Night Watcher (15 page)

‘Bloody waste of time if you ask me,’ Bill replied. ‘To think I got called away from what might have been a promising relationship to see to a neurotic bitch like that.’ He frowned into the darkness trying to visualize Julie’s face, but from the short time they had been together all he could recall was her large, sad eyes that looked at him, but seemed to see someone else.

‘Oh, I don’t know. Granted it was a strange story and we’ve no evidence that any of it happened, but it does make me wonder.’ Andy fell silent. ‘What d’you make of the husband?’

‘Bit of a smoothie. I wouldn’t trust him with my wallet.’

‘D’you think he maybe set his wife up? Trying to give her a bit of a scare, or d’you go with her story of some nocturnal prowler?’

‘I suppose it could be either, but I’m more inclined to go with the theory that she’s a neurotic bitch who’s looking for a bit of attention from hubby.’

‘Doesn’t explain the animals though.’ Andy rummaged in his pocket for a cigarette. ‘They both agree the animals were there when they got home,’ Andy stuck the cigarette between his lips, ‘and then they vanished.’

Bill grunted. He was not in the mood for vanishing animal mysteries. ‘Not really Sherlock Holmes stuff though, is it,’ he said.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

The crowds in Donovan’s kept increasing and with each swing of the door more people packed themselves into the crowded bar. Julie narrowed her eyes as the clattering glasses, chattering voices, and strident background music jangled through her head setting her nerves on edge. The gathering pain building in her temples was becoming more than she could bear.

‘Won’t your wife be wondering where you are?’ Julie sipped at her drink trying to overcome the pain and the accompanying nausea.

Harry swallowed the remains of his beer and then rolled the now empty pint glass between the palms of his hands. He contemplated it for a moment before he spoke, his voice barely audible over the noise in the pub. ‘She’s used to me. As long as I go home for a wee while to see Rosie to bed she doesn’t worry, and I did that before I came out.’ He sighed. ‘Sometimes I wish she’d bawl me out, but she never does. It makes me feel guilty in a way. It’s as if she takes all the blame on herself, and I don’t know how to make it better for her. I can’t get her to understand that Rosie’s just Rosie, and it doesn’t matter that she’s not like other kids. I feel I’ve failed her.’

Julie stretched her arm across the table and laid her hand on top of one of his. ‘I’m sure she thinks you’re a good man, Harry.’

Harry laughed, ‘A good man? I just wish I was.’ He contemplated his empty glass. ‘I don’t deserve her,’ he mumbled.

Julie raised her glass to her mouth, but the thought of taking another mouthful was too much for her and she carefully placed it back on the table. ‘I think I’ve had enough, Harry.’ The room tilted slightly and the crowds pressed in on her making it difficult to breathe. She would feel better once she was out in the fresh air. ‘Think I’ll get a taxi.’ She rose from her seat, steadying herself with a hand on the wall, and pushed her way to the door.

‘Maybe I’d better see you into the taxi.’ Harry seemed to be frowning at her.

‘Nonsense,’ she said, pushing the door open. The fresh air slapped her in the face and her knees buckled. She staggered a few steps outside and leaned on the building for support. ‘Oh God, I’m going to be sick,’ she muttered, before sliding down the wall and collapsing into a heap on the pavement.

***

Ken stared after Claire as she stormed out of the kitchen. ‘Christ almighty,’ he muttered to himself, ‘what’s come over the bloody woman.’ He raised the can of beer to his lips and gulped, but his eyes were troubled because, in his own way, he loved her. It was just that he was not used to her making so much fuss about any of his little romances. After all who did they hurt? They just made life that little bit more interesting. He drained the can and, squeezing it flat, threw it into the rubbish bin beside the sink.

He was tempted to go after Claire, but as usual he took the easy way out and reached into the fridge for another beer. It was not as if he had been doing anything he shouldn’t have tonight, he thought, deliberately forgetting his afternoon session with Nicole. So Claire had no right to be so uptight about it. Still, he thought, he had better end it with Nicole. Pity really, because she was hot stuff. He would tell Nicole tomorrow. Or maybe the next day, although he supposed it might be better to wait until Patrick’s plans were clear and he had filched all Nicole’s ideas.

Ken sat down at the kitchen table and several beers later he was sure of what he was going to do, and positive he would never look at another woman again. It was Claire for him, Claire and the kids and no way was he going to lose them.

Feeling pleased with himself he rose and walked through to the lounge, eager to tell Claire how much he loved her and convince her she had no need to worry about him straying again. From now on he was a homebird.

The lounge was in darkness.

His heart jumped and fluttered inside his chest as he experienced a sudden twinge of irrational fear that she might have left him already. But he would have heard the door as well as her car starting up if that was the case, and he had heard nothing. He switched on the light thinking she might be sitting in the dark, but the room was empty. Toys lay scattered on the carpet and a solitary wine glass adorned the antique sideboard. Absent-mindedly he picked it up, but there was no ring mark on the polished wood so he laid it down again. The silence in the empty room was broken only by the slow tick of the grandfather clock in the corner and he realized with a jolt that it was after midnight.

Breath whistled out of his lungs in a long drawn out sigh as his paranoia vanished. Of course Claire would never leave him. She would have gone to bed, that was all. Probably too angry to say goodnight, he thought.

He turned towards the stairs. Maybe she wouldn’t be sleeping. Maybe he could sweet-talk her, and tomorrow, or the next day, it would be goodbye to Nicole.

The bedroom was quiet when he entered, but he sensed Claire was not sleeping. He bent over her and extended his hand to stroke her hair. It was at that exact moment his mobile rang.

‘Blast it,’ Ken muttered under his breath. ‘Who the hell can that be at this time of the night.’ He quickly left the bedroom closing the door behind him and walked along the landing into the bathroom where he sat on the toilet seat to answer his phone.

‘Ken. Is that you?’ Nicole’s voice sounded strange.

‘Of course it’s me. Who else would it be?’ His voice was sharp with annoyance. ‘You almost woke Claire,’ he complained.

‘Fuck, Claire,’ she said. ‘I’ve had the most awful evening and I wanted to talk to you. You’re the only one who can understand.’

Ken gritted his teeth and listened while Nicole told him what had happened. She finished by saying, ‘Scott is the most selfish bastard out, he doesn’t have a single bit of understanding or sympathy for me so I’ve decided I’m finished with him. It’ll be you and me, Ken, what we’ve always wanted and never thought we could have. I’ll talk to you in the morning and we can make our plans about when we’ll tell Scott and Claire. Love you darling.’ The phone clicked as Nicole hung up.

Ken sat for several minutes, staring at the phone. He had never meant all those promises, surely she must realize that. He had only made them because he believed, just as she had, that he would never have to keep them. What a bloody mess.

He shivered. Rising from his seat, he tiptoed to the bedroom where he quickly undressed and slid into the bed beside Claire, to lie wide awake for the rest of the night, staring into the darkness.

***

Harry stared at Julie in dismay. He could not leave her here. He would have to get her home. He looked round him for a taxi, but the streets were deserted and he didn’t have a mobile. Babs kept telling him to get one, but most of them were expensive and he never got round to it. He thought about going back into the pub to phone – but that would mean leaving her sprawled on the pavement and he could not do that. Thoughts buzzed round his mind, popping in and out in no particular order. Babs always said he was not good at thinking out problems and she was right.

He bent down, ‘Julie, Julie.’ He shook her, but she only mumbled. ‘Where d’you live, Julie? I need to know so I can get you home.’ Julie’s head rolled limply as if she were a baby who had not yet developed neck muscles. It was hopeless. Harry knew she would not come round for some time yet so he hoisted her up until he could get her armpit resting on his shoulder. He was not a particularly big man and she was tall for a woman so he did not have to stoop too far. But what now? Look for a taxi? But where could he take her? He could not go home to Babs with a strange young woman who’d had too much to drink. He doubted if even Babs would understand that. There was only one place and luckily it was not too far to walk.

‘C’mon Julie, help me just a little bit,’ he pleaded, as he steered her along the pavement, his shoulder buckling under her weight.

Julie’s head lolled against his and she mumbled something incoherent as she lifted her arm, which had been dangling down his back, and wrapped it round his neck.

‘Attagirl,’ he said. ‘Now just let’s see your feet moving and we’ll be there in no time at all.’

Harry ignored the curious stares of the few people who were on the street as they stumbled along the pavement. He kept his eyes fixed on his target, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other and keeping hold of Julie so she would not fall. ‘Soon be there,’ he panted, as the entrance to the alley grew nearer. But the last few yards felt like miles.

When he reached the entrance to the alley he propped Julie against the wall and, coughing and wheezing, tried to get his breath back. Several people passed by, but if they seemed a mite too interested, Harry scowled at them, and they soon hurried on their way. After a time his breathing became more even. He repositioned Julie on his shoulder and, with some difficulty, steered her down the alley.

Harry had to prop her against the wall again as he searched for his key and unlocked the door. He manoeuvred her inside, but was unable to hold her up while he keyed in the alarm security number. ‘Oh, Julie,’ he murmured, ‘what a state you’ve got yourself into.’ Bending down he pulled her up, ‘Won’t be long now,’ he said, as he half-lifted and half-dragged her along the passage.

The lift hummed gently upward sounding eerie in the silence of the store. The doors shushed open and Harry dragged Julie through them into a pool of darkness. The security lighting at the far end of the shop floor did not quite reach the lift, making the shapes around them seem strange and menacing. However, Harry did not need lighting to know his way around and he manoeuvred Julie through the avenues between the rows of furniture until he reached the bedding department.

‘Which one, now? The best, of course,’ he muttered as he inspected the display and, choosing one of the most expensive, he hoisted Julie into the bed.

She flopped, pulling him down with her so that he had to untangle himself from her arms. Her body sprawled where she had fallen, her blouse twisted upwards under her breasts and her skirt had ridden so far up it exposed thighs, topped with cream lace panties that hardly covered anything. Harry drew in a long, shaky breath. She was a very attractive woman.

With trembling fingers he loosened the buttons of her blouse and slipped it from her shoulders, drawing in his breath at the amount of scarring on her arms. But, deciding it was none of his business, he turned his attention to her skirt which just slipped off after it was unfastened. With a deep sigh of regret Harry grabbed a duvet from one of the displays and tucked it round her.

‘Only the best for you, Julie,’ he murmured, ‘sleep well and I’ll make sure I get back here in time to wake you before the store opens.’

CHAPTER THIRTY

Darkness was his friend. It moved with him as he slipped from shadow to shadow until he reached his own secret entrance.

Nobody knew he had a key, and nobody knew the alarm system no longer worked down here in the bowels of the building.

He was home.

He rested awhile in his secret, dark place, listening to the rats and mice scraping in the corners. They were his friends. He felt an affinity with them. Soon their soft rhythmic scrapings lulled him to sleep, but sleep was not natural for him and he woke again to the lullaby of familiar noises – the scrabbling, scraping sounds, the hiss of the pipes and the faint drip of water on stone.

The smell of the dark cradled him. It was a moist smell, like something on the turn, not quite rotten, but well on its way. Mixing with the fetid aroma was the familiar scent of oil and grease, entwined with something akin to paraffin or petrol.

His legs had stiffened under him. Leaning forward he massaged his calves, flexed his knees and rotated his ankles. It was time to go wandering again, while he thought about his next attack on the woman. He would leave a gift in her office. That would be nice.

The store, slumbering in silence as he walked through it, was his domain. During the daytime it belonged to the people, but at night it was his. He could wander wherever he liked. Do whatever he liked, in this place of dark secrets and shadowy corners.

Always he started from the bottom of the store and worked his way up. He particularly liked the food hall with its tall shelving units casting darker shadows than anywhere else in the store. He was there now running his hands along the shelves among the familiar objects. Selecting a packet of cheese he nibbled at it as he climbed the stairs, what he did not eat would do for the mice.

He liked enclosed spaces, but had never felt safe in the lift. It was something to do with the motion, and something to do with his lack of control over it. The stairs, however, reminded him of tunnels, particularly when they were dark. He liked the dark and he liked tunnels. Maybe he should introduce the woman to some of his tunnels. He had an idea this would increase her fear.

He wandered through the first floor fashion department. It was another favourite of his. He liked to stroke the materials; rub his hands over the furs – pity they were all fake nowadays – and finger the silks, rubbing them against his face and imagining what it would be like if they were on her.

The door sighed shut behind him when he left, cocooning him on the stairs again. He climbed higher until he came to the next door which led into the furnishing department. Sometimes he came here to sit in their fancy chairs or lie in their fancy beds. They never knew.

Tonight though, there was a mound in one of the beds. He crept towards it, his footsteps silent on the carpet, until he stood alongside. He was curious. As far as he knew he was the only one who crept about the store at night, so who could be sleeping here.

He fingered the edge of the duvet and pulled it away from her chin. It was the other one, although what she was doing here he could not imagine.

He studied her. Her face was flushed with sleep and her short hair lay in a tousled mess on the pillow. There was something childlike about her. He stroked her hair back from her face with one finger following the shape of her head. Hardly touching her skin, his finger traced the curve of her neck – such a lovely, smooth, white neck – his finger hovered for a moment and then withdrew. She mumbled, but did not wake which was just as well because he did not know what he would have done if she had awakened.

He had a sudden urge to leave her a gift so he returned to the fashion department and selected the most expensive silk scarf on display. Then he went back to Julie’s bedside and draped it round her neck.

He stroked her hair before returning to his mission of leaving the perfect gift in the bitch-woman’s office. But after that he would return and keep watch over the other one. It would be a long night.