Night Watcher (23 page)

Evelyn reached for the phone. ‘I’ll ask her to come back upstairs. Shall I?’

‘No need for that,’ Bill said, smiling pleasantly and making Evelyn blush again. ‘Just tell me where to find her.’

‘If you’re sure then.’ Bill could hear a trace of doubt in Evelyn’s voice, ‘You’ll find her in the food hall. It’s on the basement floor.’

Bill whistled as the lift descended. He had not felt so happy for a long time.

***

It was the second time Julie had been disturbed in her office. She had not done any work since Nicole left, although she was less confused and gradually returning to normal. She had managed to push the guilt feelings away by telling herself that she owed Nicole nothing, on the contrary Nicole owed her a life, Dave’s life. So when the knock on the door came she was feeling considerably more alert.

‘Come in,’ she shouted in response, thinking maybe Nicole had returned.

‘Hi,’ Bill said, standing there grinning at her. ‘I didn’t think I was going to find you again.’

Julie hid her confusion by shuffling the papers on her desk. ‘Did you have some more questions?’ she asked without looking up.

‘A very important one.’ He pushed the door shut with his foot and sat down in the chair opposite her, although she had not invited him. ‘When I left Donovan’s the other night you never told me when we could meet again. So, I thought I’d come to arrange it now.’

Her pulse quickened and she was aware of her heart thumping so much it was almost choking her. ‘I wasn’t aware I’d agreed to meet you again.’ She tried to keep her voice calm, but was not making a very good job of it. ‘Anyway, isn’t that a bit unprofessional of you considering you’ve just interviewed me in connection with an investigation.’

‘Ah, but I didn’t interview you. Sue did. Besides, the police work with the entire population, so does that mean we can never ask an attractive woman out.’

Julie laughed. ‘I think you’re stretching it a bit. Anyway what makes you think I’d like to meet you again?’

‘You’d be as well to say yes, you know, because now I know where to find you I’ll never leave you alone until you agree. What about tonight?’

‘Not possible. Nicole has asked me to keep her company tonight because she’s alone.’ Was that a lie, or wasn’t it? She had not said she was going.

‘Tomorrow then?’

‘I don’t know what I’m doing tomorrow.’

‘Okay, I can take a hint.’ He grinned and stood up. I’ll be back tomorrow anyway to interview the security man. ‘See you then,’ he said as he left her office.

She watched the door close and once again had that strange urge to run after him. She had botched it again, but maybe not completely because he was coming back tomorrow to see Harry.

‘Damnation,’ she muttered. She had forgotten to phone Harry.

Lifting the phone she dialled. After several rings a woman’s voice answered.

‘Mrs Watson? This is Patrick Drake’s department store. I’d like to speak to Harry.’

‘I’m sorry, but Harry lost his job with you today so I really don’t know if he’d want to speak to you.’ The woman sounded distressed.

‘Mrs Watson, tell him it’s Julie on the phone,’ she hesitated. ‘I’m a friend of his.’

‘It doesn’t make any difference. He came home and then he went out again. He was in an awful state.’ Julie thought she heard the woman sob. ‘And now, I don’t know where he is or when he’s coming back.’

‘Mrs Watson, when he comes back tell him he’s got his job back. I’ve spoken to his boss and it’s going to be all right.’

‘I’ll tell him, if he comes back.’ The phone clicked down.

Damn, Julie thought, I should have phoned him earlier.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

He waited until he was sure no one was left in the building. Then he crept out of his secret hiding place into the darkness of the early evening. The stone steps up to the outside world were slippery with an accumulation of grease which had built up over many years. He climbed upwards, into that dangerous world of other people with staring eyes; eyes that shifted and moved away from him only to watch him when they thought he was not looking.

Smells wafted down to meet him: interesting smells; rotting smells; the smells of corruption and putrefaction – fascinating smells. Rubbish blew down the deserted alley, fluttering and rolling until it gathered in the lowest corner, where it trembled and settled.

His fingers traced the cold stonework as he moved slowly up the alley. However, despite his attempts to blend into the shadows of the building where they were at their deepest, they were no protection once he came to the street.

He disliked the street intensely. There were too many people, too many eyes. Eyes were everywhere, staring at him, spying on him when he was on his travels. In these situations he had often tried to pull his cloak of invisibility around him, but it did not work under the harsh street lighting and the flickering, shining eyes of passing traffic. And all he could do was scuttle through the streets, eyes down, until he found the darker, quieter places he preferred.

He knew it would be no different tonight, but he had his work to do, his mission to complete, which left him no option but to reveal himself. A premonition tingled in his bones, he had great faith in his premonitions, they came from the Greater Being. So he hesitated on the corner before sidling round it onto the street.

If he had not been so close to the wall he would not have bumped into the rowdy group of young men congregated in front of one of Drake’s display windows. But he did, and it was too late to draw back.

Two of the men turned and glared at him. ‘Watch where you’re going, you fucker,’ the one with the leather jacket said.

They clustered round him, surrounding him, pushing and prodding him and breathing their fume-laden breath into his face. For a moment he was transported back in time to the ward, where he feared the lunatics were going to invade his body and take over his mind. Desperation, like the clutching of firm fingers round his chest, almost stopped the beat of his heart. He was being suffocated, the dark was closing in on him, but it was an unfriendly dark filled with bodies, not like the dark he loved. He had to escape. He tried to push past them, but there were too many and they stood too close together.

‘The bastard pushed me,’ the guy with the tattooed forehead grunted.

‘You going to let him off with that?’

‘No way.’

The bodies smelled of sweat and filth. He knew he was being taken over and his panic mounted. If they took over his body and mind how would he complete his mission.

‘Aw, leave him alone.’ This man was a bit older than the others and he held out a bottle. ‘Have a drink mate and we’ll call it quits.’

He pressed his back into the cool glass of the window, shaking his head. Alcohol was Satan’s weapon. He could not allow it to pass his lips.

‘My drink no good enough for ye,’ the older man roared. His eyes glared and his face twisted into a menacing mask. ‘Ye see that fellas, he’ll no drink with me. That’s an insult, that is.’

His panic mounted. It was like an animal inside him struggling wildly to get out. He twisted his head from side to side, his eyes bulged. He tried to slide away from them, but his path was blocked. The feeling of invasion increased. He slipped a hand into his pocket and caressed the cold steel of the blade. Pulling it out, he waved it at them. They would go now.

‘Bastard’s got a knife,’ leather jacket shouted.

The other one did not wait, but swung his bottle.

The blow was sharp, bringing with it an exquisite pain. Somewhere far away he heard the window cave in. He floated for a moment, feeling something wet trickle down his forehead, before sliding slowly to the ground. A booted foot kicked his precious knife out of his hand, and he flexed his fingers feebly in a vain attempt to hold on to it. Then he was vaguely aware of the older man, the one with the glaring eyes, bending over him and forcing Satan’s drink into his mouth and down his throat. ‘No bugger refuses to drink with me,’ were the last words he heard.

When he woke up he was no longer lying on the pavement. He was in a strange place. Somewhere he had never been before. There were bars on the windows and the door was made of steel. He tried to open it, but it was locked. He gave up and cowered on the bench-like bed with his knees drawn up to his chin.

For the first time in his life he had failed in his mission and surely this was his punishment.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

Julie pushed herself beyond the pain barrier, but still her feet thudded on the pavement in a rhythmic pattern. If only life were as simple as running.

She was passing the darkest bit of her running route, the entrance to Balgay Park which, as usual, tried to seduce her with its solitude and shadows. There had been many times over the past six months when she had thought she wanted to embrace the dark, that she would find peace there. At these times she was tempted to enter the shadows, but tonight she kept going, no longer sure whether she was running into the dark or away from the dark.

The repetitive beat of her feet was like music playing familiar chords over and over again. The breeze, wafting over her face and lifting the ends of her hair, a friend she had known for a long time. Even the street smells, car fumes, foliage, damp soil, and the odd whiff of animal urine, was pleasant. Running was a solace for her, it cleared her mind and allowed her to think, or so she believed. Up until now those thoughts had been angry thoughts of revenge. Destructive thoughts that threatened to destroy not only Nicole, but herself as well.

She reached the crest of the slight hill and stopped to look at the spreading lights of Ninewells below. Bending over, she clutched her middle with one hand and a nearby lamp-post with the other. The muscles in her legs quivered and ached now they were no longer being pushed beyond their capabilities, while each breath she took tore painfully from her chest leaving her weak and gasping. Her hand tightened on the icy, wet surface of the lamp-post. The hospital had always had an effect on her, arousing mixed feelings of despair and anger, and tonight it looked the same as always, a conglomeration of buildings winking their lights into the surrounding darkness. A sight that usually reinforced her desire for revenge, but tonight, she just felt sadness.

Her breath rasped painfully in her chest, but it was only physical, not the intense, overwhelming emotional agony that had all but destroyed her. She was able to think of Dave now without suffering that searing pain, remembering the good times and the not so good times, and all that was left was sadness. It all seemed so long ago. Maybe it was time to say goodbye to him.

Cold sweat trickled from her hair into the sweatband she wore round her forehead. Her shirt clung damply to her back. Maybe she should feel happy now she’d had her revenge, a revenge that was more complete than she had ever imagined it could be. But it was an unsatisfying revenge, which made her feel soiled and dirty.

‘Goodbye, Dave,’ she murmured, turning her back on the hospital and forcing her legs to run again, away from the dark and into a new life. Tomorrow, she promised herself, I’ll really do it. I’ll hand in my notice. It’s time I returned to Edinburgh and got on with my life. She smiled as she ran, no longer conscious of the pain. There was a lot she had to do so that she could start living again.

***

Dusk was gathering by the time Nicole arrived home. Her nerves jittered, sending spikes through her body like breaking glass, making it difficult for her to handle her remote control and keys. She skidded the car to a stop, as near to the door as she could take it, and, not bothering to lock or garage the car she bolted for the house door. Once inside she locked it and then inspected the house making sure all the other doors and windows were secure. Even then she did not feel totally safe.

The kitchen was still a mess from the morning and she tiptoed through the debris to inspect the fridge. There was nothing in it she fancied, but then she decided she was not hungry anyway.

She percolated some coffee; then did not drink it.

She wandered through the house, but did not know what to do with herself.

She turned the television on and turned it off again.

She rechecked the windows and doors.

She worried the ends of her hair, winding it round and round her fingers and pulling the ends into her mouth where she sucked it just as she had done when she was a little girl.

Nothing helped.

Eventually she curled up in one of the white leather armchairs, her feet tucked beneath her and her arms hugging her middle while she sang the words to a long forgotten children’s song.

She thought she was going mad.

She must have dozed off, for when she woke it was dark outside. The external lights must have gone off or maybe she had forgotten to put them on, but she did not think so. The table lamp at the side of her chair spilled a pool of light onto her, but the dim shadows in the corners of the room seemed to move, expanding and threatening until she was almost ready to scream. She bit her knuckles until the blood came. She was sure she had switched on the ceiling light when she came in, but maybe she hadn’t.

The house creaked and settled in its silence. Even that worried her.

She steeled herself to get out of the chair and switched the light on. Maybe she would go through the house and put on every light, although she had a vague recollection she had done that when she arrived home.

Her finger was on the light switch when she heard footsteps in the hall. At least it sounded like footsteps, but maybe she was mistaken about that as well. Maybe it was just her nerves. She wrapped her arms round her middle, clutching her skin with pincer-like fingers to make sure she was awake. But still the footsteps came. Hollow and echoing and menacing.

The door handle turned, but she could not move.

The door opened.

She sighed, a long, low sigh of relief. ‘Oh, it’s you.’

‘I’m sorry, but I found this when I came in.’ The hands that cradled the body of Ralph, the big ginger cat, were gentle.

Tears flowed down her cheeks as she held out her arms for Ralph. His body was still warm, his fur still as silky as she remembered, but he was quite, quite dead. ‘Oh, poor Ralph. Not you as well?’ She cuddled the cat to her body and, turning her back, placed him on a cushion.

The hands circled her neck, gentle, but strong. The fingers caressed her skin. ‘Stop playing around,’ she said, ‘you know how frightened I’ve been.’ The hands tightened, holding her in a bruising grip, and it was then that she knew. She wanted to ask why, but it was too late. She struggled, desperate to break free, but the grip tightened. Then the lights grew dim. And soon there was only the dark.

***

It had been a pig of a day and it had not got any better. Now it had become a nightmare. Ken stared at Nicole’s body, sprawled on the white carpet in an elegant pose that some might have thought artistic.

He knelt down beside her and stroked her forehead. Her eyes stared at him, blank, unseeing and partly blood filled. There were scratch marks on her chin where she had tried to pry the choking hands loose, and finger tip bruises on her throat.

Suddenly he wanted to be sick. He ran to the bathroom and hung his head over the toilet pan and retched. A mouthful of yellow bile burned his throat with a painful intensity that was worse than the pain that gripped his ribs. But still he retched and retched, although there was nothing in his stomach.

The scene with Claire was still bright in his mind. ‘That damned woman phoned here,’ she had screamed at him. ‘Here of all places. Demanded you go and see her.’ Cool, calm Claire had burned with an anger he had never thought she possessed. Her anger had sparked his and he had slammed out of the house without his dinner. He had driven for miles, and walked along the beach for miles, before he had come here.

He had used the keypad to open the gates, and then driven up to the house. That was his first mistake. When he found the back door open he had come into the house. That was his second mistake.

He rested his forehead on the cool china of the toilet bowl unable to stop seeing Nicole sprawled on the lounge floor. At least now he was free, he thought, with grim amusement. Suddenly he felt like laughing and as the giggle started, it sounded, even to his ears, deranged.

Panic surfaced. It would be disastrous if he was found here with Nicole’s body. It would be the end of his reputation and his career. Patrick Drake would never stand for the scandal. He had to get out.

Bile resurfaced in his throat as he levered himself up. He thought he might be sick again, but he swallowed hard. Grabbing a wad of toilet paper, he scrubbed the edge of the bowl, the sink and the taps before finally polishing the cistern handle, depressing it with his elbow, and then dropping the paper down the toilet to be flushed away.

He retraced his steps to the lounge and, taking his handkerchief from his pocket, he polished every surface he might have touched. Then with one last look at Nicole he left the house.

His hands were shaking so badly when he got into the car that he had difficulty starting the engine, and then, when it finally roared into life, his driving was so erratic he nearly crashed into one of the gateposts. In his hurry he did not bother to close the gates behind him, it no longer mattered. Nicole was dead.