the weekend…”

  Maker started tapping a tune on his chair, Dredd continued playing with his knife. The silence stretched.

  “I hope she’s OK” Nat blurted out. He had to say something.

  “What makes you think she isn’t?” Dredd’s head snapped up.

  “Err… nothing. Well, otherwise you wouldn’t be looking for her, I guess…?”

  Maker nodded. “The man has a point.” He got up suddenly. “Come on, Justin.” Seriously? They were actually leaving?

  Dredd stood up slowly. “Thanks for your hospitality” He let his glass drop to the floor and they all watched it topple to its side and roll under the sofa.

  Maker put out his hand. “Well, thanks for your time.”