Chapter 5
The phone on Anderson’s desktop rang. The sound was in sharp contrast to the buzz of the phones outside. He preferred the old-fashioned sound that came from solid black phones that didn’t move when the handset was picked up. He answered the call.
‘I’ve had a letter’
There was no need to ask who it was. Clarissa’s voice was soft, clear, and melodious. ‘From whom?’
‘From Julian with a new story.’
Anderson heard the urgency in her voice; this was no ordinary letter. ‘What does the letter say?’
‘I’m scared. He threatens to kill me.’
‘Are you at home?’
‘Yes.’
‘Is your husband there?’
‘No, he’s at work.’
‘Stay where you are. I’ll be right over. ’
He took Comben. It took them less than five minutes to walk round to Clarissa’s house. The letter was in her hand when she opened the door. Comben put on a pair of rubber gloves before taking the single sheet of paper and placing into a bag. Then they all stood in the hall while Anderson and Comben read the note through the transparent plastic. The letter threatened to cut her throat and spread her intestines over her body.
Anderson put his arm around Clarissa’s waist and shepherded her into the sitting room. They sat on the settee together. He was turned towards her with his hand on her shoulder. He could feel that she was still trembling.
Comben was in a chair opposite them. ‘Shall I call your husband?’ he asked.
Clarissa shook her head.
Anderson ignored Comben’s interruption. ‘Does the story contain a description similar to the letter?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ she said, ’and I looked at Sugden’s book on Jack the Ripper: it was a description of how Annie Chapman was found. But there’s something else.’
Anderson waited.
‘The typescript of the second story has disappeared. I don’t know when but he must have been inside the house to get it.’
‘Let’s not worry too much about that now. The first thing is to keep you safe. I want you to stay somewhere away from here.’
‘Can’t you protect me here?’
‘It would be better if no one knew where you were.’
‘We’ll have to let Mr Turney know, sir,’ said Comben.
They both looked at the sergeant and then Clarissa turned back to Anderson. ‘No one,’ she said, ’you really mean no one.’
He nodded, ’no one,’ he confirmed. It was as though Comben had never spoken and there was no need to elaborate. They both knew that it was to apply to Mark Turney as well as everyone else. As they spoke, Anderson could feel Comben’s disapproving eyes burn into his neck. Was it his prejudice against the husband that made him take such drastic action? When he turned to face his sergeant, he could see in the man’s face that Comben certainly thought so.
There was nothing more to say and Anderson offered to drive her to the safe place. She accepted. The three of them walked back to the station. Comben carried a small suitcase she had packed before they left.
In the car, Clarissa waited until they were out of sight of the station before speaking.
‘Nice car,’ she said. ‘Is it your own?’
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘It’s very reliable.’
‘And that’s the reason you bought it.’
Anderson turned and smiled shyly. ‘I could have bought a cheaper one and I probably would now.’ He didn’t say why ’now’ was be different and Clarissa didn’t ask him.
Clarissa stretched her hand out, touched his shoulder, and then ran her fingers around his collar. One finger touched his neck. Anderson immediately felt a shiver spread over his neck that made him tense his shoulders. He wondered at her recovery. Had she been as frightened as she’d made out?
‘You still spend money on your clothes, though. This suit fits too well to be off the peg.’
‘Does that worry you?’ asked Anderson.
‘I wouldn’t’ve married Mark if it worried me. I like men who take an interest in their appearance.’
Anderson pulled up at the kerb outside a small parade of shops. He turned towards her. She showed no inclination to get out. ‘I’ll carry your case upstairs and see you settled,’ he said.
‘Will you have time for a coffee?’ she asked. ‘There will be coffee there won’t there?’
He smiled and got out. Upstairs she found a carton of real coffee in the fridge. ‘I expect you only drink real coffee,’ she said. ‘Was this your doing?’ she asked holding up the box.
‘I suppose it might have been but it’s probably quite old,’ Anderson said.
There had been a time when refusing instant coffee was regarded as a symptom of homosexuality or worse, as revealing an undue regard for food and drink. Anderson remembered suffering for it then but now real coffee was almost standard. She boiled the kettle and then used the cafetière that Anderson had also provided to make the coffee. He wondered just how long ago it had been since he had been on duty at the flat. The taste of the coffee told him that it had been some years.
‘I’ll get you some more of this,’ he said, holding up the coffee carton.
‘So you think I’m going to be here long enough to need it, do you?’
‘I can’t believe that it will be more than a few days and you won’t be entirely isolated,’ he said gesturing towards the phone. ‘Will you call your husband?’ he asked. ‘My sergeant seems to be worried about him.’
‘No,’ she said, ‘ and I don’t think it was him he was worried about.’
Anderson ignored the implication of her remark. ‘You don’t have to tell him where you are. You could just tell him you’re safe.’
‘You said I should tell no one, so that’s what I will do. I left him a note.’
‘So why won’t you phone him?’
‘It’s personal.’
Anderson took the hint. ‘And the letter? Does he know about that?’
‘He will do when he reads my own note.’
‘What did you write?’
‘I told him about the threat to kill me but that I’m in good hands, so not to worry about me.’
Anderson was pleased. ‘The writer,’ he said, ’our suspect. Were you very scathing about his last piece?’ he asked.
‘I can’t quite remember everything I wrote but it would disappoint him.’
‘It must have been for him to want to kill you. Maybe it will stop him from writing any more.’
‘Do you think that would stop the killings?’
‘Probably not,’ he said.
‘So how long do you think I should stay here?’
‘I don’t know but try to be patient. If there’s anything you want from home, I’ll arrange to fetch it.’
‘And will I be protected?’
‘I’ll have someone here twenty-four hours a day and a man outside as well.’
‘And who’s going to keep me company tonight?’
Anderson didn’t answer immediately but Clarissa’s gaze followed him around the room as he paced from one side to the other. The question made up his mind. He looked at her. ‘I am,’ he said.
‘Isn’t that an unusual sort of duty for a Detective Chief Inspector? What will your wife think?’
‘You’re a special person and I haven’t got a wife.’
A buzz from Anderson’s mobile stopped Clarissa from having to answer - if she had intended to. It was Comben: something had happened. He waited until a uniformed officer came and then he apologised and said he would be back.
He drove to Amanda’s new flat and met Comben outside, who told him the story of Julian’s intrusion. Inside Amanda was huddled in the comfort of Felicity’s arms. Anderson imagined that she probably had been there ever since Julian had left. From time to time, their bodies shook a little as though Amanda was shuddering at the memory of her ordeal but no real damage seemed to have been done. Was that because Felicity had interrupted him or had Julian really meant to do no harm?
He let Comben ask his questions and fill in the details while he inspected the couple. They stood very still as Comben spoke to them. It was as if their two intertwined figures were sculptured in marble but painted, as classical statues originally were. Anderson smiled: he was admiring them as though they were exhibits in an art gallery.
Then he noticed the angle of Comben’s head and his eyes were drawn downwards. Felicity’s short skirt made it difficult to do otherwise. She was not a woman to hide her best features with too much material.
The two women showed each other off to advantage: blonde and brunette, matched for height but with radically different eye colours and complexions. Amanda’s skin was very pale, the sort that burns within five minutes of exposure to the sun and there were just the odd sign or two of powder or foundation covering the remains of teenage spots on her cheek. She was wearing loose trousers with a top that would have hidden her waist, except that the light from behind her in the kitchen shone through the lacy material and exposed the curves underneath. Anderson thought she might be a natural blonde, just as Felicity’s olive complexion made her dark brown hair appear entirely natural. He hadn’t seen Felicity before but imagined that she would not appear so stunning alone.
Anderson turned away and walked to the window. He was too old for all of this. He needed a woman of an appropriate maturity these days.
He brought his mind back to the reason he was there - Julian. But there was something else: why this, why the new flat? Where had the money come from? Amanda had spent some hundreds on furnishing the living room, where they were, and he could see there had been recent improvements to the kitchen. Then there was the location: fifty or so yards down the road from where the first woman had been murdered. Was it a coincidence? And how did Julian know where she lived? Had he seen her by chance or was there some other explanation? He turned away from the window. ‘Why did you leave your old flat?’ he asked.
Comben stopped his writing and turned. Anderson could see he had irritated the man. He clearly didn’t like being interrupted.
‘We weren’t getting on,’ said Amanda looking at Felicity.
As if to reinforce the message, Felicity let her arm drop and Amanda straightened and moved a little away from her support.
It was possible. People can remain friends but not enjoy living together. But there was still the money. ‘I’m surprised you can afford this without sharing,’ Anderson said, looking around him.
‘I do work,’ Amanda answered.
Anderson raised his eyebrows.
‘I may be an out-of-work actor but I don’t scrounge on the state. I do promotions and in the summer I work with children on play schemes and I’m a film extra.’
Anderson ignored her explanation. ‘How do you think Julian found you?’ Anderson asked.
Amanda looked at the others and then shrugged her shoulders. ‘How am I supposed to know how that madman found me?’ It was clear that she thought Anderson a fool for asking her such an idiotic question.
Later, looking out of the bay window of Julian’s flat, Anderson had no need to wonder how the man had spotted Amanda. He looked over and through Amanda’s living room window and saw that Felicity was still there. He turned back to the room. The place hadn’t taken much finding. They had intended to start in that street and work outwards. Anderson had mobilised fifty officers and told the Commander it might take several days. There was disappointment all round when the expected over-time didn’t materialise.
A short search of the flat revealed some more typescripts of short stories but, more importantly, it showed that Julian hadn’t packed any clothes, so they waited awhile. A cup on the table half full of coffee, suggested he had rushed out. Anderson imagined he had seen Amanda for the first time and had run over to her.
After an hour, it was clear that he wouldn’t be back. There had been too many police in the street earlier for that. With hindsight, it would have been better not to have had the search but then he was not to know the man had been so close.
‘Have you spoken to the rest of the tenants?’ Anderson asked.
‘All but the woman across the hall,’ said Comben. ‘She’s out.’
‘What sort of woman is she?’ he asked.
‘The other tenants say she is a pensioner, very quiet,’ Comben answered.
When was the last time she was seen?’ Anderson asked.
Anderson could see a spark light up behind Comben’s eyes. The man said nothing but turned and went out of the flat. Anderson heard him knock on the door opposite and the one downstairs. When he came back, the spark had burst into flames.
‘Nobody has seen her for over a week,’ he said.
The sturdiness of the property was not reflected in the strength of the front doors put in during its conversion into flats. There was no need for any specialised equipment - Comben’s foot was enough. They had to go in but it wasn’t necessary. The smell and the bloodstains on the hall carpet made it clear enough. They had the body, now they knew where the second victim had died.
Anderson wondered to himself what had made him so lucky that week: both murder sites and the murderer’s home all found in the same street. The case had practically solved itself. They had bodies, they had fingerprints and they had Julian’s appointment card for the psychiatric wing of the local hospital. All they needed was the man himself and then they could close the file.
One small hurdle appeared once they got back to the station. There were no prints matching Julian’s on the threatening letter to Clarissa but there were on the short-story typescripts.
‘He was careful,’ said Comben.
‘He wasn’t careful with the typescripts,’ said Anderson.
‘They were different,’ said Comben.
‘Why?’ Anderson asked. Comben shrugged his shoulders.
Later Anderson went to the safe flat and relieved the officer on duty. The constable was surprised but happy to get home early; Anderson could see he had expected to stay all night. The flat had one bedroom and no other bed: the officer on duty was expected to stay awake throughout the night and Anderson was to be relieved at eight the next morning.
Anderson told Clarissa about Julian, then they talked until midnight before Clarissa went to her room. By that time, Anderson thought he knew enough about writing as he would ever need and he supposed Clarissa felt the same way about police work.
Before settling down, Anderson looked out of the window and checked that there was another man on duty outside. He was taking Clarissa Downing’s safety very seriously indeed.
He had one of her books with him and lay on the sofa to read it. The situation reminded him of his junior days, when such duties routinely came his way. He switched off the main light in the room and read by a reading lamp set on a table next to the settee. He noticed that the light he could see under Clarissa’s door stayed on for some minutes before she turned it off. Then an hour or so later it came on again and stayed on. He was not surprised that she had difficulty in sleeping.
At about three in the morning Clarissa came out of her room. She had on a pair of very modest satin pyjamas, buttoned up to the neck. Anderson made room with his feet and she sat at the opposite end of the settee. He could see she had no slippers on. ‘Your feet will get cold,’ he said and then he pulled her feet towards him and under his legs.
She nodded and they looked at each other for some seconds. Then she drew her legs back, knelt and leant her body towards him.
‘Will you hug me,’ she said. ‘I feel frightened.’
He stretched out his arms and she lowered herself on top of him. ‘There’s no need to be worried,’ he said. ‘We will protect you.’
‘But for how long,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to land up in the park cut into pieces once you’ve forgotten me.’
He put his arms around her and squeezed her to him. She rested her head on his shoulder and he could feel her breath on his neck. He moved his hands up and down her spine. Her whole weight was resting on him and he could feel her breasts flattened against his chest. He became excited and tried to move his legs to hide his stiffness but, as soon as he opened his legs, she slid her thigh between then and pressed against him.
‘You’re not happy with your husband, are you?’ he asked.
She lifted her head and smiled at him. ‘Is it that obvious?’ she said.
He said nothing but felt as gauche as a schoolboy: he was out of practice. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I meant something different.’
She held herself away from him for a few moments. ‘If you think this is because I’m simply randy, I’ll leave you alone.’
‘I hope it isn’t,’ he said.
‘Mark is a good lover even when his heart isn’t in it. I married a professional. I’m not “gasping” for it’
‘I’m no professional,’ he said and then pulled her towards him and kissed her on the mouth.
She pulled away from him. ‘If we’re found out, will you get into trouble?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ he answered but again kissed her hard on the mouth. This time she pressed back and they took their time before drawing apart.
‘I’d feel a lot safer if you were with me in my room,’ she said. ‘Isn’t making me feel secure one of your duties?’
She got off him and walked into her bedroom. He left the lamp on and followed her. She unbuttoned her top and took it off while facing away from him. Then she slipped out of her pyjama trousers and turned towards him. Anderson could sense her need for appreciation. He came forward to her and leant down to kiss her breasts.
‘You’ve a fine figure,’ he said.
‘So have you,’ she answered. ‘Do you exercise?’
‘Do you?’ he asked.
She watched him strip. He did look as though he exercised. She wondered whether the police force required their older officers to keep fit. He looked a little embarrassed under her gaze but, since she had stood naked in front of him first, she felt she had a right to look. She could see he was proud of his body, as she was of hers. She imagined that he, like herself, thought he looked younger than he was.
Once he had stripped and stood naked in front of her, she moved towards him and looked pointedly at his erect penis. Then she grasped it with her hand and felt a shiver in herself that echoed itself in his body and face. She leant forward until the tips of her nipples just touched his chest and then kissed him on the neck. Her head rested comfortably under his chin and she had to tilt her head to kiss him.
They stood opposite each other and moved their hands over the other’s body. Clarissa’s nipples remained just touching his chest, while his penis gently moved against her mound. At first, Clarissa thought he was self-conscious of their nakedness but she could see him relax after a few minutes of caressing her side and then her buttocks and breasts. She kept her hands on his chest and massaged him up to his shoulders while he explored her.
Then he put two fingers into her mouth and she sucked them. His penis pushed harder against her and she parted her legs and held it down so that it was underneath her and rested between her labia. He moved against her and as she became more excited his penis slid comfortably along her now moist labia. She grasped hold of it and moved its exposed head around the entrance to her vagina.
He broke away from her and turned towards his jacket. She had wondered whether he had come prepared or was he one of those men who always carried condoms - just in case.
When he turned back, they closed again and then, giving way to his pressure, he was suddenly inside her. Then they stood very still, pressed against each other. He ran his fingers along her lips and then they kissed mouth to mouth. She pushed her tongue inside him and he pushed back into her so that he was inside her mouth and her vagina at the same time. She liked that.
Then he grasped her underneath her thighs and lifted her up. She linked her feet behind his back and he walked them both over to the bed. She was surprised that he moved so easily. Mark could pick her up with no apparent effort but Anderson was a much slimmer man. Then he tilted her on to the bed but remained upright and ran his hand lightly over her nipples while thrusting into her. They were tight together allowing very little movement of his penis inside her. She wondered whether he did that to prevent himself coming too quickly.
She leant her head back and relaxed her arms and legs so that her feet touched the floor. He grasped her hips and started to move in and out of her with longer thrusts. Then he lightly touched her above his penis stimulating her clitoris. She abandoned herself to the sensations and her open mouth expressed her pleasure. Then she came and arched her back and he stopped while she climaxed and then relaxed before he moved again.
She came once more in that position before he came out of her and moved her fully on to the bed; then he laid himself over her body and placed himself into her again. This time he kept is weight on his arms and moved long and slow, brushing her nipples with his lips and then pushing his tongue into her mouth. Finally, his pace and the force of his thrusts increased until he came with a sharp stifled cry. Afterwards, he moved again more tentatively and she could feel the shiver of his effort but it was sufficient and she came again.
They rolled over on their side together and after a moment or two, when he had fallen out of her, she turned and lay with her back against his chest.
She knew that making love to someone new always made her feel good and she supposed it would be the same with him. Was that all it was, a cheap thrill? Was that why he had put himself at risk and why he had been the first to guard her at night? Surely not, it must be more than that; but it was too early to ask. Instead she said something else.
‘There’s something I should tell you about Mark.’ she said.
‘What?’
‘He has a mistress.’
‘You’re sure about that,’ he said.
‘He disappears every night and comes back in the early hours of the morning, so I’m damn sure,’ she said.