The Teacher: A shocking and compelling new crime thriller – NOT for the faint-hearted! (10 page)

The Vicar

It was an unusually hot evening for August in Paris; the sticky heat was made even less bearable by the fact that wherever Reverend Stephen Collins tried to go, he was surrounded by hot and sweaty foreigners. He was working his way through the Pigalle district to get to the Hotel Shangri-La, the former home of the Bonaparte family that overlooked the Seine and the Eiffel tower, which was nothing like this run-down well-used part of town. He didn’t usually venture this way, knowing full well that this was the epicentre of debauchery in the city of Paris, but today he had visited Sacré Coeur Basilica in Montmartre. The air was so thick he knew the storm was imminent, as did the amblers who rushed for cover as a crack of thunder ripped through the air, they crammed together under the awnings in front of the various seedy clubs as the raindrops began to fall.

This wasn’t Stephen’s first trip to Paris and it wouldn’t be his last. When he had finally abandoned the school parish and renounced his faith in God he looked for something to reawaken his devotion to the church, but all he had found were yet more reasons to doubt the existence of God, himself being the most prevalent example he could think of. He would visit churches across Europe but quickly find himself in the wrong part of town, as if some instinct deep within him discovered these places without his knowledge. Within seconds the downpour was upon him, weighing him down, instantly wetting him through. The puddles on the uneven ground formed as though a tap were running into them. He dodged and jumped until he was on some sort of pavement.

Stephen’s wife, Ellen, had died of cancer several years ago and the loneliness had been too much for him. He was unlikely to find anyone like her again, anyone who could deal with him, put up with his self-destructive streak. He had heard of places like this in the gentlemen’s club he frequented back home, the men talked of the young beauties who were happy to give love and affection to an older man in exchange for a good meal and a few bob. When he had first visited Paris he had been shy, but these women knew how to put you at ease, they knew how to make you feel loved. He could walk into a bar and within seconds a girl a quarter of his age would be sitting and smiling at him, as if she had known him her whole life.

Tonight he was going to try somewhere new, it was too wet to make it to his usual haunt and a change was as good as a rest. He staggered away from the rain into a darkened club with a neon sign above the door and an arrow pointing inside.

‘Hello sir.’ An older Thai lady smiled perfect white teeth at him. He guessed she was the boss.

‘Hello.’

‘You want drink?’

‘Yes, please.’

‘You want girl?’ Her face took on a devilish, knowing look as she stared into his eyes. Even though everyone in these places knew the score, Stephen couldn’t help lowering his head and averting his eyes as he replied.

‘Yes.’

‘Sit, girl come.’ She ushered him to a booth in the corner of the room, the place was quiet, the rain scaring off the potential marks.

No sooner had Stephen sat down than a girl appeared at his side, she was beautiful, her face full of kindness, no make-up, just natural beauty. He fell in love for the third time this week.

‘Hello, Mr …’ She spoke in a soft voice, barely audible above the music that was playing.

‘Stephen.’ He smiled.

‘Hello, Mr Stephen, my name Lilly.’ Stephen doubted very much that her name was Lilly; he knew the women were advised to Westernise their names for the customers.

‘Nice to meet you, Lilly.’ She scooched up next to him and placed her delicate hand on his. She sat nervously for a moment.

‘You want come private room?’

‘No,’ Stephen said, almost offended. Not everything was about sex, he just longed for companionship, the kind that’s hard to come by for an old man like him, the kind where you don’t have to answer any questions about who you are and where you come from, the kind you have to pay for. He had tried the British escorts back home but they had offered very little in the way of friendship, with their false eyelashes and fake tans. He liked the Thai girls because they behaved like women should behave, with respect and dignity, and the language barrier eliminated the threat of deep conversation. British women were just too brash.

‘You come private room, I give sex to you.’ Lilly smiled.

He wanted her to shut up. If he closed his eyes he could block out this awful place, he could block out the reason he was here, but he couldn’t block out her voice. Her sweet sound was a painful reminder of his crippling loneliness and the fact that he was not only lonely but alone, totally and utterly alone.

‘You want me dance?’ she asked, a note of desperation in her voice. He could tell she was worried she wasn’t pretty or good enough, worried he would send her back and ask for a different girl; he was thinking about it but he knew what the consequences would be for her if he did that. He couldn’t do it. He saw the track marks on the inside of her elbows and realised that life was probably hard enough for Lilly already.

‘No, it’s OK, just sit with me.’ He just wanted the warmth of her hand on his, the contact. He thought about his hotel room and how good it would feel to fall asleep next to someone again, how good it would feel to wake up next to someone; all the things you take for granted when you’re married.

He wished he could go back and do things over, there was so much he would change; not just the way he had treated Ellen. He resigned himself to the fact that losing Ellen so many years ago had been punishment for the secret life he had led. People had come to him with their problems, searching for answers, and he had given them with resolve, with the certainty of someone who had all the answers, someone who believed in something bigger than himself. It had all been a lie though. He had feigned compassion and empathy, but behind closed doors he was a bitter lonely old man. Now he wanted someone to lie to him, to tell him that everything would work out, that there was a plan of some kind for him. Anything but this empty existence.

He looked over at Lilly, who was quiet and biting her lip, clearly unsure what to do with him if he didn’t want to fuck her. He was jealous of her simplicity, of the knowledge she had of her role. Her role was to be an object of desire for lonely old travellers, but he didn’t know what his role was any more. He hadn’t worked since he stopped being a vicar, and had been living off his modest pension. Thankfully he had married money so hadn’t needed to work after Ellen had passed. He had no friends and no family to speak of, except a nephew he had never met and probably never would. As far as Stephen knew he wasn’t special to anyone, except maybe to Lilly in this moment. She hung on his every word, waiting to do his bidding, ready to fulfil her purpose. Maybe she acted in the hope he would rescue her, would take her away from this place to a better life with him. But he was too damaged. Eventually he would hurt her like he had hurt Ellen, like he had hurt so many others. The kind of hurt that leaves physical marks. He wondered if his punishment was being alive, living with the memory of his past sins, always wishing for a second chance. But there are no second chances, not really. It was an unstoppable truth about Stephen, he was poison. That’s why he stuck to these short intervals to his loneliness; he knew he deserved nothing better.

Lilly put her hand on his thigh, his body did not respond how it would have years ago, if anything the pressure of that expectation made him feel even limper. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of money, sliding the notes into her hand under the bar, she put the money in her stocking and then proceeded to move her hand up his thigh. Part of him wanted her to carry on, but he had become superstitious since Ellen had died and he could just imagine her disapproving gaze looking upon him from the heavens. He didn’t want to disappoint her in death as much as he had done in life. Sometimes his conscience won this fight, sometimes the beast inside him did. Tonight the desperate look in Lilly’s eyes had made him reconsider, made him remember why he made these trips, or at least why he told himself he did.

‘No, thank you, Lilly, I have to go now.’ Lilly looked both hurt and grateful at the same time.

Stephen slid out of the booth and walked over to the madam at the pedestal by the door.

‘She no good? I got young girl, I got virgin.’

‘What? No … no, thank you.’ He pulled out more cash and gave it to her, it shut her up and he walked out, disgusted with himself, he should have gone to his regular bar, the girls there at least pretended not to be so completely helpless, at least they shot up between their toes.

He placed his key card in the slot outside his hotel room door. He was on the third floor and was looking forward to staring out over the city and being as detached from the rest of the world as he felt. He clicked the door open and the lights were already on in his suite. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, he felt his sixth sense kick into play, but he entered the room nonetheless.

He walked over to the seating area and saw a box on the table, gift wrapped with a bow on it. He sat heavily on the sofa, staring at the box in front of him, aware that his wet clothing was seeping into the luxurious white chenille. He wasn’t afraid to open the box, he knew what was inside – he had seen a box like this before, he had given it to someone once. He remembered the excited look on their face and then the fear and acceptance that had come as soon as it had been opened.

‘Are you still here?’ Stephen said.

‘Yes.’ A man’s voice came from behind him, it was deeper than he expected, older than he remembered, flat.

‘I wondered if I would ever see you again.’

‘You knew you would.’ Still flat, unforgiving, controlled.

‘Yes, I suppose I did. Are you going to kill me?’ It was a stupid question and Stephen knew it.

‘Open the box.’

Stephen looked inside the box and saw what he had expected to see – a collar, with a four-pronged metal bar attached to the front, two prongs at either end. It looked like a double-ended barbecue fork, one to stick in the neck, one in the chest. This was the exact collar, the exact box.

‘I’m glad you got away, for what it’s worth. I hoped you would be OK.’

‘Does anything about this seem OK to you?’ The voice cracked slightly, Stephen could hear the pain.

‘No, I suppose not.’ Stephen stood up slowly and removed his coat, throwing it on the sofa beside him. He stepped forward over to the window, looking out over the stunning illuminated city for one last time. He didn’t focus on the shadowy reflection that approached him from behind, he was not scared, he wasn’t going to run. ‘Room service have strict instructions not to bother me for a couple of days.’

‘I doubt it will take that long,’ the man said as he pulled Stephen’s hands behind his back and bound them together. He started to pull him towards the bedroom.

‘Can I just stay in here? I know I have no right to ask you for anything but I would like to stand here, if this is going to be it.’ He heard the man sigh and then he pulled Stephen over to the window and tethered him to a mahogany console table that was fixed to the wall. He wrapped the cord several times so the blood flow in his hands was restricted; they started to throb and Stephen thought of Lilly’s gentle fingers.

Then came the collar. Stephen lifted his head as the man placed it around his neck and positioned the prongs between his chin and his chest; the pressure to keep the head up was exhausting, eventually when his head dropped the wounds would not be immediately fatal, but they prolonged the suffering and the pain was immense. It wouldn’t take long though, not for Stephen, without his heart medication he doubted he would last the night and he was thankful for that. The heretics fork, that’s what this was called, that’s what would eventually kill him. He had to chuckle at the aptness of the name. From the corner of his eye he saw the man leave the room. This was it. He was truly alone now, and it was only a matter of time.

The Break

It had been a week since a complacent Ryan had been questioned and released. Officers were stationed outside his house round the clock and Adrian was under the watchful eye of the rest of the force. Just in case he decided to do something stupid. Adrian had been asked to go through all of his old notes from his previous investigation into Ryan Hart to see if there was any indication that he was planning on killing his father. He could see by the thoroughness of his notes when he had started to lose it – half-finished reports, limited descriptions and vague comments as well as one-word scribbles in his notebook that probably made sense at the time of writing. He had been through the case before, it had been pulled apart to try and secure a case of harassment against Adrian and there was nothing, he knew it, Morris knew it. Adrian was well aware this was all just a way to keep him busy, keep him out of the way.

Adrian left work and walked a different route to usual. He didn’t much fancy going home to be alone with his thoughts. He stumbled across a little pub, hidden away off the main streets, and it looked quiet so he walked in. He sat himself in the darkest corner he could find. It wasn’t his local, it wasn’t even a pub he had seen before. It was tiny and the clientele were obviously used to seeing the same faces night after night, but Adrian sat down nonetheless. He wanted to get drunk to the point where he couldn’t remember his name. He remembered this feeling from the last time Ryan Hart had been the subject of their inquiries. The need to disappear, to stop thinking because things weren’t adding up the way they were supposed to and he was so desperate to get Ryan off the streets. Something at the back of his mind was whispering to him, whispering what? He didn’t know. But there was something he was forgetting, something he was missing. Something. Something.

He had just finished his fourth pint when he decided this wasn’t enough of a distraction for him, he needed a little more tangibility, a little more human contact.

Adrian left the quiet pub and walked through the town, happy that he wasn’t working tonight. Outside the pubs the smokers gathered in order to get their fix, he could really use a cigarette around about now. He watched the familiar sight of people much younger than him making all the mistakes he had made a hundred times over and then some. The urge to misbehave that was almost compulsory in the hot, sticky evenings. When you could practically taste the pheromones in the air, the smell of fresh sweat pushing all the right buttons; making all of these carnal encounters a little easier to engineer. The men plying the girls with alcohol just to get them to converse. The fake smiles and compliments when everyone just wanted the same thing, to find that one special person so they didn’t have to go through this bullshit week in and week out. Adrian thought of how he had believed he had found that in Andrea, not realising that she had never felt the same. She knew she was destined for coffee mornings and designer shoes. Adrian was always a stepping stone, her rebellious phase before she settled down. He shook off the image of Andrea, it was no use thinking about her, she didn’t care about him so he couldn’t allow himself to care about her. And anyway, the Andrea he was in love with did not exist any more, she was a cold hard bitch these days and it was no act.

Back to the task at hand. Just outside of the very centre of town Adrian walked towards the prison and stopped at one of the many town houses that had been split into flats. The building itself was slightly dishevelled but still if you didn’t look a couple of hundred metres to your left you would have no idea that it was in such close proximity to a category B prison holding just over five hundred men. He rang one of the buzzers.

‘Hello,’ a woman’s voice came over the intercom.

‘It’s Adrian.’ The buzzer sounded and Adrian pushed his way inside. The first door was open and Denise Ferguson, the desk sergeant, was leaning against the frame, holding a large glass of wine. She looked at him apathetically.

‘I wondered if I was ever going to see you again … here at least.’

‘Were you expecting company?’ He nodded to her short satin nightdress.

‘I never know when to expect company,’ she said with a pinch of bitterness, before opening the door wide and wandering inside herself, obviously waiting for Adrian to follow.

He sat on the sofa and watched her as she poured him a drink from the crystal decanter that occupied her white dresser. The whole room was white, or off white, or any other variation of white you can think of. She was either pretending to be angry or she actually was annoyed at him, to be honest he didn’t care either way. He knew she probably didn’t care either. The evenings always ended the same.

Denise had a short, almost masculine haircut, bright blue eyes and at work she always wore blood-red lipstick, but at home she was natural, he preferred her that way. Their relationship, if you could call it that, had started around two years ago. It was an informal arrangement. Strictly business. He hadn’t had sex with her since before he had been suspended, usually they only got together after a particularly long day at work. They didn’t flirt at work, in fact they barely acknowledged each other. No clandestine meetings or furtive glances. It wasn’t because they had anything to hide, it just wasn’t a big deal. It was convenient. The downside of course being that there was no passion, just a perfunctory fuck every few weeks.

Adrian walked over to where she was standing with her back to him. He came up behind her and took the drink she had poured him from her hand, pressing her against the dresser with his groin as he drank the neat scotch. He slammed it back down and trapped her hands underneath his, she arched her back and pushed back in all the right places. He kissed her neck and she moaned, letting go of whatever residual anger remained after being overlooked for so long. She tried to turn around but he kept his hands firmly on top of hers. The glasses on the dresser clinked and clattered as he continued to grind against her. Finally he released his grip, her hands were red from the pressure he had put them under. She turned to face him in the little space he had given her to move, brushing every surface of hers against him. Breathless she kissed him on the lips and he grabbed at her thighs, hoisting her up on to the side. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he kissed her back, deep and hard. He took her hands and held them behind her in one of his; his other hand on her throat, gently squeezing. This was her preference, and not his, but he was a pleaser, he liked to do what they liked, he was adaptable. She didn’t like to mess around, her hand went straight to his belt and she undid it deftly. It wasn’t long before he had picked her up again and thrown her on the white leather sofa. For all intents and purposes she was ready to go, clawing at his fly to get it open before this rare moment of urgency passed. Maybe it was because he hadn’t been with her for months or maybe it was because he had had a particularly bad day, but it was over as quickly as it had started. The slightest amount of friction set him off, he didn’t even have time to pull out.

‘Sorry,’ he said, disingenuously.

‘I told you I’m on the pill.’ She exhaled as he stood up.

‘Yeah, well, I’ve heard that one before,’ he said, a little less affably than he should have.

‘Don’t worry, Officer, I’m not the maternal type.’ She pulled her nightdress down again and got up to get another glass of wine.

‘I should go,’ he said, half embarrassed but more concerned with the idea that she may want to ‘talk’.

‘Of course you should,’ she huffed.

Adrian walked over to her and put his hand at the nape of her neck. He could feel the prickles of her short hair as she leaned into his palm like a cat who relished even the smallest bit of affection. He tilted her head towards him and kissed her again. He could taste the wine on her lips.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered.

He ran his hand down the front of her body slowly until he reached the top of her thigh. Sliding his hand between her legs slowly until she came closer. The viscous liquid he had left behind just moments before clung to his fingers as he moved them against her. Adrian kissed her neck and felt her exhale, making sure he was using just the right amount of pressure to cause those involuntary shudders. Steadying herself against the table she shook occasionally at his touch but he knew to wait, not to go too fast. He kissed the top of her shoulders and kept kissing in towards the collarbone until she squirmed. He pulled back and looked at her face, her eyes were closed and her brow furrowed, concentrating on the rhythmic movements of his fingertips. Faced with the sight of her breathless in front of him, his body responded. Her skin was aglow with a dewy perspiration. He pushed her up against the wall and kissed her hard before biting her neck gently at first then hard enough to draw tiny gasps from her lips. His body was close to hers now. He leaned against her to help her stay upright as his fingers worked with increasing vigour. She fought to keep her balance, digging her nails into his back as he pushed deeper until she finally wilted, loosening her grip and catching her breath at the same time. He waited a moment, revelling in the warmth of their connection, before pulling away slowly, giving her time to adjust to standing on her own again.

He went over to the sink and washed his hands, the connection broken again, the interaction finished.

‘Why don’t you stay …’ she asked when she could speak again.

‘I can’t tonight. Maybe next time,’ he said, not sure what else to say. Not wanting to be completely cold.

He felt like a shit but he left anyway, she could handle it, she knew the deal. This was just how it worked between them, the only way it could work. He had to battle out his demons alone before he subjected anyone else to them. He needed to get a handle on this case, it was time to stop fucking around.

It was Adrian’s turn to buy the cigarettes – he had absolutely promised – and it wouldn’t be long before Grey turned up. He left the house and looked up at the sky, it was white and there was a chill in the air despite it being late August. In weather like this the tower of St Thomas’ church loomed over the compact terraces like an agent of doom. The white clouds rolled against the white sky in what felt like a stop-motion movie reel. Not the best day to have a hangover. Even though there wasn’t a glimmer of sunlight it hurt to look up, it hurt to look anywhere. Adrian wished he had worn his shades.

He stumbled into Uncle Mac’s, the corner shop at the end of his road. He stumbled because it was stacked floor to ceiling, with a small path carved out between all the products. It was a precarious task to move from one part of the shop to another without a mass of biscuits falling from the sky. He grabbed some milk and some bacon and headed over to the tiny counter. A young woman emerged from behind the giant chewing-gum racks that ran from the counter to the ceiling. She processed the items without looking up and put them into a blue carrier bag.

‘Twenty of those as well, please.’ Adrian pointed at the brand he knew Grey smoked.

‘Twenty.’ Her voice cracked as she copied him, he watched her lips as she silently mouthed the word over and over again. She put the cigarettes in the bag, too.

‘I haven’t seen you in here before, are you new?’ He leaned down to get eye contact, she looked at him then looked away nervously.

‘Yes, I’m new.’ Her accent wasn’t quite the same as Dimi’s, the store owner.

‘Are you a member of Dimi’s family? He has a lot of family, huh?’ Adrian smiled.

‘Yes, family.’ She kept her answers short.

Adrian pulled out his wallet to pay and he saw her eyes flash with fear as she saw his police badge. Dimi had told him before of the corruption of the police force in his home country. Adrian was embarrassed; he paid and closed his wallet quickly. He was ashamed that there were people in his position of power, albeit limited, who used it to manipulate and harm. If you can’t trust the people who are meant to be looking out for you, then who can you?

‘Keep the change.’ He handed her a twenty-pound note. He liked Dimi but he was a penny pincher, always thrusting out-of-date products in Adrian’s face at the counter. One time he wouldn’t let him leave the shop until he had purchased a crate of cat food tins, and he didn’t even have a cat. He was a persuasive old bugger all right. As Adrian walked out of the shop he heard the music blasting from Grey’s car before he saw it. He rushed over and got in, the bacon would just have to sit on the back seat all day.

Adrian burst into DCI Morris’ office. Morris was sitting at his desk staring down at the phone and rubbing his temples. He looked exasperated. The deep creases around his eyes were exaggerated by his frown.

‘Sir, this is ridiculous. I know Ryan’s history better than anyone else in this building and while you lot are all playing catch-up he’s still out there living it large. He’s making a fool out of us!’

Grey sauntered in behind Adrian, hanging back just enough to avoid being caught in the crossfire.

‘Do you know who I just got off the phone with? The IPCC, Adrian. We’re still hurting from your last run-in with Ryan Hart, we’re lucky his lawyers didn’t go for financial restitution. If we put you on the case too they will have your badge, maybe even mine! Can you imagine the newspapers if the Police Commission weigh in on this?’

‘Let me worry about my badge, sir, there is no one who wants this bastard put away more than I do. I’ll stay under the radar.’

DCI Morris stood up and leaned over his desk, staring Adrian straight in the eye.

‘Miles, they want to send someone from the NCA down but I’ve promised them I can handle it. At this point, handling it means handling you as well, they made that very clear.’

DCI Morris sat back down in his chair. He wasn’t shouting any more, that was a good sign.

‘Just let us look over the files, sir, the new ones, too.’ Grey stepped forward. ‘What harm can that do?’

‘Grey, you keep an eye on him, don’t let him drag you down at the same time. All eyes are on us at the moment. I’m not stepping in for you next time, Miles.’