Son of a Serial Killer (5 page)

15

Natalie hit the call button on the phone in her hand. She wanted to tell Ben to come home so they could sort things out. She wanted him to know that, although she had obviously done a very bad thing, that their relationship was worth fighting for.

She wanted him to know that he would never find he
r in bed with another man again, but she also wanted him to admit, that by not keeping her satisfied sexually, he was partly to blame for what had happened earlier that day.

The phone rang three rings before being forwarded to answer machine.

BEEP

‘
Well don’t answer the fucking phone then, Ben. See if I give a shit.’

She always had trouble keeping her cool, especially when she was at risk of losing something she wanted, or
getting something she didn’t want.

She didn’t want to leave Ben’s house, she had spent over two years getting the décor just as she wanted it. It really was a comfortable place to live
and in a good location. Neither did she want Ben to find out she was a whore, she wasn’t ashamed as such, but knew keeping things discreet was better for business.

She stomped from the lounge
and into the bedroom, grabbed a suitcase from beside the wardrobe and slung it open on the bed. She looked at the empty case and her designer clothes, hung up in order of colour. Could she walk away? Could she not keep her cool, convince Ben it was a one off and get things back on track?

She
casually filled the case whilst pondering over what to do. By the time it was full of clothes and closed shut, she really didn’t know whether she was going or staying.

Would Ben be back tonight?
Would he even let her stay if he did come back?

She sat down on the bed, just as she receive
d a text message on her phone, her stomach churned as she took it in hand and prepared herself for the response from Ben. But the text wasn’t from her angry boyfriend, it was from Mr Money.

YOU BUSY?

Natalie couldn’t do anything about the Ben situation while he wasn’t home and not answering his mobile, so decided she may as well keep herself occupied. She gave Mr Money the response he was hoping for.

16

Ben was shattered. The events of the day were taking their toll.

It isn’t every day you lose your job. It’s not every day that you discover first hand that your loved one is cheating on you. For most, committing
a double murder will never happen. Then on top of all that, Ben had his mother insinuating that his father was an infamous serial killer.

He was exhausted.

He had strong doubts that the anger management meeting would be of any benefit to his situation, but after loitering outside for a few minutes and realising he didn’t have anywhere else to go, he found himself sat down in the back row of the civic centre meeting room.

T
he room filled up soon enough, and on the hour, the counsellor entered the room and introduced herself. The lack of attention paid to her by most of the group gave Ben the impression that most of them were regulars.

Maggie was a kind lady, volunteering one evening a week to help those in her local community who were honest enough to admit they had some issues to deal with, not forgetting those who were forced to attend by the local courts
following some type of violent or anti-social behaviour. One could tell the difference between those who chose to be there and those who were forced to attend; the contrast between interest and disinterest couldn’t be clearer.

One by one, the group introduced themselves, gave a brief explanation of why they were there. Some people gave lengthy stories of past events with personal theori
es as to what led to their disturbing thoughts or violent outbursts, or both. Others played down their level of aggression and defensively pleaded their normality.

Ben actually appeared quite shy. Did his history of talking to strangers over the phone not translate to live confessions to complete unknowns in a therapy group? Or was it that he was too scared to let slip a vital piece of incriminating information, the sort of information that could lead to conviction for a double murder?

There were often snide comments made between and against members of the group. Some of these people just couldn't bite their tongue and had to throw in their two pennies worth. Some were just plain mean. But one person in particular caught Ben's eye.

Eve, a young lady, maybe early twenties, had the same aggressive streak as the others, but she was more about protecting the victims of the heckling from those who weren't so nice, more about using her aggressiveness to defend those who needed to be defended.

Ben received a couple of comments from a big guy sat a few seats away from him, nothing too strong, being told to speak up, speak clearly, the ruffian even mimicking Ben's well-spoken dialect. Eve took offence to this and stood up, pointed at the man and gave him a piece of her mind.

‘
Why don't you keep your stupidity to yourself for once, Trevor? Give the man a chance,’ she said, before smiling at Ben and sitting back down.

Ben had actually already finished. He had introduced himself, told them it was his first time here and admitted, rather falsely, he didn't know exactly why he decided to come.
Now under the spotlight, people had started to pay him attention after Eve's outburst, he became lost for words.

‘
There's nothing more,’ he mumbled, shaking his head, then glancing at Eve and mouthing the word 'sorry’.

She rolled her eyes and smiled to herself. Ben realised she didn't care whether he continued or not, she just wanted to put Trevor in his place.

Ben struggled to pay attention to what was going on around him. He'd had one of the worse days of his life, second only to that day he was told of his father's death, although he was aware that an unwanted visit by the police anytime soon would bump the day he lost his dad off the top spot.

His mind flickered from seeing his girlfriend, his
lover, his soul mate thrusting her clitoris into another man’s mouth, to a young lad falling into the canal, blood on his hands and a screaming teenage girl who just wouldn't shut up until her head had caved in on the concrete ground under the bridge.

And his
mother, his dear old mother who was surely losing her mind, yet seemed so convincing when claiming that his father had been a serial killer, an absurd accusation that would bizarrely explain the problems he was having with the voices, the face in the mirror, the rage he felt as he took two lives within the space of seconds.

Then sometimes he would glance across to Eve, and felt a wave of euphoria rise from the pit of his stomach whenever they caught each other’s eye.

Finally, Maggie looked at her watch. She was clearly tired, and probably asking herself why she gave up her time to help a group of people that in all likelihood could never be helped. Not that she would ever quit, deep down she was happy to at least be trying, for some people that is enough and she was one of them, a kind person who just wanted to help, even when it was futile. She checked her watch again and gladly called an end to the group meeting. Her work for the evening was done, she could go home and try to sort through some of her own problems, the type of problems that normal, nice people have to try to solve, like paying the bills, or deciding what to get the grandchildren for their birthdays.

Ben stood and was the first to leave. He emerged from the town hall and took a deep breath of the cool, crisp evening air. He pondered for a moment as to where he would go, home? No. His
mother's house? He couldn't deal with it. He tried to work out where the closest, cheap hotel was from here then felt a hand on his shoulder.

He turned to see Eve face to face with him. This time the feeling in his stomach was
the flutter of butterflies.

Eve was beautiful, or could be. She chose to wear dark make up and clothing, almost gothic, but she had a nice body, thin with ample breasts and the minimal skin that was on display looked soft and cared for.

She introduced herself to Ben, maintaining eye contact all the while, as she gave him a brief explanation as to why she attended the group. She told him that she did have anger issues in the past, but they were long gone, she was here to learn about human nature, to learn about the raw emotions of her colleagues in this great city.

Ben loved the sound of her voice. She was well spoken, well-educated clearly. Ben imagined the disapproval of the young woman's parents, not only of her dress sense but her choice in extracurricular activity.
He apologised for his apparent awkwardness earlier, explained that he'd had a difficult couple of months and an awful day.

Eve looked Ben in the eye and
placed the softest of hands on his cheek. He could have melted, or dropped to his knees and broken down in tears.

She felt his emotion.

He had never had this kind of connection in his life, not with Natalie certainly, and not with his mother, not even his father. He didn't understand why he felt this instant bond with someone who didn't amount to more than a stranger, nor did he have time to try and rationalise the situation before she opened her mouth to utter more words, exactly the words he had wanted to hear.

‘
Come home with me.’

17

Ben lay on the bed, a quilt covering his privates, but the rest of his body exposed. He was hot and sweaty, having just experienced the most passionate and sordid sex he'd had for a long time.

Eve was in the shower, in the small bathroom just the oth
er side of the wall behind Ben, under the falling water, wiping down her body, removing the dark make up and multiple bodily fluids from her skin.

She stopped the water and stepped out of the cubicle, the studio apartment was way too small for a bath tub. She dabbed herself dry then wrapped a clean white towel around her bod
y, covering her perfect breasts and her neatly trimmed pubic hair.

She
looked into the mirror before her, studied her face, the curves of her cheek bones, the shades of her skin, the brightness of her eyes. She always knew she was beautiful, and sometimes hated it. Not that she wanted to be less attractive, just not to be prejudged on her good looks. She wasn't a typical bimbo, and never was. She was complicated.

She went back to the main room and Ben watched as she t
ook a cigarette from the table. She sparked it up and positioned herself on the bed next to him. She didn't say a word as he studied her, just laid her hand on top of his and smoked her cigarette before stubbing it out into the dirty cup on the bedside drawers.

She then turned on her side and lay face to face with the man who thought he had met an angel. Maybe he had?

Ben hadn't thought about the day’s events from the moment she placed her lips on his as soon as they arrived back at her place. No more rushes of anger, no more guilt, no more confusion over his Father. Eve had somehow created a bubble in which he felt extremely safe inside.

They talked for an hour.

She explained that she dropped out of university just weeks before her final exams because she realised she didn't want to be part of 'the system'. She explained that she saw the world as an evil place where greed and power ruled over love and freedom. Ben realised how young and naive she really was, but didn't have the heart to tell her that things were the way they were, by putting her life on hold or sabotaging her future she was doing more damage than good.

He told her about the day he'
d had; losing his job, finding his girlfriend cheating, reacting angrily to strangers in the street. He was careful not to say too much and give too many details away. He made it sound more like an ever-so-slightly physical confrontation than a brutal double murder.

She spoke gently to him.

‘Nothing is unforgivable,’ she said.

He hoped she was right.

He felt relaxed when listening to her voice, until the sound of sirens became audible, not so far from the apartment block. They grew louder, and Ben felt a sudden nausea. Sweat began to bead on his forehead and his breathing became heavy. Eve noticed the mild panic attack, and placed her hand on his forehead, wiping his brow.

‘
Don't worry,’ she said, ‘I doubt the police will be coming to get you for an argument with some youths.’

She
stood and walked to the window.

‘
It’s a fire engine anyway,’ she said, as she lay back down beside him.

Slowly, Ben’s
breathing and heart rate settled down to normal, and he laid his head on Eve's shoulder. She softly stroked his arm as he drifted off to sleep, then she too closed her eyes and slept.

18

Natalie sat at the kitchen table, smoking a cigarette and staring into the coffee in front of her. This was a morning tradition for her, a moment of quiet before the day’s events, a time to go over the things that had being weighing down in her mind. She wasn't an early riser, this break from the outside world would always take place after Ben had gone to work, and with him at home for the last two months, she realised she missed this little piece of privacy.

And that particular morning
, she certainly had enough thoughts whirling around her head to warrant a time-out. She had no trouble sleeping the night before, even after the trouble with Ben and taking two clients yesterday, but she did feel exhausted still.

Also, she
had a new client to meet today, Mr Smith, recommended to her by a previous client, and this was always something that made her nervous. New clients put Natalie out of her comfort zone. Some clients are into some disturbing stuff, but she learnt to deal with the special requirements from each of them. There is always a risk that someone new may just be that bit too bizarre, too dangerous, or even just not discreet enough. But the bottom line was, as always, the bottom line. Also, the fact that clients didn't always come back, due to lack of cash flow, finding love elsewhere or whatever, meant that Natalie had to keep her ‘doors open’, so to speak.

The day before,
her situation had changed, or it could be changing very soon, and she had to take back some control, so she called Mr Smith and had arranged a little get-together late in the morning.

She
was snapped out of her deep thought by the sound of the post being forced through the letterbox. She collected them from the doormat, returned to the table and began to go through the mail, which started out as the normal assortment that one might expect; a bill here, a bill there, an advertisement made to look like something you need to open up and read as a matter of urgency, then finally, a crisp, white envelope addressed to Mr Benjamin Green, from a soliciting firm in the city.

She felt her stomach tighten.

Was he selling the house? Was he getting advice on how to throw her onto the street? Why was Ben getting a letter from a solicitor she didn't even know he had? How quick had he reacted to her indiscretions?

Her blood began
to boil.

What the fuck was he up to?

She put the letters onto the table and took the last drag on her cigarette before stubbing it out in the ashtray and draining the rest of her coffee. She stood, put the ashtray on the kitchen windowsill and rinsed the cup in the sink, flipping it upside down and placing it on the draining board. Grabbing the tea-towel and drying her hands, she turned around and stared at the letter to Ben.

She sat back down, picked it up and without a
nother thought, opened it to discover what her boyfriend was up to. Reading through it, the emotion she felt inside changed rather rapidly. She was no longer angry, nor confused. The letter had not been bad news at all.

Well, not bad news for Ben.

Two months after the death of his father, Ben had finally received a letter from Mr Green's solicitor, informing Ben of the sum of money left to him in the will. The money was now ready for transfer, upon presentation of this letter, bank account details, photographic identification and proof of address at the law firm’s office in town.

Nine hundred and fifty thousand pounds
.

Ben was just about to receive nearly one million pounds, and Nata
lie had just been caught betraying his trust in an awful manner in the home they shared. She felt an ache at the pit of her stomach, stood, rushed to the sink and vomited.

Natalie wiped the perspiration from her forehead then ran the cold tap and
took a sip before wetting her hands and dabbing them onto her face and neck. Slowly she regained her composure and stopped the running water. She looked at the opened letter sat on the table, then over to her bags that were packed and ready to go by the front door.

Suddenly, she moved with intent.

Ben's letter was put back in the envelope and hidden at the bottom of one of the kitchen drawers. She then headed straight for her bags, took them to the bedroom and unpacked them. The bags were then put back out of view, as if yesterday's planned evacuation had never happened.

Back in the kitchen, she took the phone and dialled Ben's number. The call was forwarded to voice mail, she left no message.

How things change in a day, she thought.

The morning was moving on faster than she would have liked. She checked her watch and knew she should start preparing herself
, to give the best impression to Mr Smith in the next couple of hours.

There was a chance she would never have to sell her body again, not that she could guarantee her
monogamy, but a financial independence where she could choose which men to sleep with regards to attraction to their looks and not their money, this excited her almost as much as sex itself.

She needed to get through the Mr Smith
rendezvous, then concentrate on sorting out her relationship with Ben, and ultimately, find a way of making his money hers.