A Murderer's Heart (2 page)

Sam looked at his boss and smiled as he said, “Don’t worry. You should know Missus Kennedy is always late, which of course is just as well. You know I always try to give the early appointments to the clients who will usually turn up late – give you time to settle. What made you late this morning?”

“
Not what; who. Barbara ‘phoned, in a fluster about tonight’s do. Which reminds me; will you call the caterers and confirm those changes? And in your lunch break would you please pick up Barbara’s dry cleaning – her spare something, oh yes jacket? And can you please double-check the flower delivery? I know none of this is in your job description but I need to delegate even more today. I’ll make it up to you and buy you something sumptuous when we have a minute to breathe later in the week. Any problems?”

“
Not one,” replied Sam. “And don’t worry about job description. I gave up understanding that when I first came to work for you seven months ago. Yes to all of the above, and don’t worry, everything will be fine. That’s not to say I won’t hold you to that lunch.”

He paused, smiled then continued.

“
Barbara has set your stress button in motion again...I’m sure she does it on purpose! Now, drink your coffee, you have a while before Missus Kennedy arrives, at least another ten minutes by past records, so I’ll make the first of these calls.”

With that, Sam left Anne’s office, shutting the door gently behind him.

Anne smiled as she sipped her coffee and thought how lucky she was to have found Sam. As she tidied her desk and sorted papers, she thought back a few months.

She had met him, of all places, in her local delicatessen. She hated supermarkets with their impersonal, standardised merchandise. Every chance she could, she would make the effort to walk round to Genelli’s and drink in the atmosphere. There was so much to see, touch and smell, as well as listening to the Italian voices of those who worked in the family business. The place was so unusual in the modern world, the shopping giants ruining such small concerns, but somehow Genelli’s had survived and was always full of friendly, curious people.

One Saturday morning, Anne entered Genelli’s, not sure of what she wanted, but that was part of the pleasure; choosing, deciding.

While she was craning her neck to see the wonders on the top shelves, she backed into who she now knew as Sam. Tall, dark and handsome, how corny she thought, but he really was. He laughed the same time as she, when they’d collided, both apologising, and then laughed again.

They’d liked each other immediately, though each would know they were both unattainable – she because her career was everything, he, because he told her he was gay.

After their shopping was complete, they’d agreed to have lunch, each completely at ease with one another.

They’d talked constantly, whilst they’d eaten, and became firm friends in a relatively short time.

As Anne thought back, she realised that it didn’t matter how long you knew someone to know they were connected to you.

From that moment in Genelli’s to now, more than seven months later, Anne had never had such a good, loyal friend. Someone who would never let her down, she knew plenty that had, but never Sam. They were each confident of each other’s complete friendship. It had seemed only natural that he came to work for her. He needed a job; she needed someone she could trust.

She gave in to a smile however, when she thought that the most handsome of men were always gay. If he hadn’t been – who knew!

Sam’s voice on the intercom, announcing Mrs Kennedy’s arrival, brought Anne back to the present.

She put down her coffee mug and went to open her office door to allow in her first appointment of the day.

********

After settling back at his desk, Sam had begun typing the day’s letters when the ‘phone rang.

“
Hello, Doctor Blake’s office.”

“
Oh, hello. I was wondering if you could help me. Doctor Blake was recommended to me by someone who used to see her,” a hesitant male voice said.

“
Could I have you name please, sir?” Sam asked.

“
I’m sorry, yes of course! My name is Armstrong, Peter Armstrong and I desperately need to speak to Doctor Blake.”

“
I’m afraid Doctor Blake is fully booked for quite some time,” Sam answered.

“
But it’s urgent!” exclaimed the caller. “It’s vital I speak to someone. It’s about my mother, she….and I, need her help. I’ve been trying to sort things out myself but things are worse. I don’t know where else to turn and...”

There was a pause.

Sam waited, full of sympathy.

But what could he do?

“
Oh please can’t you help? I’m sorry, but things are becoming intolerable. I don’t know what will happen if someone doesn’t help us.” Armstrong’s voice trailed off into a whisper of desperation then fell silent.

“
Mister Armstrong, I’m sorry...”

“
There must be something – please!” Armstrong interrupted.

Sam relented. “Look okay, I’ll see what I can do. Doctor Blake is with someone right now. Can I call you back? I’m sure she would like to help but as I said, she’s extremely busy.”

“
Okay,” the caller whispered, as if he’d run out of steam. “Pease do what you can. I don’t know how much more…” The voice hesitated again.

“
Listen, give me your number and I’ll talk to Doctor Blake,” Sam said.

“
Okay.”

Sam wrote the number on the yellow pad and said, his tone reassuring, “I’ll call back in about an hour.”

The connection was then broken.

Sam looked at the time on the wall clock knowing it would be at least another thirty-five minutes before he could talk to Anne.

He continued his work with a troubled mind.

********

After Mrs Kennedy had left by the special exit door of Anne’s office, she pressed the intercom and asked Sam if her next appointment had arrived.

“
No, not yet,” replied Sam and then added, “But I’d like to speak to you about a disturbing ‘phone call before they get here.”

As Sam entered Anne’s office he looked worried and quickly told her about the call from Peter Armstrong.

“
But I can’t really take any more clients just now, you know this, Sam.”

“
I know, but this seems so urgent...if you’d heard his voice; his desperation. I know you’d want to take this case. I said I’d call him in about twenty minutes...what if I put him straight on to you?”

“
I can’t possibly. I know you have an instinct for these things but how can I take on any more? Anyway, I’ll be seeing Mister Parker soon.”

“
Okay, what if I schedule an appointment for the end of today, just for fifteen minutes? You’ll be able to judge for yourself whether or not to take on the case. But I’m sure you won’t be able to turn him away.”

Anne sighed.

He was right of course but...

“
Well, okay. But I mustn’t be late for tonight’s party. You know how important that is.”

“
Yes, yes I know, thanks,” answered a relieved Sam, as he again left Anne’s office, just in time to welcome Mr Parker.

********

After Mr Parker left Anne’s office, she saw another two patients before she could think about what Mr Armstrong could need from her. Anne had been a practising psychiatrist for several years and had never regretted her decision.

In her many years of dealing with people’s problems, she had ceased to become surprised at what people did to themselves and others.

It was while she was deciding in what field to specialise, when she had begun her mandatory six months at Tadmore Psychiatric Hospital.

She had become intrigued with the mind and how and why it worked – what triggered the many physical and emotional problems within the human race?

At the end of her training, she went back to Tadmore and then set up her own practice, and had helped many people.

She worked too hard and could never turn people away who needed her help – Sam knew this, but she trusted his instincts as well as her own.

After a quick lunch break, consisting of half a salad sandwich and bottle of water, Anne saw all her patients and dealt with their problems one by one, seeing them as individuals, empathising with each one. She knew she became too involved but that was how she worked, how else could she work? She didn’t know.

At five o’clock, Sam reminded her that Mr Armstrong was arriving.

“Okay, Sam. You don’t have to stay. Why don’t you go and help Barbara with tonight’s party, and please try to calm her down. Were there any problems with the arrangements?”

“Not one,” replied Sam and added, “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?”

“No, I’ll be fine, and I’ll be happier knowing all is in hand with the party. I’ll meet you there at seven thirty, which will give me time to swing in at home, shower and change. Are you sure everything will be okay? If we don’t get that extra funding, we’ll never be able to open that ‘Back into the World’ programme.”

Anne could feel the panic starting to rise again.

“Will you stop worrying? After all the work you have put in
and
the other sponsorship you have, they are sure to back you. Now, just see to this last appointment and I’ll meet you there – are you sure you don’t need me?” Sam asked again.

“No, really, I’m fine. See you later,” Anne said, just as Peter Armstrong walked into the outer office.

{5}

“
Please come through, Mister Armstrong,” said Anne as she led him to her office, and then indicated where he should sit.

She had chosen the formal setting for this first meeting.

“
Thank you so much for seeing me,” Peter said with a nervous and expectant voice, while he followed Anne through and sat down.

After both had made themselves comfortable, Anne behind her desk facing Peter, he opposite, she smiled gently and told him, “I must warn you that I really am fully booked at present.”

“
I know,” Peter answered, and then added, “Your assistant did tell me. But I’m so desperate. I remembered your name being mentioned by an acquaintance of mine. She said you had helped her enormously. Do you remember Dawn Phillips?”

Anne nodded as he continued.

“
She was such a mess – though not in the same way
I
need help. But she did recommend I talk to you. Please, please...I’m sorry, I’m rambling, please…” Peter stopped talking and looked down into his lap confused, rubbing his hands together, obviously agitated.

Anne could feel her empathy rearing and sighed inwardly knowing she’d be unable to resist at least listening to his problem.

“
Are you alright, Mister Armstrong? Do you need a drink of water?”

Peter shook his head, still looking down.

“
Why don’t you just tell me how you think I may help you?” added Anne, her voice gentle.

“
Please call me Peter. Thank you. I don’t know if you can do anything for me. I’m so ashamed and confused. I’m frightened of what may happen next.”

Peter continued to rub his hands together.

Trying to calm things down, Anne said, her voice quiet, “Why don’t you just tell me what you can as calmly as possible and we’ll see where things go?”

Oh, dear, she thought, she was going to be late!

{6}

More than an hour late, Anne Blake arrived at the venue for her party – though why she called it that, she didn’t know. It was more like an awareness campaign, a fundraiser for her special needs projects, in particular those people who became killers.

It had always fascinated her why people killed. Her research had showed that there were many reasons why people developed personality disorders, which sometimes led to them killing. However, her main areas of interest were Psychopathic Disorders, Multiple Personality Disorder or more recently known as Dissociative Identity Disorder, and Schizophrenia. Much more research was needed and of course that meant sponsorship – the main reason for tonight’s ‘party’.

As she raced up the steps towards the hotel’s entrance, Anne’s mind also raced with what she had to say to persuade her guests that hers was a good cause, a vital one in fact. It didn’t help that she was late – why was she always late?

Both Sam and Barbara were at the door to meet her, as she had ‘phoned to let them know she was only a few minutes away.

Barbara pounced on her saying, “Where have you been, for goodness sake? People are getting restless. I’ve had to make excuse after excuse saying you had an emergency. Anne, please hurry, it’s time for your speech. People will either leave or be too drunk to take you seriously.”