Too Close For Comfort (11 page)

“It's wasted
time, Michael. And we don't have any time to waste!”

“Surely
Culverhouse has got an idea up his sleeve? He's always so cock-sure
he knows exactly what he's doing.”

“All we have at
the moment is the witness.”

“Witness?”

“Yeah. The guy
who found Barbara North's body reckons he saw a man running away
from the scene.”

“Did he get a
good description?”

“No, he just
saw him in shadow. Couldn't even tell us his height or what he was
wearing, but we're working on him. Hopefully we'll be able to get
some sort of vague description and work from that.”

“Was there any
CCTV?”

“Usual story.
It was facing the other way.”

“And what about
the knife in Robert's drawer? How was that explained?”

“I don't know.
He reckons he doesn't know of anyone who'd have a grudge against
him. He reckons he's going to go to a hypnotist to try and access
his 'innermost thoughts' and come up with some names for us to
pursue.”

“Wow. Bit of a
stab in the dark, then.”

“This is no
time for puns, Michael.”

“I'm sorry; I
didn't mean it. I didn't even realise until after I'd said it.
Listen: I'll run you a nice hot bath with that lavender oil, OK? I
want you to spend the evening in there relaxing and forgetting all
about this case until the morning. You're not going to get anywhere
without a clear head. Alright?”

“Alright. And
Michael?”

“Mmmm?”

“Thank you.
Thank you for being there.”

“You were there
for me too, Wend. Just paying back the favour.”

Little more
than an hour later, the lilting scent of lavender wafted through
the air as Wendy sunk her shoulders back into the warm water. She
let out an almighty sigh from a breath she didn't even remember
taking in and tried to think just how long she had been holding on
to this tension. Michael was right – she'd relax and de-stress as
much as she could and go back to work tomorrow with a clear head;
the clear head which was needed if she was going to finally make
tracks and stop the killer ending more innocent lives.

As she began to
drift off to sleep, she was woken by the ringing of her mobile
phone.

“God, damn it!”
Fumbling her hand along the bathmat, she finally found it and slid
her finger across the screen to activate the call.

“Robert? What
is it? I'm in the bath.”

“I... I need to
see you, Wendy.”

“What's up,
Robert? You sound edgy.”

“Wendy, will
you come over, please?”

“Robert, it's
quarter-to-eleven. Can't we talk on the phone?”

“I need your
help, Wendy. It's important. Please... please just come.”

Wendy heard
Robert's voice trail off into a desperate sob.

“Yes, OK. I'll
be right over. Just wait for me.”

With that,
Wendy hauled herself out of the bath, regained her exhaled tension
and dried herself off before throwing on some clothes.

“Got to nip
out, Michael. Back soon!” Darting down the stairs, she threw on her
shoes, grabbed her car keys and jogged to her car as she felt her
wet hair soak through the back of her blouse top.

Less than two
minutes into her journey, her phone rang again. Without thinking,
she answered the call.

“Robert?”

“Almost. It's
me.”

“Oh, guv.
What's up? I can't talk – I've got to be somewhere.”

“At this time
of night?”

“It's a long
story; and even I don't know what it is. Ludford's asked me to come
over. He sounded panicked.”

“Are you sure
that's wise?”

“No, but I need
to do it.”

“Right, well I
think I should come with you.”

“Honestly guv,
there's no need. I'll call you if anything happens.”

“Well I hope
you're not going to be late or hung-over tomorrow. I'll catch up
with you in the morning.”

Wendy hung up
the phone and continued the seemingly endless drive to Robert
Ludford's house.

The house was
eerily silent as Wendy's car coasted into the driveway. There were
no lights on; no signs of life.

She switched
off her car engine and made her way towards the building before
reaching the front door. She made to ring the doorbell but
something made her change her mind: female instinct, if you will.
She tried the doorknob: the door opened. Inside, the lights all
seemed to be switched off.

“Robert?
Robert, it's me – Wendy.” She fumbled in the darkness as she made
her way through the hallway and into the kitchen. She almost
stumbled as she kicked something left carelessly in the middle of
the floor. Cursing to herself, she made her way to the living room.
As she entered the room, she felt the presence of another person –
Robert must be in here
. As she switched on the light, she
saw exactly who it was.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR

Wendy stood,
surprised but unsure what to make of the situation.

“Michael? What
are you doing here? Where's Robert? He called me a few minutes ago.
He sounded panicked. I don't know what's going on, Michael.”

“Oh, there's a
lot you don't know, Wend. I'm afraid Robert can't be here right
now, so you'll have to make do with me.”

“What's going
on, Michael?”

“Oh, come on,
Wend! Surely you must have worked it out by now! You and the great
Magnifico down there! But, just in case you haven't...”

The force of
Michael's fist jarred Wendy's head back, smashing the glass pane of
the photograph which hung on the wall behind her.

As far as she
was concerned, she had only blinked and suddenly she found herself
sat in Ludford's kitchen, her hands and legs tied to a wooden
chair.

“Nice of you to
rejoin us, Wend. As I was saying... Just in case you haven't worked
it out yet, I've brought along a few clues. Buzz in when you think
you know the answer! I give you, DS Knight, exhibit one!” With a
flourish, Michael pulled a pair of gloves from the inside of his
jacket pocket. “A little bit bloodstained, I grant you, but an
excellent clue nonetheless. Still no closer to the answer? Let's
try exhibit two!” With the grace of a game-show host and the
subtlety of a brick, Michael pulled a length of rope from the other
jacket pocket. “Now, the eagle-eyed amongst you will have noticed
that this is the same rope that you are tied to that chair with.
Not only that, but it's tied with a couple of very handy bowline
knots. The same rope, too, that was involved with one or two
murders which I believe you have been investigating. Is any of this
starting to ring a bell, Wend?”

Wendy nodded,
cautiously, trying to judge Michael's next move. She felt strangely
calm.

“Now, I would
have had an exhibit three but unfortunately someone seems to have a
certain bloodstained knife in their custody down at the police
station. Never mind – I'll move straight on to this week's star
prize!”

Wendy dared not
avert her gaze from straight-ahead as Michael walked behind her
chair and fumbled around on the floor before making his way back to
his original vantage point in front of the door.

“Recognise
this
, Wend?”

Wendy screamed
at the top of her lungs, the masking tape cutting into the sides of
her mouth as her body rocked and convulsed at the gruesome sight of
Robert Ludford's dismembered head swinging before her. Michael let
rip with an almost falsely maniacal laugh as Robert's death mask
dangled just inches in front of her face, suspended only by
Michael's grip on its hair. The glassy eyes stared through her as
the look of terror burnt itself on Wendy's vision.

“Say hello to
your sweetheart!” Michael, his menacing grin turning into a vicious
scowl, jumped forward and pushed his face and Ludford's death mask
in front of Wendy. “Do you want to fuck him now? Do you? I bet you
do, you little slut! I bet you'd still fuck him even now! You're
nothing but a cheap whore! The
ultimate
cheap whore!”
Michael released his grip on the red, sticky hair and the
bludgeoned head dropped to the floor with a sickening thud. A
strange thought went through Wendy's mind:
Ouch! That'll
bruise!

“I bet you'd
still suck his cock too, wouldn't you Wend?”

Wendy shook her
head nervously, tears and sweat running down her face.

“Let's not be
coy, Wendy! Suck his cock!” With this, Michael ripped the masking
tape from Wendy's face and forced Ludford's warm, blood-soaked,
dismembered penis between Wendy's teeth. “
Suck it, you bitch!
Suck it, you slut!”

Wendy sobbed
tears of terror; tears of desperation as she spat the blood-soaked
tissue from her mouth.

“That's all you
are, isn't it? Just another little slut. The ultimate slut, in
fact! Oh yes, you're worse than the rest. You're ten times filthier
than Barbara North and a thousand times filthier than Ella
Barrington. Top-class prostitute, they called her! Fucking clueless
piece of shit, more like. Now, that Barbara – she was a bit of a
goer for an old bird. Filthy as you like! Had her on a
recommendation, as it happens. I've a feeling, though, that my
favourite is going to be you, Wendy. Oh yes – you're the next and
final one. It's you and then it's me. The world will be rid of all
its filth and all its sluts and I will die a hero; a martyr to the
cause! Do you remember the boyfriends you used to bring home from
school, Wend? Hell, I do. I remember every single one; I remember
their names; I remember the dates. I remember the
bang-bang-banging
against the wall; the screams and moans
coming from your filthy, slutty little gob and I prayed from that
moment that every horrible little slag on this planet should pay
the price. If they want other men to use them as objects of play
and gratification, why not me? Why can I not do as I please? Well,
I think you'll find I have! And now I'm going to die a happy man,
Wend. I'm going to die a happy man, being the last person ever to
fuck your filthy, slutty little body. Seeing as you're my sister,
though, I'll treat you with a little extra respect. I'll wipe my
dick for you.”

Laughing like a
crazed maniac, Michael slung open the kitchen door, and waltzed up
the stairs. A thousand thoughts flew round Wendy's mind but she was
unable to see any of them for the one which pervaded all:
she
was going to die
.

As he
re-entered the room a few minutes later, Wendy's hysterical fits of
sobbing had ceased and Michael's face seemed much calmer; resigned
to what he would have to do. It was almost as though the
post-interval curtain had just lifted on a whole new act of the
play. The dismembered member was now laying at a jaunty angle at
the foot of the kitchen cabinet to Wendy's right. She felt that
overwhelming doughnut-sugar urge to lick the blood from her lips
and mouth but decided against it. She spoke just two words.

“Why,
Michael?”

“Why?
Why?
Ho ho! That's a good one, Wend!” Deranged Michael was
back. “Who knows? Who truly knows? I may have my reasons, but does
that mean I truly know? Maybe it was the long, drawn-out hell of a
childhood that I put squarely on your shoulders.”

“I didn't bring
you up, Michael.”

“No, you
didn't, but you're the reason no-one else did. Mum and dad doted on
you. Why was it always you who was destined to go far? Why was it
you that dad had earmarked for the police force and me for your
first nick? Speaking of which, maybe it was the fact that my own
sister had me banged up!”

“I didn't have
you banged up, Michael. I tried to help you kick your... your
problem. All I did was try to help.”

“That's all you
ever do, isn't it, Wend?
Try
. You don't know what trying is!
My whole life I've spent trying to come to terms with the fact that
no matter how hard I tried, no matter how hard I worked, I would
always be nothing. Do you have any idea what that's like? Being
tied back with an enormous elastic band? When no matter how hard
you pull away, it recoils and pulls you back twice as hard?”

“That's no
justification for killing those girls, Michael.” Wendy's voice
sounded strangely calm, if a little grave.

“I don't
need
justification, Wendy. I have a—
thousand
— and
one things going through my head right now, whizzing around inside.
Do you have any idea?
Do you?
” Michael's frantic, throbbing
temples were inches from Wendy's face now. “No. You have no idea. I
grew to resent every small piece of happiness you felt. You made me
do that, Wend. You pushed me to it. I never had parents. Alright,
so I lived in the same house as two people who fucked and gave
birth to me, but I never had parents. I had to bring myself up, a
child, knowing my slut whore sister was getting everything she
wanted.”

“It wasn't like
that, Michael! I don't know what is giving you these ideas but it's
all totally wrong. You have some problems, Michael.”

“I have plenty
of fucking problems, Wend! Six of them, to be precise! And I'm
about to make it seven.”

“Michael, I...”
Wendy's voice trailed off as she watched Michael slowly remove a
length of rope from his pocket. It was tied in a bowline knot.

“Y'know, I gave
the others all a chance to say goodbye. Only if they were good,
like. That Nicole Bryant tried screaming instead and she got what
she asked for. The others all played it very nicely and pleaded for
their lives. Do you have any idea how powerful that makes me feel?
I've never felt powerful before, Wend.”

“Michael...”

“Do you have
any last words? Better make them good...”

Wendy paused
and shook her head as a tear rolled from her eye. Through the salty
kaleidoscope she could just make out Michael's face. It was
smiling. As her body and mind fell short of any thought or feeling
for the first time in her life, she realised it would also be the
only time. No thoughts crossed her mind; no feeling flowed through
her veins. Only the gentle rasp of the rope that passed around her
neck and tightened; tightened.