Three Steps Behind You (21 page)

Being strangled by Adam.

Unless, of course, it’s horseplay. I know how Adam likes his horseplay, now.

On the flipside, his hands are round his neck, and she is bright red.

It might be a sex game. Although it is men who are supposed to get arousal from strangulation. Being strangled themselves, that is. Maybe for Adam it works the other way round.

Or maybe it is just what it looks like. Maybe he is killing her.

Chapter 26

I wonder if I should play him on. Perhaps there is a good rhythm for strangulation. Some kind of za-za-za-zah-zaAH frenzy to a crescendo. Then Nicole, gone. And whatever is inside her.

But yes, inside her – wait! If Nicole is gone, where does that leave Luke? Maybe he is better off. Or I am better off. Maybe that closeness is no longer necessary. Maybe book four is redundant, or maybe there’s a better, mutual, sequel to book three. I don’t know what Adam’s motivation is for this act. It could be pro-me. Or it could just be anti-Nicole. I could smash in the window, like last time. Or I could just hide, and wait for a windfall. Again, like last time – a different time.

But suddenly I don’t have a choice. Because Adam sees me.

Maybe I moved. Maybe he was drawn to me. Maybe the violin music belatedly penetrated his psyche. Or maybe Nicole saw me and used her last breath to say he was being witnessed.

Either way, Adam freezes, eyes locked on me. I am a man who finds strangulation arousing, it seems, when combined with eye contact. I imagine Adam could tell, were he looking at my crotch, in these leggings. But his eyes remain, as ever, at head height.

He slackens his hold of Nicole, who at first sags, then begins to struggle away from him. Adam clamps a hand around her shoulder, restraining her. He pulls Nicole with him to the French window and opens it.

‘Who’s there?’ he asks.

And then I realise. Still, after all these years, after all these melodies, he doesn’t know me. I am a stranger. I could be anyone, under the mask, stood out here, in this garden. Seeing him strangle his wife. Perhaps he wouldn’t have stopped on my account, if he knew who I was.

‘It’s me,’ I say, pulling off the mask.

‘Dan!’ shouts Nicole. She breaks free from Adam and runs out into the garden, flinging her arms around my chest, crushing the violin. She thinks I killed her predecessor, yet she comes running to me.

‘Adam?’ I ask.

‘I couldn’t breathe, Dan! I couldn’t breathe!’ Nicole burbles into my shoulder.

‘More horseplay?’ I ask Adam.

Adam shakes his head. ‘No, not horseplay – just unforgiveable behaviour.’ He rushes out into the garden towards Nicole. ‘Nic, honey, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.’

Nicole shrinks even further into my arms, pivoting my body so that I am between her and Adam. I can feel her nails dig into my skin. ‘Don’t touch me!’ she sobs.

Adam continues advancing. ‘Nic, forgive me, I just got carried away. I love you.’ He kneels down on the grass before us. He smoothes his hand over her belly. She jerks away, but her nails withdraw from my skin. ‘I love us,’ he whispers, kissing her stomach. ‘It just made me angry, what you said,’ he explains, looking up at her, the sapphires on full dazzle. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you.’

Nicole is sobbing less now.

I venture taking more of a role than just pillar for battered wives.

‘What did she say?’ I ask.

Adam breathed deeply. ‘She said … she said I didn’t love her. That if I did, I would help her find out who killed Helen. That otherwise, I as good as killed her myself, and all the other innocents the driver will run over.’

I nod. That’s enough to make anyone angry.

‘We were both saying things, it was a silly fight, a marital tiff that got out of hand. Didn’t it, darling?’

Nicole nods and sniffs, but she doesn’t let go of me.

I see Adam have an idea.

‘Look,’ he says, ‘why don’t we call a cab, you can go round to Dan’s, we’ll both calm down, and then I’ll come and pick you up a bit later. Okay?’

Nicole begins to move away from me then. I’ve ceased to be the saviour. I see her notice my naked torso, then the sabre.

Stuck between me and Adam, she looks up at me.

‘It’ll be just like the fair, except more fun,’ I say. I think I see her shudder. ‘And you can get to know me even better.’

How much better, she doesn’t yet know. But even if she suspects, she shouldn’t be able to resist the chance to watch me, find me out, on my own turf for the first time.

‘I can’t promise you lobster,’ I say. ‘But I have fish fingers.’

Nicole smiles. It doesn’t reach her eyes. ‘I can’t eat shellfish anyway.’ She takes a tentative step in my direction.

‘I can even give you a sneak preview of book four, if you like,’ I offer. ‘Sorry. Book three. I meant book three. Getting ahead of myself.’ I mustn’t forget they don’t know what I know. That they can’t be allowed to count the real book three.

Another step towards me. Again, a false smile. This is it. I have lured her in with her desire to know me, what I have done. She has a security blanket, I’m sure she thinks, in Adam turning up. But a lot can happen between now and then.

‘Go on, Nicole,’ presses Adam. ‘Please – for me. I’ll come and pick you up, around ten, when we’re both calm. Let me call a cab.’

Nicole nods slowly and travels the rest of the distance towards me. But her frown, that same old frown, the one that comes with thoughts attached, breaks through her smile.

Adam kisses and hugs Nicole again, before leaving the garden to summon a taxi. Nicole and I stay in the garden. We can see the house that Luke and I viewed, with her, but she doesn’t mention it. She is focused on the now.

‘Why are you here?’ she asks.

‘Fate,’ I say.

She snorts. ‘Why are you here really?’

I decide to be almost truthful. The seduction must start somewhere.

‘I wanted to serenade you,’ I say. ‘With the violin.’

‘And the mask?’

‘Adds excitement.’

‘And the naked torso?’

‘Ditto.’

She snorts again. But I see her look at the torso.

‘Anyway, I thought you weren’t interested in women,’ she says.

‘You also thought I killed Helen,’ I parry.

I expect her to say ‘think’. Or just deny it.

But she doesn’t. She just pulls her cardigan closer to her. And we sit outside and look at the moon, until the taxi arrives.

Chapter 27

It is not how I’d planned it – so impromptu, no lobsters, no tidying been done. But I have Nicole here, at my home, for hours, before Adam arrives. That is the important thing.

I see Nicole’s lips curl at the greyness of my dwelling.

‘Inside, it’s better,’ I say.

I force the key into the lock and open the front door. Going ahead of Nicole, I try to see it through her eyes. Dirty cream carpet, very off-white walls, narrow hallway. I switch us into darkness again.

‘We’ll have candles,’ I say.

She takes off her red beret, and shakes out all that mousy hair in a way that maybe men are supposed to find attractive. I usher her out of her mac. As I fold it onto the floor by the door, I notice it says ‘Maternity Range’ on the label. I cast a look at her stomach.

‘Still only just beginning to show, aren’t I?’ she says, noticing the look.

I nod, relieved. It will make my work easier.

‘So, can I have the grand tour?’ she asks.

I don’t remember her ever giving me a grand tour of her house. But then, she only arrived in it after Adam. So I knew everything about it already – every nook and cranny, every vulnerable entrance point.

‘It’s not very grand,’ I say, leading her through into the bedroom first. I see her notice the drawings on the wall, from book one. She advances over to them.

‘What’s this?’ she asks, looking at the picture of the castle, minus the queen.

‘Adam’s story,’ I say. ‘We wrote it together, at school.’

She nods.

‘Why’s the queen crossed out?’ she asks.

I shrug. I still don’t know.

She continues to walk around the room. The bed is only roughly made. The duvet is further down one side of the bed than the other, and I see that my treasure box is exposed. I step round Nicole and make the bed up properly.

‘Satin,’ she says, about the duvet. ‘Very nice.’

‘Perhaps you can sample it later,’ I say, then regret it. Too much, too soon.

Nicole raises an eyebrow at me.

‘If you want to lie down, while you’re waiting for Adam to come,’ I say.

She smirks. ‘Been there, done that.’ She pats her stomach.

Even as I internally grimace, I nod. I know. That’s why I want her here now. It would make things easier if I didn’t have to do a book three on her, but we’ll see how it plays out. The key thing is, that we get inside, Luke and I. Where Adam has been.

I show her the bathroom.

‘Oh, en suite, very nice,’ she says.

‘Yes, like yours,’ I say. Even though there is less marble and more mould. Adam’s had a bit of mould in it, once, when it was all white, but he had it redone after Helen, when it began to gleam. A pick-me-up, I suppose.

I lead her through to the kitchen-diner-living room.

‘The grand finale,’ I say.

Nicole flicks on the lights as we enter the room, showing there is nothing grand.

‘It’s sweet,’ she appraises it, looking round her.

‘Make yourself at home,’ I offer. ‘Sit on the sofa.’ The sofa, at least, is looking presentable. The throw is clean again after the drawing-pin incident. It looks almost white, the red gone. Nicole perches on the edge of it.

‘Can I get you a drink?’ I ask.

‘Do you have any juice? Pomegranate, cranberry, maybe?’

In the fridge is some fresh orange juice. Or rather, I bought it recently, from concentrate. I pour her a glass. She takes a sip, grimaces, then puts it down on the floor.

‘So, when are we eating?’ she asks.

I can take a hint. First, though, we need candles and music. The two long, white candles, in their little gold (paint) holder are still on the Adam altar. Nicole probably thinks it is just a dining table, doesn’t understand its significance. I run my hand over the tablecloth, smoothing it down, plumping up the fabric that cascades over the edges and billows round the floor. Then I light the candles.

‘How romantic,’ says Nicole. There, I knew it – candles help. The light flickers against her face, like it did on Ally’s. When she was dead, not sleeping, as it turned out.

‘I’m feeling romantic,’ I say.

‘That’s because you’re wearing one of Adam’s shirts,’ she says.

It’s true, I am. Adam very considerately gave me one of his shirts for the taxi ride over here. I did not really want one – I wanted Nicole to be tempted by my flesh, the little ridges of muscle that men and women both get so excited over.

But why does Nicole think that would make me feel romantic? Has Adam been showing her book two? If so, I have no chance with her, do I? I will make my chance. Take it, if necessary. I must press on, show her how I can win a woman.

‘Only because Adam said the driver might have refused to take me, otherwise,’ I replied. ‘And then I wouldn’t be able to spend time alone with you.’

That would not have done – a fastidious taxi driver ruining my plans. Adam had made the same argument about the sabre, suggesting I ought to leave it with him, to deliver later. That did not seem as wise. Much better to take it with me, after what I’d seen.

And she’s wrong about the shirt making me feel romantic. True, this is cloth that has embraced Adam’s skin. True, its collar has caressed all those little hairs on the back of his neck. Also true, if I were him, I would be naked underneath it. But it’s so frustrating, too, this shirt. Because it’s only outside him. Which is not what I want. Nor is it what Luke needs. I must push on with the plan.

I start to undo the top buttons of the shirt, maintaining eye contact with Nicole. That’s what Ally had done, when her dress had come off. It is verified by research. I am just getting to the fourth button when Nicole stands up abruptly.

‘I’m going to use the bathroom,’ she says.

This is a good sign. Women, I’ve read, like to go to the bathroom before sex. Maybe to urinate, maybe to freshen up. Who knows, or cares? It is the message that’s important. ‘I will soon be ready for sex.’ In fact, I suspect Nicole would like me to join her, in a bit, in the bedroom that abuts the bathroom. I will wait for her call, once she has freshened up. We still have hours. And all is waiting in there: handcuffs, scarves, tape. Whatever it takes.

While I wait, I put Classic FM on the radio. DS Pearce would be proud. I turn it up loud, so she will get the full benefit of the smooth seductive flute melody. It would have been better if it was violins. But I can serenade her again, later, if necessary.

I take out the knife from the block. The smaller ones are being washed, so the big one will have to do. It’s not quite as big as the sabre, but it’s sharper. I untie some carrots from their binding, and chop off their heads. Then I peel and dice them, taking care not to chop myself in the process. Then I boil up the water. It is easier to keep carrots under control than a lobster, I suppose, but not quite as fun. Nor as ‘romantic’.

I turn on the grill, and assemble the fish fingers. They do not look very appetising. The golden crumbs are orange, the ‘fingers’ more like bricks. But I must give Nicole something, to sustain her energy. Or at least, recover mine.

I watch as the flames on the grill and the hob splutter and hiss into blue and orange existence. Still no word from Nicole. I watch as the carrots lose their resistance to the heat, and soften in the water. The orange fish fingers begin to turn brown, and little bits of their coating fall away. Still no word from Nicole. Finally, I plate up our food, and carry it to the table. Nicole is still silent. She has a lot of freshening up to do. But that can wait. Now she must eat.

‘Nicole!’ I call. ‘Dinner is served!’

I undo a few more buttons on my shirt while I’m waiting.

‘Nicole!’ I call again.

I walk to the bedroom and am about to open the door, when Nicole opens it from the other side.