The Rattler (Rattler Trilogy Book 1) (19 page)

1

Carl
left the girls and went back to work, but only after Vana promised to ring him
if Zoe’s situation changed. She was still resting, with Vana trying her best to
make her laugh. “You know once you’ve slept with a vicar?”

“Go
on – explain,” replied Zoe. Vana grinned. “Is that what you call a holy
fuck!
”

Suddenly,
a knock on the door interrupted their laughter, and a nurse brought in a man
and a woman. “Zoe, these are two police detectives, and they would like to ask
you some questions.” She looked at the detectives. “You’ve got five minutes –
that’s all.” With that the nurse left the room. Zoe and Vana exchanged glances.
What was this all about?

“Good
afternoon. My name is Detective Fairway, and this is my colleague, Detective
Grain. We would like to speak to Zoe alone, please.” Peter Fairway was a thick
set man, with a florid complexion and jet-black hair; he was wearing a dark
suit, pale red shirt and striped tie. His companion, Elizabeth Grain, was thin
featured, auburn haired, and wore a grey trouser suit and white shirt. Neither
of them beamed a smile.

“What’s
this about? Why are you here?”

“I’d
prefer to speak to you alone,” replied Detective Fairway, brusquely.

“Vana
is my best friend, and I want her to stay.”

“Alright,
as you please,” responded Fairway, and he stood at the bottom of the bed. Grain
positioned herself opposite Vana.

“How
did you know I was here?” asked Zoe, curiously.

“We
called at your house and your grandmother told us that you had just been admitted,”
replied Grain. The two girls looked at each other in bewilderment, and paled
visibly. “Did I say something wrong?” asked Grain, “you seem surprised.” Zoe
shook her head. Fairway continued. “Barbara Wilson is your psychologist,
correct?”

“Yes,”
replied
Zoe,
“is she... is she in some kind of
trouble?”

“There’s
no easy way of saying this,” he briefly looked at Zoe’s monitors, “and given
your current situation...”

“Please
just tell me.”

“Ms
Wilson is dead.”

“What?
Dead?” repeated Zoe, shaking her head, “are you sure it’s her? It doesn’t make
any sense. I only saw her yesterday.”

“She
was found murdered in her hotel room this morning.”

“Murdered?”
Zoe was unable to take all this in. Vana got up from her chair and moved to
take Zoe’s hand. “You guys – surely you can’t think that Zoe had anything to do
with this?” Fairway ignored Vana’s question. “We believe that the time of death
was approximately 9.30 am.”

“The time when I fell.”

“Yes.
Now, we know that you visited her yesterday afternoon as we saw your
appointment in her diary. This makes you the last person to see her alive,
apart from the people in the hotel. We just need to ask you if she mentioned
any special plans for last night. Was she meeting anyone?”

Tears
streamed down Zoe’s face. “No, she didn’t mention anything, only conference
stuff.”

2

Barbara
had led a Question and Answer session earlier on during the evening, and this
had been followed by dinner. She sat on a table of eight, surrounded by her
peers from around the country. Conversation flowed freely, along with
speciality wines which accompanied the delicious five-course meal. It had been
a long day, and Barbara was ready for bed, but, before that, she decided she
just needed some quiet time. She made her excuses, and headed off to the piano
bar where a young pianist played a selection of music from popular West End
musicals – ABBA’s song,
Mamma Mia,
was certainly the highlight of the
evening. She slowly sank down into a soft, richly upholstered Brocade sofa and
ordered a Bacardi and Coke, which the barman brought over immediately.

Her
drink finished, Barbara got up, smiled her appreciation at the pianist, and
walked back through the Reception Hall to the lift. As she arrived at her
suite, Barbara unlocked the door, walked in, and locked the door behind her.
She had a quick freshen up, removed her make-up, and went straight to bed.

The
next day dawned, and Barbara awoke to bright sunshine which lit up the room.
Quickly showering, she dressed, and then looked at the conference programme for
the morning’s schedule. She decided that she could not face chit-chat with her
fellow professionals, so ordered breakfast from room service. As she waited for
the food to arrive, she thought about Zoe’s visit the previous afternoon, and
made a mental note to text her after she had eaten.

Room
service duly arrived, and the porter carried in a large tray containing two
silver serving dishes. He set up the plates on the coffee table in front of
Barbara, and left.

“Pure
luxury – this place is certainly spoiling me!”

She
tucked into a delicious breakfast of fresh fruit, orange juice, scrambled eggs
and bacon, toast and marmalade, and plenty of good, strong, coffee. “I’ll have
to ask for the name of this coffee, it’s divine!”

3

As
she was putting the finishing touches to her make-up and collecting all her
papers together, there was a loud thump on the door. “I’ll be there in a
moment,” she called, putting her lipstick back into her handbag. The person
thumped on the door again. “Alright, I heard you the first time,” she shouted
crossly, thinking it was one of the other delegates who had latched on to her
the previous day.

Thump
on the door again. “Bloody peers,” muttered an exasperated Barbara, grabbing
her Mulberry handbag and laptop. As she opened the door she found, not Simon,
but an elderly, shabbily dressed lady.

“And
you are?” said Barbara.

“Expecting
someone else?” said the old woman, huskily. Barbara looked quizzically at her.
“Can I help you?” she asked. The dirty, unkempt old woman just looked her up
and down.

“I’m
sorry. I’m a tad confused. Who are you, again?” repeated Barbara.

The
old woman still said nothing, but just took a step closer to Barbara. As she
did so, Barbara backed up a pace, and tried to close the door, but Hagatha
stopped her. Barbara started to panic. What should she do? She thought about
the pepper spray she carried in her handbag since she had been plagued by a
stalker who had broken into her home some time previously. Could she get it out
in time? Her heart raced as she anxiously tried to open the bag. Her fingers
soon grasped the small, black spray can. She flicked the safety switch...

“It
won’t work on me,” echoed around the room.

1

Hagatha
pushed Barbara down the corridor and into the lounge, where she crashed against
the table. The remains of Barbara’s breakfast smashed to the floor, the dark
brown coffee making an ugly stain on the luxurious cream carpet. The old crone
pointed at the door. It closed. Still on the floor, Barbara felt the back of
her head. No blood. “Who are you? What do you want from me?”

The
woman sneered, and started towards her, menacingly. Barbara shuffled towards
the window, her whole body shaking with fear. Hagatha stood over her, and
glared with black, penetrating eyes. “She confided in you, but you didn’t
believe her, did you?” A frown crossed Barbara’s face.

“Who?
Zoe?”

“At
last, the farthing drops.”

“I’m
somewhat confused.”

Hagatha
cackled. “So, I’m not real? And this is all a dream?” she laughed. “People have
been pinching themselves for years, and I still didn’t leave. Pinch yourself –
are
you
dreaming?”

Barbara
frantically pinched her forearm. Nothing happened. “Guess I’m real then.”

2

Simon
was ready for the Conference. He came out of his room which was just down the
corridor from Barbara’s, paused to straighten his tie, then tapped casually on
her door. Barbara looked desperately towards the door. Was someone coming to
save her? She took a deep breath, ready to scream for help. Hagatha smugly
smiled at Barbara, and pointed one of her long, dirty fingers at the terrified
woman’s throat. Instantly Barbara felt her windpipe tighten; she tried to yell
Simon,
I need help!
but
no words came out – instead, she
mimicked a fish. Meanwhile, the lights in the suite, and in the corridor
outside, started to flicker; the old crone was drawing energy from the
electrical source.

Simon
knocked again, waited, then walked off in the direction of the lift. On his way
he bumped into one of the younger conference members, Vincent – all muscles and
stylish hair – who just happened to be leaving a female colleague’s room.
“Still no luck with Barbara? Give up mate!” grinned Vincent, as he sauntered
off to his own room. “How does he do it?” reflected Simon, suddenly feeling his
50 years.
“Another conference, another notch on his belt.
Wish I could be like him.”

“Good
morning,” he said to a lady as she waited for the lift. “You’re at the
Conference, right?”

“Yes,”
smiled Audrey, as they stepped into the lift. Audrey was an elegant lady who
had travelled from Leith, on the outskirts of Edinburgh, for this event. Simon
had overheard her talking to another member in the bar the previous evening
about her long journey down to London.

The
lift had just started its descent when, all of a sudden, the lights flickered,
dimmed, then went out, leaving the couple in the dark. The lift shuddered to a
halt. Almost immediately the emergency lights came on. “Why have we stopped!”
gasped Audrey, “what the heck is going on?”

“Not
to worry,” replied Simon, “it must be a power cut. I’ll ring down and see
what’s happening,” he said, pressing the emergency button.

3

Meanwhile,
the power surge gave Hagatha the strength to continue her attack. Barbara, to
her horror, found herself lifted from the floor and propelled into the
bathroom, where she hit her forehead with almighty force. Blood started to run
down her face and neck. “How can you be real?” she cried. “What do you want?”

“I
don’t want anything. I’m here because you know about me.
Invite any fears
you have into the room
– remember? I just obliged
.
”

“You
are real, I’m sorry. Please leave me alone.”

“It’s
too late for that now, my dear. I’ve already been summoned.”

Barbara
tried to struggle to her feet; she grabbed at the shower curtain. It gave way
under the pressure and she fell, backwards into the bath. Hagatha jumped on top
of the by now hysterical Barbara, who tried desperately to fight her off.
“HELP!” she screamed. Barbara knew that this was the end for her. Her final
thoughts centred
around
Zoe.

“You
harm her...”

“Somebody
has got to pay for what Mather did – and it is her.” Hagatha’s face lit up with
a ghostly, yellowy-blue glow. “You can’t kill the curse. The girls tried – and they
didn’t succeed. It’s time for your heart to stop...”

4

After
what seemed to be an eternity, the lift’s lights came on again, and the car
continued its descent. Relieved, the trapped man and woman smiled at each
other. “I thought we were going to die,” said Audrey. “Well, it certainly had
me worried, I can tell yer,” answered Simon. “Care to join me for breakfast?”

Little
did they know that the power coming back on marked the death of Barbara
Wilson.

Barbara’s
mutilated body was later found in the bath by the young porter who had earlier
brought up her breakfast. He had come back to her room to collect the tray and,
having knocked on the door a couple of times and got no reply, decided that she
must have already left for the Conference. As he entered the suite, he could
not believe the mayhem which opened up in front of him. Nothing could have
prepared the man for what he was going to find.

A
trail of blood led him into the bathroom where he found, to his horror, the
badly disfigured body lying in the bath. There were red marks around the neck,
and hollows where the eyes should have been. The young man was so traumatised
by his discovery that waves of nausea overcame him; he covered his mouth and
ran for help.

5

The
police arrived within minutes of the hotel’s phone call and immediately locked
down the whole floor. Detectives Fairway and Grain came out of the lift and
approached a constable stationed outside the room. “What have we got?” asked
Fairway. “The victim’s in the bathroom, sir,” replied the officer, trying not
to look too queasy – this was his first murder case.

The
detectives walked slowly into the suite, where they found the forensic team,
already dressed in their white boiler suits, working on the crime scene.
Fairway poked his head into the bathroom. There was blood everywhere. He was
puzzled to see the outline of a small footprint on the blood-covered floor. He
was even more puzzled to see an imprint of the other foot on the ceiling. The
sight of the mutilated body, lying in such a grotesque position, made Fairway
feel ill. He needed some air. He left Grain to start their investigations in
the suite whilst he examined the corridor outside for clues.

Simon
came out of the stairwell and tried to get to his room. “I’m sorry, sir,” said
the policeman. “This area is sealed off for the time-being.”

“I’ll
handle this,” interrupted Fairway. “Can I help you?”

“I’m
at the Conference, and I’ve just popped back for some documents. What’s
happened? Why are you all congregating in Barbara’s room?”

“You
know her?”

“Yes.
She’s a speaker at the Conference, but she never turned up this morning. We
thought she was ill.”

“And
you never considered checking if she was OK?”

“I
did. I knocked a couple of times, just before the power cut.”

“Did
you speak to the victim?”

“The victim?
Why are you calling her a
victim?”

“I’m
sorry to say, sir, that Ms Wilson is dead.”

“Dead?
How?”

“She
was found earlier in the bathroom. Now; answer the question. Did you speak to
her?” Simon slumped against the wall. “She didn’t answer the door.”

6

All
the guests were questioned and had their fingerprints and DNA taken. Fairway
thought that Simon could be a prime suspect but, upon further probing, it
transpired that he had a good alibi. He had been using the hotel’s telephone
for over an hour whilst he chatted to his mother who lived in Newcastle, and
then he was trapped in the lift with Audrey.

This
was not going to be an open and shut case.