BiteMarks (21 page)

“
This is Karen's voicemail; leave me a message if it's important.”

Even the answer phone message is designed to show everybody how tough and no nonsense she is. It's all an act though; when she showed me those glimpses of who she is the conflict was immediately apparent. She trusted you with her glass heart and you dropped it. The hiss from the voice inside underneath the sediment, is enjoying the opportunity to strike out at me.

“
I'll give you an explanation soon, whether you want to hear it or not, Karen. First I need to find Dodds though.” I hang up, not knowing what else I can say right now.

Marcus can feel the presence of his friend's mood like a third presence watching them both from the back seat of the car. Shane focuses on the road ahead, driving within the speed limits but aggressively, it is an effort not to press the accelerator pedal all the way to the floor.

“
Thanks mate.” Marcus speaks first, uncomfortable with the thick silence.

“
What for?”

“
For getting me off the hook.”

“
Anytime.”

“
Jamie Moore's off on long term sick, apparently some sort of breakdown … ”

“
Shame.”

“
Yeah, but he rang the Inspector and retracted the complaint against me too.”

“
Result all round then.”

“
Definitely.”

The pause lengthens, silence pressing down again as Marcus tries to compose the right words into the right order. “Mate?”

“
Yes?”

“
I don't know what you did, but I hope it's not … troubling you?”

“
Why would it be?”

“
It's just that you seem tense and I thought that maybe the two things were connected … ”

“
All I did was visit him and make my thoughts and feelings clear. I just didn't realize how sensitive he was.”

“
Well then, what is it?”

The car comes to a gradual halt as the traffic backs up.

“
I think me and Karen are finished.”

Something ugly and hurting surfaces briefly before the features iron themselves flat and emotionless again. I can tell Marcus is shocked by the fleeting emotion and then by how swiftly the lid slams back down. 

He rests a hand on my arm as he speaks. “I'm sorry to hear that, if there's anything I can do just say the word.”

“
I thought I wasn't your type?” The reply comes with a wicked grin now, and Marcus starts to laugh, relieved and amused at the same time. The car takes a left turn.

“
Welcome back, mate. Can we stop the car and let the scary guy that you brought along with you today out for good?”

“
He's gone, for now at least.”

“
Good. Now run this whole thing by me again.”

“
I want us to find Brett Dodd's' address. I went in early this morning to take a look at what we've got on the guy and I reckon that we should be talking to the landlord for his previous known address.”

“
CID will have already done that, surely?”

“
The Criminal Investigation Department are dealing with three other large inquiries at the same time as this one, they might have missed something useful. This is the place.”

I pull up outside a large set of electric gates and kill the engine. The gates start to swing open before we can even ring the telecom to announce our presence.

“
I had the foresight to call ahead.”

“
Why would somebody with a place like this want to own flea pit bedsits in the city?” asks Marcus.

“
Probably because they're in demand by the parole services, guaranteed tenants and payment, no need to worry about management costs or advertising so more money into that big wallet.”

The repeated crunch of loose stones underfoot is a pleasingly meditative sound. Behind us the gate closes noiselessly on well-oiled hinges. A fleeting thought occurs to me,
how is this man different from Bennett and Jones? Growing wealthier with money from the aftermath of criminal activity, profiting from the crime cycle underpinning the dark heart of the city – only the methodology is different.

A man is standing up ahead, motionless on the stone doorstep; whatever I was expecting it wasn't this. He is tall, slim and well-groomed, perhaps early forties in age, a barrister or a doctor if my memory serves me well. The last time I saw him was in a darkened room, his mouth was sticky slick with maroon blood and red wine that he was drinking from a heavy crystal goblet. The candlelight gleamed where it touched the crystal it made the hollows of his face seem more pronounced and the fever in his eyes danced.

He wasn't expecting this either, that much is evident when his eyebrows make a brief attempt to join his receding hairline. I see Marcus noting the reaction, flicking me a quizzical glance but biting his tongue.

“
Hi there, as I mentioned on the phone earlier, we've just come along for your recollections on the gentleman who rented out one of your flats in Mapperley Park.”

“
I've already spoken to your colleagues, so I'm not sure if I can be of great use to you gentlemen, but what would you like to know?”

“
I believe that you had cause to pay this particular tenant a couple of visits before he decided to move on?”

“
Yes.”

“
What was your impression of him during those visits?”

“
My impression was different each time.”

“
How so?”

“
I met him twice. The first time he gave me no cause for concern, he was merely odd, filing his nails into points as I stood in the doorway speaking to him. He told me, unprompted, that his mother had worked in the area some years earlier, the euphemism was apparent in his tone.”

“
What about the second time?”

“
He showed me his new teeth and said that he thought that he might be suffering from porphyria – he knew that I was a doctor – hence why he was so pale. He asked whether I knew about the condition and what he might do to make himself feel better.”

“
What did you say?”

“
I told him that I was there about the problem with the toilet that he'd reported not to diagnose, and that he should see his own doctor if he was concerned.”

“
Thank you for your help. Marcus, could you give us a minute please? I'll join you back at the car.”

He gives me a look that tells me I'd better have a good explanation when I rejoin him, but starts to walk away.

“
I've told you what I know.”

“
Bullshit.”

“
What would you have said to him about that particular condition officer?”

“
The same thing you did; that it has been suggested that drinking blood can alleviate some of the symptoms, but that so could taking dietary supplements with iron. He'd need to speak to a professional first.”

“
Funny, I always forget about the tablets when I'm asked that one. You haven't considered the fact that with his new teeth he'd already had the idea for himself, have you?”

“
I just wonder about the timeline of events here, whether your recollections might be slightly out of order.”

“
Such cynicism from one so young.”

“
Where is he?”

“
Why on earth would I know?”

“
Don't make me have to ask you again.” My eyes flash with anger.

“
You don't frighten me.”

“
I will if I have to.”

“
I know which landlord I might go to if I needed somewhere discreet, I may have mentioned the name in conversation.” He takes out a Mont Blanc pen and a scrap of paper, scribbling down a name and address. “That's on account of our shared hobby, not because of your stupid threats.”

I watch his back as he turns away and heads back inside, the electric gates swing open again now as Marcus reaches the end of the driveway. I jog to join him, catching up as he enters the car between the entrance sentries, intimidating charcoal black, imposing gates. I can feel the end of the investigation drawing closer and relay news of the breakthrough to him while he sits unsmiling in the front seat.

“
What was all that about, Shane?”

“
I hadn't realized until I saw him that we already knew each other. I thought he might be more inclined to talk to me alone.”

“
So how do you know each other then?”

“
Does it matter?”

“
Yes, it does.”

“
I'm going to give you an answer but I need to think about how to say this, Marcus. Just drive for a minute while I think.”

A fragment of memory. The dense cover of trees dappling our faces with shade, blotting out the weak daylight and partially concealing our expressions with a cool moist blanket that reminds us of approaching winter. Meg and Will perched motionless on a fallen tree, looking like Marionettes from the film 'A Nightmare Before Christmas' with their painted faces and black clothing. They are unreal caricatures, sitting amongst the bright green moss and leathery orange fungi. 

The air smells musky, decomposing leaf litter splashed with white bird excrement. Something small scurries with a rustle nearby, wood pigeons flap and settle down to watch this impromptu theater.

The words spoken hang heavier than the air, ripe with the burden of expectation that they have placed upon my shoulders. Words with bitter tastes and the textures of rot and rage. “We want them both dead.”

The short sentence refers to Meg's father and Will's mother, the damaged damaging people that we hold responsible for marring their young lives with their abuse. We have often met out here to discuss hopes, dreams and plans for new ways to get our kicks, but never with the atmosphere that prevails this time. 

The small copse is a short distance away from the hollow that I visit when I need time alone; and the sense of isolation and unreality that hangs like a veil over the place. Unheard and unseen we can speak freely, there are no taboos here. 

“
Okay,” I hear myself speak with a measure of certainty that I don't feel inside. The hush of the surroundings deepens immeasurably.

“
What?” I ask Marcus to repeat the sentence that I just missed.

“
I said he doesn't look like a vampire.”

“
Who?”

“
Your friend that we just visited. That is what you're trying to think about how to tell me right now, isn't it? But then neither do you without the fangs  … ”

Chapter 14

I am beyond stunned. There is a sound like gale force wind through dry reeds; the blood in my body accelerating and crashing through my ears; I feel like I'm going to pass out or vomit. Marcus is pulling the car into a quiet side street and bringing it to a standstill.

“
Mate? Talk to me, what's going on?”

I take a couple of deep breaths, my vision moving back from fuzzy and indistinct tunnels to panorama again. 

“
You know?”

“
Of course.”

“
How?”

“
For somebody so bright you can be immensely dumb sometimes, mate. I was already beginning to suspect when you showed initial interest in this case and started talking about your mysterious friends and how you were worried about falling into the spotlight for the wrong reasons. When you showed me the fangs and made that crack about going to lots of fancy dress parties, I knew.”

“
Shit.”

“
What consenting adults do in their spare time is of no concern to me, mate. I'm gay, remember? You wouldn't believe how many people are still in knots just contemplating that fact.”

“
Why didn't you say?”

“
Mainly because that's your business. I don't know the mechanics of what you do, but I know that it's a big enough deal for you to not want it out in the open, so I left it. Is that what's screwed things up for you and Karen? Did you tell her?”

“
No, the problem is more that I haven't told her.”

“
You didn't just make a lunge for her neck with no foreplay, surely?” He grins mischievously.

“
I called off a cozy night in pretending to be ill and invited a couple of female friends – 'donors' is what people like me call them – around instead. Karen must have seen them arrive. I found a card and a present from her on the doorstep in the morning and now she's ignoring my calls.”