Son of a Serial Killer (17 page)

51

Kite pulled the car up outside the flats where Eve lived.

‘
Are you doing this on your own?’ he asked Summers. ‘We ran a check on her, she seems to a good citizen.’

‘
Yes,’ she replied, ‘I’ll be fine.’

‘
And boss,’ said Kite, ‘you think you’ll be staying on in the force? Now that you’ve, you know, done what you wanted to do?’

Summers smirked.

‘Are you after my job already, DC Kite?’ replied Summers. ‘To honest, I don’t know what I’ll do. But if I go, I’ll put in a good word for you, I promise. You wait here, I won't be long.’

S
he awkwardly lifted herself from the car and closed the door behind her. Kite smiled to himself as he watched his boss hobble to the front door. She was buzzed in and Eve was stood at the door to her flat to welcome her in.

Summers looked at Eve and saw how pale and tired she looked, maybe a consequence of discovering the man in your life wasn't quite who he seemed.
She introduced herself, and Eve replied that she had read a lot about her and asked how she was feeling after the attack.

T
he small talk didn’t last long. Eve sat down on the bed. Summers opted for a wooden chair, thinking it would be easier to stand up afterwards with her injuries.

‘
Would you like a cup of tea or something?’ asked Eve.

Summers shook her head, and pressed on with
the reason she was there.

She explained what Ben had done, of course Eve had seen all this in t
he papers, but then Summers pulled out the envelope and gave it to her. It was already torn open, as the police had wanted to know exactly what was written and as was their right; there was potentially something in there to help with the prosecution of Mrs Green.

Eve found the cheque, her eyes nearly popped out of her head. She reached back into the envelope and pulled out the letter.

'My dearest Eve,' she read to herself before the first tears welled up in her eyes. She shook her head and held the letter out towards Summers.

‘
Could you please read it to me?’ she asked, ‘I don't want to do it on my own.’

‘
Of course.’ said Summers. ‘Can I ask... was it a full blown affair you were having with Mr Green?’

Eve shook her head, tears falling down her cheeks, she managed half a giggle.

‘I knew him just a couple of days,’ she replied. ‘Bit of a whirlwind romance, really. Then he just said it had to stop. I thought he'd just used me for sex, but then it didn't ring true because it felt so much more than that. I bet I sound a right naïve idiot?’

‘
No, I don't think you do.’

Summers adjusted in her seat, cleared her throat and
began reading the letter Ben Green had written to say goodbye to Eve.

My Dearest Eve,

Never in my life have I met someone like you.

You were the first person to make me laugh out loud for longer than I can remember. I used to be happy, I used to laugh so hard that my stomach would hurt and I couldn't breathe. Thank you for giving me a taste of that again.

I know we didn't know each other for long, and there is a chanc
e that the way I feel is not reciprocated. Maybe I am wrong about you, and this was just a fling, but I don't believe that to be true.

When we talked, about everything and anything, I saw glimpses of a lost soul, an innocent person struggling to make her way in this god awful world. Don'
t worry. I know you'll make it. You question everything, and it’s only a matter of time before you find the answers you are looking for.

I'm sorry that I had to leave you the way I did. I wish you had walked into my life years ago, I can only imagine how different things would have been. Truth be told, if I'd met you even just a few days ago I would have run away with you and given you the world.

I'm sure by now you have read in the papers, or seen the news, and know what I have done, and what I really am. You are probably relieved that you didn't come to any harm, but I assure you, you will live a long and happy life, so don't go through it carrying fear, just be your beautiful self and everything else will fall into place.

I have written a cheque for you. It is a lot of money; it
is for you to do as you choose.

It was from the will of my father, and I have the right to give it to you, so if the police give you any trouble then give them some trouble right back! Maybe you'll go back to university and study something that'll help you make the world a better place, or maybe you'll give it to a charity. You're a bright girl, I'm
sure you'll figure out what best to do with it.

I wish I was stronger and could stay to face the punishment that I so obviously deserve, but at the same time, I have grown to understand that I carry a genetic malfunction, like my mother, who you
have probably realised by now is the dreaded Phantom killer. I am so embarrassed. I am actually mad! How’s my luck?

I have been hearing voices, like my moth
er does, for a while now, but recently it has become more and more frequent. I see things, I hear things, I have dark feelings flow through my body and I fear for the safety of myself and those around me. This is why I know I have to take my life.

After my mother dies, our family will no longer exist, and I hope that along with us, this monstrous gene will die and never walk the earth again.

I have to go now. I have to do this before I lose my nerve.

Thank you, for making the last days of my life bearable, those moments of sunshine will be with me forever.

I love you.

Ben x

Summers folded the letter and placed it on the table beside her. It was a sad moment. The girl sat on the bed in front of her clearly
had feelings for Ben Green, although surely the fact he was a murderer would soften the blow after losing him.

‘
Are you going to be ok?’ asked the detective.

‘
Not really,’ said Eve, shaking her head, tears now streaming down her face. ‘This genetic problem he had, and his mother, was it really what made him mad?’

Summers thought back to her days at medical school.

‘Well, yes, in a way,’ she responded. ‘Sometimes certain genetic weaknesses will be passed down generations, just like tall parents will likely have tall children; the same principle applies to other things such as the mind. Not always, but it’s certainly possible, yes. But don't worry, it isn't contagious.’

Eve looked deep into the eyes of Summers.

‘Oh, I know it’s not contagious,’ she said, ‘but I'm pregnant.’

THE END

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Sample Chapters

1 - FRIENDS

So there I was, Jimmy Walker, on my last night out with the boys, marking the end of one chapter, and the beginning of another.

I sat at the same table, at the same pub, surrounded by the same friends, drinking the same drinks and talking the same drunken nonsense we'd been talking for as long as I can remember.

Habits, we're creatures of habit, us humans, some more than others.

It wasn't long before Scott offered me a line of Cocaine, or 'Trumpet,’ as he preferred to call it. Although I was feeling a little tipsy, I'd made a promise to myself that I wouldn't be doing any more of those little white lines, so I declined. Sure, it had been one of many promises I'd made concerning that moreish Colombian export, but at some point you've got to just say no, like those kids from Grange Hill (although I have heard a few of them were a little self-indulgent, at times).

‘Come on, Jimbo,’ said Tommy, sliding a small, round tablet along the table and tucking it away behind my drink, ‘this'll get you in the mood. It's your last night with the boys, mate, get involved.’

'Bastards,' I thought.

Why is it that some people always find themselves spending time, even wasting time, with people that really aren't pulling in the same direction?

I took a gulp of lager, washing down a dose of ecstasy as I did so. I felt the familiar lump of synthetic enjoyment bump its way to the back of my mouth, down my throat and into the pit of my stomach, only to feel it work its way into my bloodstream, up from my feet, through my leg and body and down my arms before pulling my cheeks apart and forcing a smile on my face within minutes.

‘So how long d'you reckon you'll stay in Spain then, mate?’ asked Lee.

‘He'll be back in three weeks, tail between his legs, begging for a couch to sleep on!’ interjected Dave, always the loudest of the group. He managed to get a laugh on this occasion as well.

Little did they know that there was a part of me that did worry about failing completely on my new adventure at the first obstacle, and having to come back and swallow the abuse that these guys would thoroughly enjoy dishing out to me.

I tilted my head back against the wall, and gave Scott a nudge with my elbow.

‘I wouldn't mind that upper now, mate.’

I followed Scott into the men's room.

We walked past one of the old alcoholics who was pissing into a urinal, or at least had been at some point, and had near-enough fallen asleep whilst standing with his head pressed against the cold wall tiles. We stepped into the same toilet cubicle, locking the door behind us. If the old boy had noticed us was debatable, but sadly irrelevant too.

Between us, and all the others who took drugs on a regular basis like us, thousands and thousands of lines of Coke must've been ‘racked up’ on the toilets in this pub. Fat lines, thin lines, long lines and those ridiculously short lines you get given when whoever's got the Charlie isn't feeling overly generous; an end of the night at the end of the month kind of situation.

No more cash, no more Coke, may as well go home then.

But it wasn't one of them nights, far from it, in fact. Scott had taken to buying 'eighths' at a time nowadays, three and a half grams, with the purpose of it lasting longer, and his money going further. But it never worked out like that.

One problem with Cocaine, as many a user can testify, is that when you start, stopping is a really difficult thing to do. In fact, after your first line, then your sixth and seventh line, stopping isn't really an option anymore. It almost seems like a bad idea.

In my opinion, this isn't the 'long term addiction' that'll get you robbing your neighbours or even your family so as you can afford to buy your next hit, it’s just that while you have the drug flowing through your blood, you are constantly chasing the high it gave you during those first minutes.

With Cocaine, the high really doesn't last that long, not for the price, certainly. Thankfully, after a good night’s sleep and a good feed, this 'short term addiction' wears off and you become yourself again, forgetting that line sniffing, snot dribbling, Coke monster until the next time you decide to, or can afford to, get high again.

As Scott tipped out enough Trumpet for a 'proper' line each, almost perfectly measured by eye, like an old-school cocktail barman who refuses to use the optical measures out of professional pride, I took out the first note I came across from my pocket and began to roll it into a straw-like object, until I noticed that the fiver was old and a bit flimsy, so I changed it for a newer twenty-pound note that was crisp more practical for the job in hand.

‘So, you're really going through with this?’ Scott asked.

‘Yeah, man,’ I replied, ‘I just need to get away, you know.’

‘And you're sure this ain't 'coz Colleen got with that mug from Watford? It won't last, mate.’

He took the makeshift straw and sniffed up his line up Coke in one, short, powerful sniff, then handed it back to me.

‘Listen, Scott, you know it got me down. But she left me before he came along. She left me because I drink too much and I'm half a Coke-head who's going nowhere in life. And we both know the misery she’s been through because of me.’

I rubbed my left nostril and snorted, clearing any obstacles my nose might've had concealed that could potentially block my line of happiness from reaching its destination. Then I leant forward and cleared the tiled surface of Powder.

‘I don't blame her for leaving me, and she's not the reason I'm leaving here,’ I continued.

And what I told him was true, pretty much.

The thought of running into the love of my life with her new man, was definitely something I was keen to avoid. It had only been a couple of months since the last time I'd broken down in tears over the whole episode. But more than that, I'm a junkie. Maybe not a heroin addict, or a meth-head, but most of my money goes on drink and drugs, and smoking of course, which isn't getting any cheaper. Then there's the hangovers as well, I swear they get worse week by week. Seriously, I only feel fully recovered from a weekend by the Thursday, and then there's only one day of normality before I'm handing over more money to the barman, drug dealer or tobacconist.

To say my work had suffered was an understatement. I really couldn't stand being there anymore, and they didn't want me either, so when I handed in my notice it was a happy day for everyone.

Scott pissed into the toilet as I unrolled my money and shoved it deep into my pocket. We left the cubicle and washed our hands, I cooled my face and my balding head with some of the cold water as Scott touched his hair whilst staring into the mirror.

‘And this job, what’s the crack exactly?’ he asked.

‘It’s selling property, or timeshare, or something like that,’ I replied, a little embarrassed at the fact I didn't know exactly what I was going to be doing in Spain. ‘It's not important, anyway. I just need a change of scene. I want a change of scene. It'll do me good, you know?’

He nodded, maybe in thoughtful agreement, maybe because he didn't know what to say. But then he did say something.

‘So you're gonna come back a changed man,’ he stated, hopefully.

I smiled.

I liked the thought of that, coming back a changed man, no longer having to shoulder the weight of being an underachiever, to come back a winner, and proud, and happy, and drug-free.

‘It's like you can read my mind, Scott.’

‘I've just known you too long, mate.’

We high-fived, then for some reason he gave me a hug. Maybe he was sad to see me go, but more likely he was incredibly high and we all get a bit soft when we're steaming.

‘Worst case scenario, you'll be back in three weeks like that muppet out there said,’ he said.

‘Is this a private party?’ asked Dave.

Scott let me go and we turned to see Dave's head stuck through the men's room door.

‘And who you calling a muppet?’ he continued. ‘Come on girls, finish your cuddle, we got a line of Sambuca’s on the bar.’

We had our shots, then more beers, then more shots, and so on. Occasionally we'd visit the men's room for business as usual and we were just having a good time. Good fun, bad jokes and the occasional rejection from below average women.

We were all sat back at the table watching Tommy, who stood at the bar with a couple of heavily made-up teenagers, borderline illegal drinkers, when Dave piped up.

‘Boys, watch,’ he said, before vomiting into his pint glass, then continuing to drink from it, and then stating as a matter of fact, ‘I'm a fucking legend.’

Lee covered his mouth in horror as me and Scott creased up in laughter. Tommy had noticed from the bar and tried his best to look like he didn't know us, which didn't work for long as Scott stood up and joined him and the two girls.

Tommy bowed his head, shamefully, as Scott whispered into the ears of the blondest of the two blondes, who reacted swiftly with a hasty slap across his face. She grabbed her friend by the arm and they both left. Scott laughed and apologised to Tommy, who shrugged it off as standard behaviour and gulped down the rest of his beer.

I wouldn't change them for the world, my friends. It’s me that has got to change.

'I'll enjoy tonight, but from tomorrow I'll be the new me. The new improved, sensible, sober, happy me who achieves things and makes his family and friends proud,’ I thought to myself, before I sneaked off to the toilet, locked the door on the cubicle, sank to my knees and puked.

2 - FAMILY

The four of us were sat around the small, dining table at the back of the living room. My sister, Esther, and her son, Finley, had joined me and my mum, Charlotte, for a roast dinner.

Esther was a good looking woman, a few years older than me, but a little tired looking from the stress of bringing up her boy on her own. Finley was great though, and you could see the bond between them was something special, even if he did test her patience at times.

‘Thanks mum,’ said Esther, ‘that was great,’ as she laid her knife on fork down on her empty plate.

‘It was more of a team effort, to be honest’ mum replied, smiling at me.

‘Then thank you, too, James’ she said, ever so slightly sarcastically, knowing by the clear signs of a hangover written all over me, that I likely played a very small part in the preparation of any food.

‘No problem.’

Finley used his knife to roll around the remains of his dinner, which was all his vegetables, as me and my mum finished what was left on our plates.

‘Finish your food,’ Esther snapped at Finley, bored at having the same situation play out whenever he didn't fancy eating the healthy part of his meals.

My mum stood and stacked her, mine and Esther’s plates then took them out to the kitchen.

‘Hey Jimmy,’ called Finley, ‘look.’

I looked to my side and saw my nephew using a stick of carrot to simulate smoking a cigarette.

‘Eat your bloody food, Finley,’ Esther snapped, ‘or you'll get no dessert. I mean it.’

Esther was stressed more than usual today. Partly due to me leaving, I think, worrying about the trouble I may get into whilst away, without her or my mum being there to bail me out of trouble. But also she was worried about mum, who was really worried about me. There was a giant vacuum of worry circulating and it seemed to be entirely my fault. Which to be honest, it was.

‘This is killing her, you know?’ A statement and question all rolled into one.

I nodded, with a slight shrug of my shoulders to boot. What could I say? I felt like I needed this, and my mum and Esther were meant to be the strong ones, how come I'm the only person who didn't seem to think my trying pastures new is a bad idea? Other than Finley, of course, my darling nephew who thinks the proverbial sun shines from my backside, bless him.

‘Have you decided how long you'll be away yet?’ she asked, ‘I can't be here all the time checking on her, I've got this little brat to look after. This better not be just some extended boy's holiday.’

‘It isn't.’

‘Always drinking, and shoving that shit up your nose.’

‘Mummy, you swore!’ said Finley, giggling away at his mum's loss of control.

‘Quiet, Finley,’ she said, turning her attention to the apple of her eye, ‘take your plate out to your nan.’

‘But I haven't finished my vegetables,’ he answered.