Sixth Victim Page 6

  At night, it always seems a long way to go home. Alandra a sleepy old town full of cracks and creaks, but soon she would be home. Until then, she mustn’t mind her active imagination

  To leave Cecelia had to make a promise. Against her better judgment, she promised to drop in and see Mary Ann again. Oh, the bitterness of being obliged and it was all because she needed to make money. If only she was rich. She would have been rich if she had married Peter.

  Just this morning a postcard lay waiting in her box with her address and nothing more. The view was of the canal Keitzersgracht off the Amstel river with colorful tall Dutch hatted houses fronting the waterway, tipping their heads to catch their reflections. She held the card up with amusement. Cheerfully painted and grand enough for a master painter to depict. It could only be from Peter; she didn’t know who else would send her a card like this?

  The loose tokens of last night’s conversation were replayed. Provoking thoughts that if she was her own mistress… why was she teased to pieces by her overdeveloped conscience? For when you are made to do something you don’t want to do, you resent the people who make you do it. Although again, she had enjoyed the evening, yet she resented Mary Ann for pushing her into it against her will. Yet, contrarily, it’s not that she disliked Mary Ann, she could be great company, and very flattering—how kind, clever, and even pretty Cecelia was. Pretty, emphasized Mary Ann noticing her reluctance to accept a compliment.

  ‘Come and have a look in the mirror.’

  Grabbing hold of Cecelia’s hand, Mary Ann shared the reflection.

  ‘Pretty eyes Cecelia. And a nose like that, others would die for. And lips, a perfect angel’s bow.’

  Flattering as well as embarrassing. But then Cecelia should have her hair dressed like this in another style.

  ‘And your dress, it’s not quite you is it?’ the face was frowning and then suddenly shocked. Away flew Mary Ann’s hands. ‘I’m sorry,’ said Mary Ann suddenly and dramatically. ‘I’m being impertinent. I had no right to tell you how you should look. You are who you are, and you are special, very special to me. I don’t want to lose a good friend like you.’

  It was creepy the way that Mary Ann could be possessive. Cecelia knew that if she didn’t put her foot down, she would be driven along by this strong woman’s wiles.

  Now walking along with the shadows as companions, strange monsters stretched their legs to creep out winking eyes, listening ears, and snatching hands. Cecelia stepped up her pace. Fears which lived and festered in her imagination. No one was out there to snatch and pull her under. But if there was, she was very vulnerable. At nighttime, the whispering voice mentioned that people go missing, especially when there is no one waiting for their return.

  If only she had brought a knife to stab this man in the chest, but that could be dangerous as well. There is no one there, her mind repeated, it was her own breathing she could hear. No one is there, so calm down. What was Peter doing in Amsterdam?

  Martial arts, that was how Mary Ann saved herself. Kickboxing was a good defense, and this was an idea; she would be much more confident when walking abroad. Walking along in the night and hearing each one of her footsteps hitting the sidewalk, kickboxing was a good idea.

  A cab circuiting in the night. Putting her hand out, Cecelia hailed it down. Never again would she put herself in this frightening and vulnerable situation. Wait until the Slasher is caught before she should venture out at night again. Mary Ann was at home; she was all right.

  Checking around her home, one of the bedroom windows was left undone. The house felt cold from fear. Yet, there was no one here. No one had entered her home while she was away which was why she got the carving knife from the kitchen drawer and was now stabbing the empty spaces behind the doors and under her bed.

  ‘Come out, I know you’re there.’ She stopped. What was she doing? Going slightly crazy. Being with Mary Ann had made her see life a little skew-whiff. Leave Mary Ann alone. Get yourself another story, as if she would heed her own advice.

  The morning came with a shock of sunshine, Cecelia had forgotten to close her curtains and now the sunlight was blinding her. Sitting up quickly trying to fan her eyes, she grabbed hold of her alarm clock. It was okay, it was okay, she hadn’t overslept. Why was she behaving like this? The last time her fears got the better of her was almost a year ago, what had she done about that? Changed her name to become someone else.

  Clara, she would become Clara again. It had worked last time which meant it could work again. Clara was the confident one who could see things clearly ahead. Ambitious and strong, and she wasn’t afraid of anyone. She wasn’t afraid of herself.

  Was she unbalanced, probably? As probably this was a lifetime condition from her youth. Patterns and habits build themselves right into the matrix, but it doesn’t have to be like this forever. Another program running over the top could change her life for her. But no more mind-altering medications or going to see a shrink, that’s for sure. Yuk. If she was going to do her life, it had to be her way with the person she knew inside.

  Mapping out her day gave a conscious handle to her reality. Go to the library and read up on the back issues of the Alandra Slasher case, then check in with Detective Travis. Reading the back news didn’t bring any light to what she already knew about the rapes except for the devastation it had on the family. For a man to commit so much tragedy from his wicked needs was pointless. Did he have any comprehension of the suffering he had caused?

  ‘Is Detective Travis available?’ Cecelia asked at the desk always feeling she should confess to whatever was current at the moment. Now biting her bottom lip, she waited while the officer telephoned through. He looked up and smiled then told her to sit and wait. How much time is spent just waiting?

  After Los Angeles, this small city fell too quiet, careless, and even lazy. But living in fear was not a way to live. People are just people trying to get on with their lives. And this is what society is made of, rules and sticking to them for the good of everyone. A few drugs, what did it matter? It was their lives and only a problem if they took their frustration out on good people.

  Out of the metropolis, life wasn’t so bad, especially on a sunny afternoon. A little bit of drama is what everyone needs now and again to keep life interesting. Good lives with good people, even so, Cecelia still didn’t feel like she fitted in. Too long living in the fast life.

  What a relief for less than five minutes later, Detective Travis came out to see Cecelia.

  ‘Come on, let’s go to my office,’ Detective Travis smiled. It looked like good news.

  And it was of sorts. They believe they might have caught the Slasher. Two nights ago, they had a telephone call from someone calling himself, Mr. Vengeance Thou Shalt be Mine, saying that he intended striking again.

  Good news? Frowned Cecelia.

  ‘Between you and me, we have a good idea where he’s living. And it wouldn’t be too premature to pat ourselves on the back. We’re going to get our monster.’

  For some reason, Cecelia felt disappointed. Over already? Just when the excitement had started. Perhaps in this funny state of mind, Cecelia thought she would relay the good news to Mary Ann. Her telephone number was gained on callback. But good news came with a problem, no one answered. Why wasn’t she answering? From what she understood, Mary Ann had become a recluse to the world, staying in because of her fears. Was she okay? Maybe the Slasher had come back to get his revenge. Which meant that she should go and visit.

  Until she reached the florist, Cecelia had forgotten about Phoebe. The exotic smells of the flower shop were wonderful just like coming across an oasis in a grey cement world. Behind the shop counter and singing quietly to herself, Phoebe was putting a bouquet together, her adept hands worked very fast. Sheepish now with her tail between her legs from a promise she had made but forgotten to keep, Cecelia made herself known with a polite cough.

  ‘Hello,’ Phoebe said selecting another bloom which was laid on the counter beside her.
I’m in a rush. I’ve got several orders for a funeral, and I haven’t started on them yet. It was one of the rape victims, so I’m not going to charge full price, just for the value of the flowers. I’m certainly not charging for my own time even though I can’t really afford it, but what the heck. It’s my money; I’ll do with it what I want. Would you like some more flowers?’

  ‘Yes, I do and this time I am going to pay for them.’

  ‘Suit yourself, but I would appreciate it. I can’t carry on giving my livelihood away. Oh, don’t look so worried,’ Phoebe took some tissue paper wrapping around the flowers. ‘I can take care of myself. I like to do these things, it makes me feel good, and besides, who wants to be rich?’ She laughed, her pretty blue-green eyes now merry. ‘And another thing, what would I do with myself if I were rich? It suits me to just to have enough money to do as I like, and have what I want within reason,’ she grinned. ‘Have you ever heard of a rich Bohemian?’

  Taking a towel hanging on a wall, Phoebe dried her hands. A no-nonsense moment that Cecelia found charming.

  ‘Is this for the same friend?’

  ‘Well, she’s hardly a friend,’ grimaced Cecelia.

  ‘Okay, but the same person.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘By the look on your face, I would say this is more a duty than pleasure.’

  The need to tell was great. Looking about her to see if anyone was listening, Cecelia felt she could confide in Phoebe. ‘I’m a journalist and I’m writing a story on the Alandra Slasher.’

  ‘Gosh, really? He’s killed three women. I’m not usually a person who is easily afraid, but this has taken hold of me. People die every day, but not usually by being murdered. These women look like your everyday nice sort of person. It makes you think of getting a man just for protection,’ Phoebe smiled, she had a winning and warm smile. ‘Although I’ve had a man before; marriage is not what you think it is.’

  ‘You were married?’

  ‘Yes, for two years.’ Phoebe bit the top of her nail. ‘I was eighteen, my parents wanted me to go to university, but I had enough of schooling, I wanted to make money. It was a mistake, a big mistake. He was fourteen years older than me. The funny thing was I was advised by his mother not to marry him. She told me he was abusive and that my life would be hell. And she was right. At the time though, I thought I could change him. What an idiot. I was young and I thought the world was beautiful, but it’s not when you’re staring through two black eyes.’ Phoebe stopped to reflect. ‘He made my life hell. He was possessive, and convinced I was seeing other men,’ she bit her bottom lip. ‘And he was right, I was seeing someone else, but only after he had given me a couple of beatings.’

  ‘How awful for you.’

  ‘In the beginning, he was very nice to me, he promised always to look after me—he wouldn’t allow me to do any housework, I was his queen,’ she smiled. ‘And then that day came when a man went out and a monster came home. I was a whore who deserved a good beating. The first time he struck me, I couldn’t believe it happened while he couldn’t believe he had beaten me. We were both in shock. But that shock passed when he beat me again.’

  ‘I could never imagine that…’

  ‘What? That this sort of thing goes on?’ Phoebe smiled wryly. ‘Yes, me too. It always happens to someone else, doesn’t it? Anyhow, it doesn’t matter. I had to get away from him and as far as I could which is why I am here.’

  ‘Did you divorce him?’

  ‘No, unfortunately, we’re still married. I’m terrified of him. I’m sure he is mentally unbalanced. The first time I ran away, he managed to find me. I was staying with friends—he had already been to my family’s home and threatened my parents.’

  ‘Isn’t there anything you can do? Tell the police or take a court order out on him.’

  Phoebe smiled. ‘No one and nothing can protect you if the man you are still married to believes they can do whatever they want to you. You become his possession. I’ve tried to figure this out for years about why I thought I was in love with him. Is there something about me that draws such hatred from another? I don’t know and I can’t completely blame him. I must have a part in the relationship. I must trigger something.’

  ‘No, I disagree with that,’ said Cecelia aggressively. ‘I used to think that I deserved bad things. But that’s allowing these people to do whatever they like to you and not having to take responsibility for their actions.’

  Phoebe smiled. ‘A good way of thinking, and a positive one. But sometimes I think that some people attract bad luck or evil; call it what you like while others dream through life. This is why I believe in karma; I think in my previous life I must have been very wicked and now I’m being punished.’

  ‘No, absolutely not. Why do some people get all the luck? Because they believe they deserve it, and it’s not because they think they are nice people. I don’t know how this luck thing works, but I am trying to go for happiness, and so should you.’

  ‘Yes, that would be nice. I have started a new life in this country, and I’m happy here, but I still know that the day will come when he finds me and this time, put an end to me. That’s why I’ve changed my name back to my maiden name. My husband is called Harold Hardaker, I now call myself Phoebe Howard, but I still don’t feel safe. The funny thing is, he doesn’t look the type of bloke who could harm a fly, yet I still have nightmares about him. Perhaps one day these bad dreams will go away. Perhaps one day, Harry will find someone with who he can be happy with and settle down and have a family. Perhaps with someone else, he might be different.’

  ‘You sound like you still care about him,’ Cecelia was puzzled. She was really beginning to like this feisty young woman. Her openness and generosity to others were delightful. There wasn’t anything about her to dislike.

  ‘I don’t hate him if that’s what you mean,’ considered Phoebe. ‘I fear him of course, but there were some special moments when we married. I just don’t know what happened to him.’ She shook her head. ‘Insecurity, I don’t know or perhaps there is a part of them which is evil. I don’t know. Have you ever been married?’

  ‘No,’ Cecelia’s answer was quick. ‘I often considered it. There was someone I thought I loved, but he was already married. Such a shock to find this out. I couldn’t believe he was married.’

  ‘Life,’ shrugged Phoebe. ‘We stumble through it blindly, trusting, and hoping. Perhaps if we knew what was going to happen in the future, we would change our minds. But everyone has their own agenda, and it’s not always the same as the person they are hooked up with.’

  Cecelia smiled, the more she was learning about Phoebe, the more she liked her, she was not too dissimilar to herself in many ways. A quick flick at her watch warned Phoebe that it was time for Cecelia to go. Time for them to get back to their lives. They stepped out of this world into another of friendship, and it was enchanting.

  Taking a few references of the person Cecelia was visiting, Phoebe selected a bouquet of pink and white carnations, delicately scented and extraordinarily lovely. It suddenly seemed a shame to give them away to someone Cecelia wasn’t keen on. Phoebe smiled at Cecelia when she handed the bouquet. A price was negotiated with the help of smiles. When Cecelia left, footloose on the step with the jangle of bells in her ears, Phoebe stayed near the shop door watching Cecelia leave. Such a nice person, Cecelia found herself thinking. What a different way to decide where she should live when her old jalopy broke down. It was a nice interlude to the day as she strolled along the sidewalk to take a yellow cab.

  On her good behavior, Cecelia rang the doorbell while rehearsing what she should say.

  ‘Why Cecelia, fancy seeing you here, what a lovely surprise,’ said Mary Ann, she was wearing white gloves. ‘Come on in, come in. It’s such a lovely day,’ her voice was cloudy with good manners and dipped into a dive of warmness. ‘I’ve just made a jug of lemonade. I’ll get you a glass. Come and sit down. I was just thinking of you. Are they for me?’

  They we
re.

  The flowers were gratefully accepted as a pleased Mary Ann followed behind sniffing at the flower heads, petal by petal.

  ‘I’ll put them in some water. How lovely. My little home is being filled with flowers.’

  Watching Mary Ann taking the flowers through to the kitchen, she noted how cheerfully she sang to herself, Cecelia was aware of a very domesticated scene.

  Warm inside the house, the smell of perfume, fresh lavender had filled every room with coolness.

  ‘I’ve got you a glass of lemonade,’ now handing Cecelia the glass, Mary Ann took a seat opposite her. ‘Now, why do I have the pleasure of your wonderful company again.’ She sipped her cooled lemon.

  ‘I tried to telephone you just over an hour ago.’

  ‘You did. Did you telephone the right number—I’ve done that before.’

  ‘It was your number, I made certain of it,’ said Cecelia, gratefully sipping the chilled drink.

  ‘Oh, how very strange, I never heard it,’ she smiled and sipped her drink. ‘It must be just one of those things.’

  ‘Yes.’ And yet, these instincts which everyone supposes to have at those certain times were now running up and taking their stations. Cecelia couldn’t think why, but there was something different about Mary Ann. Her breath came in heavy stages as if she had been running. ‘You sound like you are out of breath.’

  ‘I do?’ she looked surprised. ‘You’re right, I’ve just run through the house to answer the door,’ and then she smiled coyly. ‘Stupid because I thought you might be the Slasher calling on me.’

  ‘You don’t need to worry about that anymore. The police are closing in on him, but that’s between you and me.’

  ‘They think they’ve caught him?’ Surprise, Mary Ann curled up her eyebrow. ‘They think they’ve caught him, and so quickly?’

  ‘Yes, that’s the police for you. Which means you don’t have to worry. You will be safe. He will be convicted and locked behind bars forever. Aren’t you pleased?’