ABEL'S REVENGE_A gripping serial killer thriller like no other Page 9

  Christmas is over for another year. We had our usual big day row but otherwise we emerged unscathed. Somebody peed on the tree. Blame was thrown around like confetti, but the jury (Olivia and Grace) was unable to convict any of the accused (Charlie, Bailey and Me) due to the fact it could have been any of us. Two of my presents were soggy but I daren’t complain.

  I was so hungover boxing day, that I went to take the dog for a walk, but left without him. I came back in a panic to find him on my side of the bed. As always, the holiday passes in a blur, and before I know it, the dreaded commute is here again.

  I have the misfortune to bump into the milkman as I leave for work. I go out of my way to avoid him as well, but am trapped for the second time at my front door. Olivia has been using him for years and says it makes the area homely. The supermarket is miles cheaper, but she reckons if we cancel as well, then the old people around here will lose a service and a friendly face. That’s a reasonable argument apart from the fact he is, to put it lightly, angry.

  He has enormous arms above a narrow waist and a nasty habit of leaning towards you in a threatening manner when he speaks. Olivia tells me his hairstyle is a top-knot in the fashion footballers have. Acceptable for them, maybe, but our guy is older than I am. His thick Scottish accent adds to his menacing demeanour as he questions me.

  ‘Did you hear there’s been another hit and run? A poor sod on a bike was ridden into from behind.’

  ‘Did they say it was Abel?’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘You’re up early, aren’t you? Haven’t you seen him on your travels?’

  ‘There’s many strange folk up in the wee hours. It’s best to keep to myself.’

  ‘I see.’ I do a theatrical look at my watch. ‘Well, I don’t want to be late.’

  ‘My missus is making me demented. She’s a cruel woman.’

  He’s standing in my way and I start to feel uneasy. We don’t have the kind of relationship where we moan about our other halves.

  ‘She said, and these are her words, “If you fail to give a man what he wants, he’ll go elsewhere”. I’m not getting any off her, so what does that mean? Is that a green light for an affair? Or is she accusing me of one?’

  ‘Hmmm.’ What is he going on about? ‘Don’t you milkmen get loads of offers from bored housewives?’

  ‘Sure, we do. I say no though. It will ruin wee Jonny’s life if his mother and me broke up.’

  If that makes any sense to you, then you’re brighter than me. I settle for an attempt at lightening the tone.

  ‘All women are crazy. They’re more interested in their child’s happiness than ours. What’s that madness, eh?’

  ‘You’re not wrong. You’re a smart guy. My name is…’

  He waves a hand around at what I hope is a wasp, or I’m in trouble. I wait for the word Abel to arrive, but instead he says Malcolm. I’m so relieved I make a joke.

  ‘We can call you The Malkman.’

  Wild eyes zoom in. Jaw muscles bunch.

  ‘You will call me Malc.’

  Clouds darken and the earth cracks before he smiles.

  ‘You’re Dan, aren’t you? Your wife told me. Lovely woman.’

  With that, he walks away. I watch as he picks up a massive crate of milk with one hand as though lifting a dropped handkerchief. Any conversation with him is intense, and I want to drink afterwards. Even if it’s only eight in the morning. I wait until he’s out of sight before I leave.

  Chapter 28

  Olivia

  We stand over the body of the father of my children. Dan perspires and twitches. His eyelids fight to keep his eyes in their sockets.

  ‘Why is he sweating so much?’ Rachel says.

  Her nostrils flare as she leans over the sofa to get a better look, as though she is expecting there to be a terrible smell. I suppose that wouldn’t be unexpected.

  ‘I’m not sure. Perhaps he’s ill.’

  Bailey cuddles up beside him, so they resemble a couple in love. One being slightly hairier than the other. The multitude of beer cans in the vicinity implies it’s a self-inflicted condition.

  ‘You must be so proud.’

  ‘Now, none of that.’ Nevertheless, I still laugh. ‘I’m worried about him. He was ashen-faced when he came home from work. He talks in his sleep, and I’ve even caught him sleepwalking. They’re cranking up the pressure because a company are looking over the accounts to see if they want to take it over. Otherwise, it will go into administration.’

  I reach over and pull two crisp wrappers from between the cushions. Next, I peel a half-eaten lolly off the armrest. Rachel raises her eyebrows.

  ‘The crisp packets are his. He doesn’t like getting up while watching the box, so he leaves them there with the thought of getting them later. Charlie has much the same idea with the lolly.’

  ‘Then, being pebble-minded males of the species, they forget?’

  Rachel pulls the curtains back to let in light and reveals two empty cans of cider. I pick up the used folded-up nappy he left on the fireplace. It only has wee in it, and no doubt he’d move it in the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours, but it still annoys me.

  ‘What if someone dropped in unexpectedly? Apart from the obvious burgling jokes, I’d be mortified if people thought we lived like this.’

  ‘But you do?’

  Horrible, but true.

  ‘Correct. I pity whoever ends up marrying Charlie. And he’s only three.’

  The ‘M’ word stops either of us laughing.

  ‘So, have you considered the move to California? It will be brilliant. They have amazing nurseries there. I can show you everything.’

  ‘Is it how I imagine? I want to live in a lighter place than here.’

  ‘I suppose. It’s still another city though. Skyscrapers, traffic, bullshit. Same useless men. Talking of which, have you revisited the topic with Sleeping Beauty here?’

  ‘We’re not getting on well enough to make such a trip. Maybe we need space and time apart. I’m worried he’ll have a mental collapse. We have the kids and Bailey to consider, too.’

  ‘Why not leave without him? The dog can see past his foibles. They stay here, and you see how you get on. Give it six months or so. Maybe he’ll find someone else.’

  ‘Stop that. He’s been having a lot of furtive phone calls lately. He says it’s just work stuff, but I’m not so sure.’

  ‘Weird. I can’t imagine anyone else liking him?’

  ‘Rachel! I decided not to go because I don’t want to desert my parents, but this Abel madness has unsettled me. I know it’s irrational, but Grace is on a trip to the zoo next week, and I’m worried.’

  ‘It is frightening. There’s loads of weird stuff happening. To my surprise, I’m looking forward to leaving.’

  Rachel gives me a hug and pushes my nose up to make me look like a pig. She’s been doing that since we were four years old, and it never fails to lift my spirits. She still finds it as funny now as she did back then.

  ‘Come on, cheer up. Where’s your chocolate hiding?’

  She holds my hand as she leads me through to the kitchen. I miss my best friend so much. She makes me feel normal, and that is something I haven’t been feeling of late.

  She opens the cupboard door under the sink and removes the row of cleaning bottles lined up at the front. The treasure is exposed. She lifts the Dairy Milk bar up in the air as though it’s Simba, being presented to the animals in The Lion King. I have to hide the chocolate in the house. Dan complains if I leave any in the fridge because he’s supposed to be on a diet. If he finds any, much like the wine, his brain short-circuits and he has to eat the lot in one sitting. Charlie and Grace will help if they are quick enough.

  Ten minutes later, we both give each other a disgusted smile. Bailey places his paws on the table and gloomily sniffs the empty packet. With an air of dejection, he picks his Bonio up and accepts there’s nothing else.

  Rachel groans. ‘It’s the devil’s delight, al
l right. Look at that. One thousand calories and I wasn’t even hungry.’

  ‘We have as much control as Dan. So lovely, but I feel weak-willed and worthless.’

  ‘Same here. Now where’s your secret, secret stash?

  Chapter 29

  Dan

  A month later

  It’s Saturday morning and the kids are at Olivia’s mum’s. Olivia is still going to work though. I was looking forward to last night as we had the place to ourselves. The plan was a few drinks, then the steaks I’d bought with a nice bottle of red, and maybe jiggery-pokery.

  Olivia left at 7:30 p.m. to drop the children off. The prep for dinner was finished, so I had a beer and a few peanuts, and watched the Friday evening game. Olivia returned at 9:45 p.m. By that time, the alcohol was gone, and I was having sleepy-slobbery. I woke up on the sofa with Bailey’s breath on my face at 3:00 a.m. We’re both still there.

  Nothing’s been said so far, apart from ‘good morning’ when she came downstairs and brought me a cup of tea. If we had any flowers or plants in the house, they would have died instantly with the unbreathable atmosphere.

  The argument is coming but oddly I’m not up for it. I don’t feel myself. I’m even more dopey, lethargic, and stressed than usual. Last night’s five hours sleep is the longest I’ve managed since that company started auditing the books. Although I’m unsure if alcohol-induced passing out counts. I feel like I spent the whole night running. It’s over four weeks since we had sex, too. That was the purpose of losing the kids for the evening, unless that’s another sign I misread.

  I can tell Olivia is in the shower because I hear the pump. It’s been whirring for ages. I daren’t mention it again, but she can’t be washing herself for that long. If she’s doing her hair, why not turn the bloody water off for that bit? The chance of my shower being better than lukewarm is zero.

  As she strides into the lounge, I note her weekend casual is smarter than my weekday best. She must have covered me with a blanket last night. I have an urge to pull it over my head to protect myself from the hail of criticism which is ready to descend.

  ‘Dan, I’m sorry about yesterday.’

  I swear I can sense Bailey relax at the same time as I do.

  ‘When I arrived at my parents, they asked me to stay for a drink. We ended up having an important, long chat.’

  This is going much better than I expected.

  ‘I told them about California. They told me to go. They thought I should take the opportunity. I argued, but they said they’ll be fine, and wouldn’t forgive themselves if I stayed because of them. Mum even offered to travel out on holiday for the first month or two to help me settle in.’

  ‘Great news. Sun, sand, and surf, here we come.’

  It’s only as I try to untangle the dog and me from the blanket, that my slothful brain recognises the word ‘me’.

  ‘That’s why I was late. I drank too much and walked back to clear my head.’

  ‘What?! That nutcase is roaming the streets, and you’re wandering half-cut in the drizzle.’

  ‘My dad said something similar, but you can’t let one man scare you from doing things in a city this size. He’d be getting what he wants.’

  ‘You are bonkers. Why don’t you start a running club? Call it Deathwish Joggers. You can leave at thirty second intervals so the killer surprises you in turn.’

  ‘You could come with me?’

  ‘To California, or for a run?’

  I receive half a sad smile.

  ‘I was talking about a run.’

  ‘Oh great. I can be at the front, no, the back would be far worse. I’d have a sore neck to match my aching legs from looking behind me. It’d force me to keep up even though the last time I ran anywhere was ten years ago when you told me my favourite lager was on offer at the shop.’

  My knees creak as I stand, adding weight to my argument. She attempts to lighten the tone.

  ‘I’ll cut a hole in the back of my shorts, so you have something to distract and motivate you.’

  ‘Nice. Let’s hope you aren’t on his list. Do you need to go to your parents’ and fetch the car?’

  ‘No, I haven’t time. Beau is coming to collect me from here.’

  She goes before I can see the expression on her face. Would Beau make a good serial killer? Unlikely, although I’ve heard it’s possible to kill people with kindness. My heart is still in my mouth, and I follow her to the door.

  ‘Is Beau here already?’

  ‘No, I’m taking Bailey for a walk.’

  ‘Wait up, I’ll join you.’

  I’m dressed in last night’s clothes, so slip my trainers on and catch up with her outside the house. We stride together, Bailey in between us, looking from one to the other as though all his wishes have been granted. We face forwards as we talk. The things we are ready to discuss won’t be easy to say, or hear.

  ‘Are you going to go to California without me?’

  ‘I’m thinking that way.’

  ‘And the kids?’

  ‘Yes, they’ll come with me.’

  I feel weightless. As though I could drift away. My hangover doesn’t allow me to present any reasonable counter-proposals. Is it for the best?

  We step aside to let an old couple pass. They are healthy and relaxed. They’re clad head to foot in the latest hiking clothes. The papers are always writing about poor old pensioners who have to choose between heating and eating, and are then found slumped over their two-bar fires six months after starving to death.

  Who knows where those people are because I never see them here. Even the retired folk here in this city make me think I don’t belong. This place is full of good-looking people – young and old. Clad in designer gear. I rub against their world like scrunched-up newspaper against glass. Grandma has the audacity to wink at me as she ambles past.

  ‘Is there anything I can do to change your mind?’

  She stops, and turns. Her eyes are clearer today.

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  At the park, uniforms are everywhere. A pulsing crowd lines up at some police tape. I hand the lead to Olivia and walk over to the scene. I don’t even need to ask what’s going on because there’s a conversation in front of me, audible to everyone.

  ‘Someone stabbed him in the neck while he sat in his car. The knife was sticking out when they found him.’

  ‘I know the guy who died.’

  ‘Who was he?’

  ‘Alf’s son, the one who was always in and out of prison.’

  ‘He was never going to make old bones.’

  I jump up to look over the people and see the milkman, Malcolm, being shoved into the back of a police car. As his head is guided in, I’m sure our eyes meet. I turn to check where Olivia is, but she’s gone.

  She must have set off home, so I do a kind of half-run and walk that I realise I’ve seen other middle-aged folk do. When did I stop running? Olivia has stopped further along the road and is talking to Pete the postman. I should be able to catch up, and then we can chat more before she leaves. I need to tell her I want us to go to California together.

  Chapter 30

  Olivia

  On the way back to the house, I collide with the postman as he steps from behind a hedge, and we both tumble to the floor. I know he could have been delivering a letter, but the look on his face indicates he was doing something weird. The surprise makes me drop the lead and I watch Bailey as he runs off home. I’m not too worried as he should wait at the front door. Pete lifts me up with a surprisingly strong grip.

  ‘Sorry, Pete. I didn’t see you there.’

  ‘Sorry, Mrs Flood. I didn’t see you either.’

  That annoys me when he calls me that like the rest. He delivers my bloody mail, so he knows my surname is Jones. He stares at me as if he wants to say something of importance. I nod to encourage him.

  ‘My name isn’t Pete.’

  ‘You don’t say. Dan’s always called you Pete. Have you told him?’

/>   ‘No, Dan’s a great guy. I think, you know, him and me could be friends, so I thought maybe it was a joke. Postman Pete!’

  I see. Dan is finally right about something; our postman is crackers.

  ‘What’s your real name?’

  ‘Joseph. Joseph Wickmeyer.’

  That sounds like the name of a Nazi war criminal hiding in Argentina. Now, I’m not sure if he’s taking the piss or not.

  ‘Really? You aren’t one of those people who are always changing their name by deed poll? You know, yesterday, you were Strawberry Cupcake, and next month, you’ll be Bernard Cat Killer.’

  He grins at me, in an unnerving way. Note to self, no more jokes with Pete.

  ‘Anyway…’ What do I call him? ‘Sorry again, I was distracted by whatever occurred at the park. It’s as though crime has rocketed. Did you hear what happened?’

  ‘Yeah, the guy was stabbed to death.’

  It’s the first time his face lights up to show he’s human. A sick one excited by murder.

  ‘They found another identical kill a mile away. They say it’s Abel.’

  ‘Oh my God. When are they going to catch him?’

  ‘I hear a few of the residents around here are thinking of setting up a security posse. You know, patrol the streets. I will sign up to it. I am skilled at taekwondo.’

  He isn’t smiling, so he must be serious. I step back as he looks as though he wants to show me a move. That’s brilliant. I recall the animal that Dan says he resembles. Instead of Kung Fu Panda making our neighbourhood safer, we’d have The Taekwondo Tapir. Everyone will sleep well tonight.

  I’ve never been so pleased to see Beau as he pulls up next to us. I love that he always opens the car door for me. He gives the postman a look that says keep away from my expensive vehicle. I turn and note Dan scuttling towards me in a geriatric bus-missing fashion. I consider waiting, but Bernard Cat Killer is hanging around like a bad smell, so I wave to Dan, get in, and we zoom off up the street.

  I remember the dog but presume Dan will let him in. Beau smiles at me in the way he often does. He’s such a handsome man. Even so, I try to stop myself looking, but it’s impossible, and my eyes glance at the space between his top lip and nose. It is small. I shake my head. Dan has me doubting everyone around me, including myself. We’re both going doolally.