Bad House (6 page)

“That’s what I came to talk to you about. I would like to talk to you alone for a moment, if that’s alright with you.”

Jefferson was beginning to look nervous. “My colleague has every right to remain in her own office, Mr Webster.”

Ian flashed the girl a smile. “What’s your name?”

He wasn’t a vain man, but he knew that for some unfathomable reason a lot of women found him attractive. Maybe it was his height and athletic build. Or perhaps it was his face which he had been told a hundred times before was a bundle of contradictions, being an odd combination of strong-jawed ruggedness and boyish charm.

Fleetingly, his thoughts wandered to Marianna Hobbs. Was she as attracted to him as he was to her? Or was she just playing games? He pushed all thoughts of her aside and concentrated on the blonde before him. A glow suffused her cheeks at the intensity of his gaze and she giggled slightly when she answered:

“It’s Jean. Jean Metcalf.”

“Well, Jean, I need to talk to Jefferson here about a personal matter. Would you mind leaving us for a moment?”

“No, of course not,” she said, discreetly smoothing a wayward strand of blonde hair off her face. “I have to pop out for a moment anyway.”

“Thanks Jean,” he said, flashing another smile.

When the girl was gone his easy grin collapsed.

“You owe me an explanation
Jefferson.
About the house.”

The man’s eyes darted nervously from side to side. “I’m afraid I don’t quite know what you mean. All the contracts have been signed, Mr Webster, you are officially the home owner. twenty-nine Aberdeen Road is no longer the responsibility of Smooth Move.”

Ian perched on the edge of the desk, casually stretching out his long legs clad in faded denim and Jefferson flinched.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. I want to know about the previous owners.”

Now his boyish grin was in place once more, but his voice was pure steel and it wasn’t with friendliness that his blue eyes twinkled.

“Look, Ian, may I call you that?”

“You may call me whatever the fuck you please, so long as you answer my question.”

“There’s no need for such language, Mr Webster.
Ian.
If you persist in threatening me, I shall have no option but to call the police.”

“Stop being such a sleaze and answer the question. Why did the previous owners sell up?”

“I am not at liberty to divulge such information. I’m sorry Mr Webster, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Ian was getting one of his headaches and he squeezed the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger.

“Now let me make this really clear for you. I am not going
anywhere
until you tell me what I want to know. You had better start talking. Or else.”

“Right, that’s it, you’ve had your chance, I’m calling the police,” he said as he reached out for the receiver of the red telephone on his desk.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Ian’s hand pushed down on the estate-agents, mashing his little hand on top of the receiver with his broad palm. Jefferson looked like he was about to shit his pants. They may have been the same height, but Jefferson was puny and looked every bit like he came off a factory conveyer-belt that manufactured limp wristed, office wimps.

His weak chin trembled and his big, fearful eyes shone with unshed tears when Ian spoke:

“This is what you are going to do. You are going to give me the contact details of the people that used to live at twenty-nine Aberdeen Road. And after you’ve written that information down, you are going to tell me, in your own words, why you think they wanted to sell. And if you don’t feel like cooperating…”

Ian opened his leather jacket and casually placed his fingertips on the handle of the red penknife in the inner-pocket. Jefferson’s eyes bulged and a single bead of sweat rolled down the vast expanse of his forehead.

Ian let go of his hand and Jefferson cradled it to his chest reproachfully.

“Here,” Ian said, shoving a notepad and pen towards him. “Write.”

“I can’t remember the details. All the details are in my work emails.”

“Then get them. I’m
sure
you won’t mind if I watch. Not that you would even
dream
of doing anything daft like emailing out a distress call, or anything.”

Ian leaned forward on the desk and watched him type. His hands visibly shook as he punched the keys. Once he’d found what he sought, he scribbled down the details on the pad.

Ian ripped off the page, briefly examining it before shoving it in his jeans’ pocket, pleased to see that it was a Manchester address. He leaned over and switched off the computer.

“Now, let’s talk. Who is this Louise Brown, and why did she sell?”

“Technically, it wasn’t her house. Well, of course it
was
her house, but she had never lived in it. It was her parent’s house and they left it to her in the will. She had power of attorney.”

Ian frowned slightly, digesting the implications of what he was saying. “When and how did her parents die?”

“They didn’t die. Or maybe they did, who knows? They just disappeared one day.”

The house ate them.

The sudden thought was as ridiculous as it was terrifying. Maybe
ate
was too strong, but the house killed them somehow, he was sure of it.

“What do you mean they just disappeared?”

“Just that. One day, ten years ago they just weren’t there anymore. Vanished into thin air. After nine years the police declared them officially dead, even though their bodies were never found. The house eventually went to the daughter and she sold it as soon as she could.”

“What did she think happened to her parents? Why did she sell?”

Jefferson looked as if he was unsure of what to say. “I have to admit, I thought the girl was a little
strange.
Unstable, one could say. She said that, that…”

“Go on.”

“She said that the house was evil and killed her parents.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t
mean
anything. I’m only repeating what she said.”

“Don’t get smart with me, Jefferson.”

“I’m not.”

Ian stared hard at him, assessing him. The last thing Ian wanted to admit was that he agreed with this Louise Brown. There was nothing left to say so he stood up from the desk.

“Don’t even think about crying harassment to the police. It will be just your word against mine and I
will
come for you and shut you up for good.”

His words surprised even him. Ian was usually placid, but he actually
meant
what he said, and if Jefferson’s expression was anything to go by, so did he.

Without another word, he left the stunned man in his office.

“Ian, who is that man? What’s going on? You were supposed to pick up Jacob from school, where the hell
were
you?”

“Hello Holly, did you have a nice day?”

She leaned in close so that the man on the stepladder who was fixing up a camera in the corner of the ceiling of the living-room couldn’t hear:

“
Do not fuck with me, Ian
.”

“I’m not. This is Bob, he’s fixing up an internal security system.”

The overweight man with the saggy jeans showcasing his arse-crack, grunted a greeting.

“He’s
what
?”

“Fixing up an internal security system so that the house is monitored twenty-four hours a day.”

He didn’t tell her how much it was costing to get this guy from the computer shop to rig this stuff up at such short notice. She would
freak
if she knew that figure.

Fuck her, I earn that money, I can do what the hell I like with it
.

Holly looked like she was about to cry. “Please tell me this is a joke.”

“No. No joke.”

“Go and play in your room, sweetheart,” Holly said to Jacob, gently pushing him towards the door. “I need to have a word with Daddy.”

Jacob glanced up at his dad, the slightest smile playing on his lips.

He understands why I’m doing this,
he thought in relief.
He knows I’m trying to get evidence of the freaky shit that is going on with this house
.

He smiled back.

“Come on,” he said to his wife once Jacob had left the room. He placed a hand under her elbow. “Let’s leave Bob to it.”

She shook off his hand. “Fine.”

They headed for the kitchen and Ian busied himself filling up the kettle. An image of Marianna slammed into his mind, the way she had looked in that baby-doll nightie as she made coffee.

And her pussy when she had opened her legs…

“So are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on?”

Ian regarded his wife. She looked more like a rat to him with every passing second. How different she was from Marianna, with her soft curves and tawny, glowing skin.

Stop it, just stop it.

“There’s something going on with this house, Holly. And whatever it is, I’m going to catch it on film.”

“You’re fucking crazy,” she hissed. “This is madness. And how could you forget to pick up Jacob from school? I’ve been trying and trying to call you.”

“Yeah, well, I really am sorry about that, I’ve been kind of busy today and I forgot my phone.”

“You forgot your fucking
son.
”

Her tone of voice was really beginning to grate on him and he abandoned the coffee he was making and reached for an already opened bottle of red on the counter. He poured himself a large glass without offering her one.

“It was an accident. Besides, there’s an after-school club there, he was perfectly safe and looked after.”

“Are you actually
drinking
again? Jesus Christ, so now you’re an alcoholic on top of going crazy? Do you have any idea how humiliating it was for me to have Jacob’s school call me to say you hadn’t turned up?”

It felt like his heart was throbbing in his temples and he took a big gulp of wine. “Well, I’m so sorry I’m such an embarrassment to you.”

“My God, Ian, you’re impossible…” She looked heavenwards and her voice trailed off. Her eyes went wide. “Is that a
camera
up there?”

“Yes, it is. Bob has kindly put one in the living room, kitchen, our bedroom and Jacob’s bedroom.”

“
What
?”

Ian was getting quite tired of this stupid question and answer game. Luckily, he was saved from answering when Bob stuck his head round the kitchen door.

“I’m all done, Mr Webster, the security system is up and running. Everything runs off the laptop in the living room. It’s pretty simple stuff, if you come with me now, I can go through it all with you.”

“Sure thing, Bob.”

Ian turned to follow him down the hallway.

“Ian,” his wife hissed behind him. “You need help. And I’m not sure I’m the one to give it anymore.”

“I have to do this first, we’ll talk when I’m done.”

“Maybe you won’t get the chance. What’s to stop me throwing some stuff into a bag for me and Jacob and just walking out the door
right now
?”

God, how her bloody voice grated.

“We’ll talk when I’m done,” he said with exaggerated patience.

“Fuck you, Ian,” she said under her breath when he turned to leave.

Her voice was like fingernails down his back and it took all his effort not to turn around and scream at her to shut the fuck up and talk to him with some bloody respect.

When he went into the living room, he found he was trembling with ill-supressed rage.

By the time Bob left half-an-hour later, Ian was pretty clued-up on his new security system. He had bought a new laptop for the sole purpose of filming the house, and the live-feed from the cameras was continuously transmitted into this laptop. At a click of the mouse, Ian could watch any of the rigged-up rooms in real time. Playback was a little more complicated. To watch anything previously recorded, he had to open up the downloaded footage stored onto the pc. But Bob went though it with him step by step and Ian was confident he could work it himself.

Now he sat there alone in the living room, staring at the screen of the pc on his lap. He had the live-feed from all four rooms playing simultaneously. Holly and Jacob were in the kitchen in the lower, right-hand corner of the screen. They were eating dinner and Ian felt a wave of hatred for his wife.

Nice of the bitch to wait for me
.

He watched his wife and son eating. It was in black and white and a little grainy, but he could easily see that they were having spaghetti bolognaise for dinner. His stomach rumbled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten today.