Their captive changed tactic. He pulled back the curtains, and started to bang loudly on the window with his free fist.
“I’ll go and fill the syringe. You try and keep him away from the window as much as you can. We can’t have a naked man frightening the neighbours like that.”
“Why isn’t he saying anything?” Kate asked, as she approached him with trepidation.
“He’s mute. Can’t speak at all. Kind of made chatting him up a bit difficult, but he couldn’t resist these babies.” She shook her flabby bosoms in Kate’s direction. “I don’t even know his name. He tried to sign it, but I’m fucked if I understood what he was doing. Go on then, jump him. I’ll only be a minute or two.”
Angie left the room. Kate skirted the wheel chair, and grabbed the man by one wrist, attempting ineffectually to pull him away from the window. She didn’t have Angie’s strength. He lashed out at her, sending her sprawling back on to the bed.
“Angie, quick!” she shouted. “I can’t do this on my own.”
She got back to her feet. She shuffled round on top of the bed, skirting round to the side upon which he was handcuffed, waiting for a chance to seize his arm without him hitting her again. Her mobile rang again. She ignored it. Mike could wait.
The man caught sight of someone outside. He redoubled his efforts, pounding on the window-pane, and pointing down to his handcuffed wrist which was just below the level of the window-sill.
Kate glanced out the window to see what he had seen. Two things, both equally frightening. For there on the pavement, directly outside Angie’s house, stood two police-officers looking up at the window. And on the far side of the road, standing by his van, mobile phone held to his ear, was Mike.
#
PC Parker (“Nosey” to his highly unoriginal colleagues) would probably have driven by on a busier night, but the worst he had had to contend with so far this shift was a “drunk and disorderly” in Harbour Street (couldn’t have been much of a drinker to be in that state this early on!) and a couple having a shag in the alleyway that led up towards the synagogue. Another ten yards further up, they would have got away with it (as there were no lights up there and no-one would have seen what they were up to, yet alone complained about it). He’d even mentioned this to them in jest. But the girl had told him that she was afraid of the dark, and had insisted upon doing it with her boyfriend within sight of the street-light, or not at all. By the look of him, he wouldn’t have complained if she’d have wanted to shag him in the middle of the road.
He liked to think of himself as a man of the world, but if everyone went around shagging in public, then it wouldn’t be safe to take the kids outdoors after dark. You had to draw the line somewhere. Still, she was a nice-looking girl. A shame to nick her, really. So he’d given her boyfriend a really strong bollocking, and given her a friendly wink as he walked back towards the police-car. Job done. Community policing, you could say.
But then, just a few minutes later, he had seen this man hanging around by the side of the road round the corner, looking up at the house opposite, as if “casing the joint” (as they say in films). He was talking to someone on his mobile. He looked upset. On a hunch, Parker pulled over.
“What’s up?” asked his colleague, WPC Dyson (“Hoover” to her colleagues, who didn’t seem to know or didn’t care that Dyson and Hoover were two totally different brand names). She would have kept driving if she was behind the wheel. She was all for getting through each shift with as little paperwork as possible. Good job, really, otherwise he would have had to nick the couple in the alleyway, no question about it. He got on well with her, though. A bit too well, a couple of years ago, but all that nonsense was well behind them now. Especially since she got engaged to that scruffy git in CID.
“I just want to check this bloke out. He’s looking a bit shifty.”
She sighed. “I’ll stay in the car.”
He parked up and approached the man on the pavement. The man spotted him, and thrust his mobile into his trouser pockets, as if hiding evidence. He wiped his hand against the side of his face. Had he been crying? That was usually a sign that something was going on. A domestic, as often as not. They could get quite nasty, sometimes.
“Good evening, Sir,” Parker said.
“Good evening, Officer.”
“Is there anything I can help you with?”
“No. No. Everything’s fine.”
“Would you care to tell me why you’re standing outside that house over there? In some distress, if I might say. Is everything okay?”
“She’s left me.”
“Sorry?”
“My girlfriend. Kate. She’s left me. We were in the pub, and she started chatting up some bald bloke. And now she won’t answer the door. I’ve tried phoning her, but -”
“Women, eh?” nodded Parker knowledgeably. “You can’t live with them, you can’t bury them under the patio. It sounds to me as if now might not be the best time for you to talk to this lady friend of yours. You’re in a bit of a state. You might say things you don’t really mean. Best if you go home, and talk to her in the morning.”
“I need to talk to her now,” Mike insisted. “Tell her what she means to me.”
“Have you known her long?”
“We’ve only been out a couple of times.”
“Maybe you’re better off without her, Son. Two dates, and she’s picking up other men already. That’s not really the ideal start to a relationship, if you don’t mind me saying.”
“No. I like her. I really like her. She needs looking after, that’s all.”
“Not tonight, though, Sir. Talk to her tomorrow. She’ll still be there, no doubt. Plenty of time. Things will look different after a good night’s sleep.”
“What if she’s got that bloke in there? What if that’s why she doesn’t want to talk to me?”
WPC Dyson joined him. “Problem, Dave?”
“This young gentleman has had an argument with his lady-friend. He’s a little upset. May have had a drink or two, I think. I was just telling him to go home, and sort it out in the morning.”
“You’re not stalking her, are you?” asked WPC Dyson. “You do know that’s a criminal offence?”
“No. I wouldn’t do that. I just want to talk to her. I love her.”
“Well you’d better get back in your van, and go home. You can tell her all about it tomorrow.”
Mike got his mobile out, and dialled a number. Parker and Dyson exchanged looks. “He’s not listening, is he?” Dyson said.
Mike swore, and put his phone away. “She hung up on me!”
Parker was starting to lose patience. The bloke was obviously upset, but he’d just told him to leave, and he was being ignored. You can’t have that. People had no respect for the police nowadays.
“Okay, we’ve asked you nicely. I want you to get back in your van, and go home. Now. Or I’m going to have to nick you. What’s it to be?”
He gave the man his sternest stare, and waited for him to wilt. WPC Dyson nudged him. He looked at her, slightly irritated that his stern stare had been interrupted. She pointed up at the window of the house next-door to the one the man had been watching. The bedroom curtains had been opened. There was a man standing at the window, banging on the glass, naked from the hips up (and presumably from the hips down as well, though fortunately only the top half of his body was visible).
“There’s a naked man up there,” Dyson advised him, a little unnecessarily.
Parker nodded. Was that an offence? Probably not. As long as he kept his tackle out of sight, he could do what he liked in his own bedroom.
A woman appeared at the window, trying to pull him away. Quite right, too. The exhibitionist pushed her away. He heard WPC Dyson sigh again. She hated having to deal with “domestics”. They took ages, and nine times out of ten the women didn’t want to prosecute afterwards.
“Kate!” the-man-on-the-pavement shouted. “That’s Kate!”
“Your girlfriend?”
“Yes!”
“And that’s the man in the pub you were talking about?”
“No. That’s a different one. He’s got hair.”
“She gets around a bit, your girlfriend.”
Kate appeared behind the man, higher up than him, presumably standing on the bed. She started circling round him, like a wrestler waiting for a chance to pounce on a disorientated opponent. All the while, the man kept banging on the window as if his life depended upon it.
“Kate!” shouted the-man-on-the-pavement to his errant beloved.
The man in the window started pointing downwards at something just below the window-sill. He wore an imploring expression (but nothing else). He said nothing.
“What’s he doing now?” Parker pondered aloud.
“I think he’s pointing at his knob,” Dyson replied with a weary shake of the head.
The woman in the bedroom suddenly spotted them. She froze on the bed (or whatever it was she was standing upon). She gave them (or the love-lorn man on the pavement?) a guilty-looking wave. The guy in front of her pointed furiously down at his knob again.
“Kate!” shouted Pavement Man.
“Okay,” Dyson sighed so loudly it sounded as if she might expire. “Let’s get this over with.”
Together, they approached the house.
It was going to be an eventful night after all.
#
Everything was happening too quickly. Kate had barely had a chance to come to terms with the bodies in the woods, the bodies in her armchair, the acrimonious break-up with Mike. But tonight was something else. Trevor, lying dead in the cellar. Angie bringing her own victim back home, without even telling her what she was doing. And now, a fully conscious man banging on the bedroom window with the Police outside. And Mike, too.
She needed time, time to think of something plausible to tell the police officers heading for the front door. She wracked her brains, trying to ignore the hammering on the window. Nothing. What could she possibly say or do to get her out of a situation like this? They would arrest her, and put her on trial, and the whole world would know what she was. She would be the most hated woman in the country after what she’d done.
If only she could get out of this. She’d reform. No matter how bad the Craving, she would ignore it. She raised her eyes to Heaven. Give me one more chance, she thought. I won’t do it again if you save me. Just this once.
There was a knock on the door downstairs. They’d come for her. Maybe she should let herself out the back. Run away, hide somewhere. But it was useless. She had no money. She had nowhere to go. And when the sun came up, she’d be toast.
“Angie! She screamed in desperation. “It’s the Police!”
No reply. Angie was still busy filling her syringe downstairs.
The man at the window turned round. She saw relief in his eyes. Wariness, but relief. He knew he’d been saved. He was saved, and she was damned. Mind you, she’d been damned for a very long time.
Another knock at the door. They were waiting for her.
“Let’s get this over with,” she whispered. She went to the bedroom door. She looked back at Angie’s mute victim (Angie’s victim, not hers; this would never have happened if he had been hers). “I’m sorry,” she told him. “I really am. It’s not my fault.”
He stared back at her, but said nothing. Not really surprising in the circumstances.
She descended the stairs to the front-door, one fatalistic step at a time. Still no sign of Angie. If she had done a runner, leaving her to face the music, then she would give her up. There was no way she was taking all the responsibility for this on her own. Besides, the man up there would tell them what had happened. Or write it down, at least.
She opened the door to the Police. As she did so, Angie emerged from the kitchen. She turned to look at her. She was still in her Primark bra and pants. She was holding something behind her back. Surely not the syringe, not with the police officers here to arrest them? What was she thinking? It was too late to inject anyone now. It would just make things worse.
“Angie, no,” she cautioned. “We have guests.”
Angie ignored her, heading up the stairs, moving the syringe as she did so, so it remained shielded by her body. Kate felt the urge to squeeze past the two police officers and dash off into the night, but it was no use. They’d catch her before she made it to the far side of the road. Besides, Mike was standing behind them. She didn’t want him to see her being manhandled to the ground.
“Good evening, Madam,” said the male officer, far more politely than she had anticipated. “Were you aware that there is a naked man exposing himself from your bedroom window?”
“It’s not my bedroom. It’s Angie’s. My friend. I’m just visiting.”
“Kate, how could you?” asked Mike. He was subdued, as if all the fight had been knocked out of him.
“I’m sorry, Mike. I’m so sorry.” She was tired of apologising to everyone. But if anyone deserved an apology, it was him. She hoped he wouldn’t hate her too much when he found out what she was.
“I’m not really worried whose bedroom it is,” the officer persisted. “I’m more worried by the fact that the gentleman appears to be pointing out his penis to passers-by.”
“Bit of a tongue-twister, Dave,” said the WPC, but he ignored her. He was clearly expecting some sort of explanation. But Kate just shrugged, not knowing what else to do.
There was a crash upstairs, accompanied by a string of violent curses. “Come back, you little bastard,” Angie was shouting. “We’re not done yet.”
The naked man appeared at the top of the stairs, one wrist still in handcuffs. The police officers watched in astonishment as he rushed down the stairs towards them. He launched himself at the male officer, hugging him. He had found sanctuary, and he was not going to let him go until the two women were safely locked away inside a police van.
“Kate, how could you?” Mike asked. He was getting annoying. Couldn’t he just get back in his van, and leave them to it?
The police officer prised the naked man off him, just as Angie pounded down the stairs in pursuit. For some inexplicable reason, she had removed her bra. He heavy breasts slapped up and down each step she took. The only consolation, Kate thought, was that she had had the sense to ditch the syringe before putting in an appearance.
“Get off me,” the male officer warned their mute victim, as he tried to hug him again. “Do you mind putting your pants on, and telling me what’s going on here?”
The man started signing at speed. The two officers exchanged looks. The police-woman shrugged. “Buggered if I know.”
Angie intervened. “I’m sorry about this, officers. It’s rather embarrassing. We were having an orgy.” She jiggled her bosoms to illustrate the point. The police-man didn’t look impressed by this. Indeed, he seemed to shudder a little.
“He doesn’t look as if he was enjoying it very much, if you don’t mind me saying.”
“Oh, he enjoyed it alright. He’s just pretending to be upset. That’s the thing about S & M role-play; you have to grimace a lot. If he was beaming, it would look all wrong. Look, see how he’s cuddling you. He wants you to join in. He gets lonely when he’s the only gonzo.”
“Me? Join in! I don’t think so!”
“He’s always like this. The moment Kate’s ready to get naked, he gets all excited and he runs off to find someone else to join us. That’s why he was waving at you from the window. Dirty little bugger loves a bit of male company. He swings both ways, you see.”
Kate watched as Mike’s face hardened. “Now it all makes sense. No wonder you didn’t want to handcuff me to the bed the other night. You couldn’t trust yourself.”
“That’s exactly what it would have been,” Angie confirmed. “She’s a dominatrix. She’d whip you soon as look at you. You’ve had a lucky escape there.”
The naked man made a break for it. He’d given up on the police officers coming to his rescue. They seemed to be falling for all this bollocks the chubby woman was coming up with. For a second, he thought he was free. He caught the police-men by surprise, and the depressed-looking bloke behind them leapt out of his way as if he was a leper. But the fat woman had stuck a needle in him upstairs, just before he’d wrenched the radiator-pipe off the wall. As he started running, the world skidded across his field of vision, and he had to cling on to the gate-post to keep himself upright. The police-officers caught up with him, and started to pull him back towards the house.
He opened his mouth to scream, but nothing but air came out. He struggled frantically, but inch by inch, they were dragging him back towards his death. The world swam some more. He couldn’t stay awake much longer. But he had to. He had to. He couldn’t go back in there. They were going to hurt him, mutilate him, kill him. And the police were helping them.
Kate watched as the two police-officers wrestled the poor man back inside. She almost wished he had escaped. The game was up. Why have another victim on her conscience now?
She glanced at Mike. He was looking so cold, so contemptuous. Why wouldn’t he? She deserved every bit of it, and more. She was a monster. What would he think when he found that she was so much worse even than the dominatrix he supposed her to be?
The naked man made one last desperate bid for freedom. He lashed out at the police-man, and staggered a few steps back along the path to the front-gate. And then his legs buckled out from under him, and he was face-down on the concrete, his eyes glazed over. The police-officers grabbed an ankle each, and hauled him indoors, all patience with him lost. She winced. Being dragged along a rough concrete pathway, and over the lip of the doorway, testicles-down, would have been agonising if he’d been conscious. Worryingly, she felt just a little bit aroused by this at the same time.
“Okay, I’m nicking the lot of you,” said the male officer.
Salvation came from an unexpected quarter.
“Do you think that’s wise, Dave?” his colleague asked.
“Yes, WPC Dyson, I do!”
“We’ve just knocked him unconscious, and hauled him down the pathway on his bollocks. I think that might look pretty bad if we take him in.”
“He was resisting arrest.”
“All the same. Look at his bollocks. See if they’re okay.”
“You look at his bollocks!” the male officer exploded. “I’m not going anywhere near them. It’s bad enough him pressing them against my uniform, but I’m buggered if I’m going to examine them afterwards!”
She turned him over, and gave his testicles careful scrutiny. “Look. They’re badly scuffed. What’s the police surgeon going to make of that? There’s going to be a complaint. We could get suspended for this. And think what the others would say, down at the station. We’d be a laughing stock. There could be new nicknames in this for us both. “Hoover” is bad enough, but I’m not going to spend the rest of my career as “Bollock-Scuffer” for anyone.”
The two officers stepped outside, and started arguing in whispers. There was the sound of a van starting up. Mike was going. It was for the best, Kate thought. One less thing to worry about.
“Don’t worry about his damaged testicles,” Angie called out to the police constables. “He would probably have quite enjoyed it, if he’d been awake. And he never wanted children anyway”
Kate nudged her hard in the ribs. “You’re not helping. And would you please put your bra on? You’re making me feel ill.”
Angie’s face clouded over. She didn’t like it when Kate spoke up for herself. “Your chest is better than mine, is that it?”
“Hell, yes!” So what if she was antagonising Angie. She no longer had anything to lose.
The officers stopped talking. The WPC approached them, while her colleague stalked sullenly back to the police-car.
“We’ve decided not to arrest you on this occasion. It’s all been on private property, no-one else around, no-one likely to be caused alarm or distress. But if we ever see so much as a nipple sticking out of that bedroom window again, we’re going to nick the lot of you, no questions asked, however scuffed your bollocks might be. Understood?”
They both nodded.
“And put your bra back on, Ma’am,” she ordered Angie. “Now. Or I’m nicking you for possession of offensive tits.”
#
Kate left at the same time as the WPC. She didn’t want to speak with Angie, not after what she’d done to Trevor, yet alone be left in the house with her. The mute guy was Angie’s problem, not hers. She didn’t want his blood. She didn’t want anything to do with him.
For half an hour or so, she thought she was safe. But when she thought it through, she realised that it was only a matter of time before the police would be back for her. The mute guy would be reported missing. The officers would put two and two together. They had got a good look at him while he was trying to make his escape (in more ways than one!) Isn’t that the bloke trying to make a run for it from those two strange women, they’d say. And they ev