Nothing but Meat: A dark, heart-stopping British crime thriller Read online

  ‘Little bear,’ he repeated, somewhat disappointed at its meaning.

  ‘You don’t like it?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Being called Little Bear?’

  The boy shrugged.

  ‘That’s okay,’ said the man. ‘Just remember, even Grizzly’s start out small.’ The boy understood and the man continued, ‘You’ve been here before Bärli,’ he said. ‘I know, because I’ve seen you.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter when. What matters, is that they’ve found her and you need to leave. As do I. It was nice to meet you Bärli.’ He turned from the boy.

  ‘Wait, you saw her too?’

  He paused and looked around. ‘Don’t come back here Bärli. The pigs have snuffled at the dirt and who knows what they’ve found.’

  ‘They won’t find anything. I was careful.’

  ‘Good, you should always be careful. Complacency and bad luck are the most likely causes of one’s downfall and you can’t control your luck. Remember Bärli, you will grow into a Grizzly but you also need to be invisible. Like a ghost. If they never see you they will never catch you.’ He turned away. ‘Take care Little Bear,’ he said as he vanished into the foliage. ‘Weidmannsheil. Or should I say, good hunting!’

  The boy stood alone, facing the direction the man had taken and repeated the words in a whisper, ‘Good hunting.’

  His angel stayed with him in his mind and kept him company during the sleepless nights spent worrying whether he had been careless and left part of himself on her flesh and if so, had the police found it and would they come knocking?

  He had always been careful and was sure he had got the better of them.

  ‘Complacency and bad luck are the most likely causes of one’s downfall and you can’t control your luck,’ the man had said and his words had stayed with him.

  The boy had touched and kissed every inch of her body and yet he was sure he had been clever enough not to leave any traces of himself upon her. The man had warned him, ‘The pigs have snuffled at the dirt and who knows what they’ve found,’ but it seemed to the boy that the pigs in blue were easily outwitted. Not just by him but also by the man with the German accent, the man who, the boy was sure was the one who killed Angela Baily.

  The man had called him Little Bear and told him he would grow into a Grizzly and that excited him. But the man had also told him to be invisible like a ghost and so a ghost he would become.

  ‘If they never see you they will never catch you,’ he whispered quietly to himself.

  14

  Simone pulled up outside West’s father’s house and climbed out of her car. She heard the music immediately. The fast and aggressive rock music was thumping into the street and it conjured images of tattoos and gnashing teeth and long black hair plastered on sweaty foreheads. She vaguely recognised it as one of the bands she used to listen to in her youth; Slayer she thought, but couldn’t be sure.

  It was a swelteringly hot mid-afternoon, and the heat combined with the harmonic squeals and double-time drum beats that viciously reverberated into the street caused Simone to relive memories of sweating profusely in loud, smoky rock clubs with Nathan.

  She saw that people were gathering on the street in crowds; loads of kids and their parents getting ready for the eclipse, all clutching pinhole viewers made from cardboard boxes and paper. As she approached the house Simone was acutely aware that the music was spoiling the afternoon for the whole neighbourhood and from the corner of her eye she saw a man in his front garden stop setting up his camera tripod and begin to walk towards her. The man was in his sixties and was wearing scruffy gardening clothes; he removed his floppy hat and dabbed his forehead as he approached.

  In contrary to Jung’s suggestion, Simone planned to go to the station after visiting West and it was clear the man had spotted her uniform when he said, ‘Bloody racket! I was about to ring you lot but it looks like I’m not the only one that’s had enough of it.’

  She wasn’t going to correct his assumption that she was there in an official capacity.

  Face ruddy with the heat and frustration he continued, ‘It’s not like Mr West to make a racket like that. You want to make sure it’s not vandals.’

  ‘I will, thanks for your help.’ She turned towards the house but the man kept pace with her. She stopped and turned to him; the sun was in his eyes and it made him squint at her. He meant well, she was alone and he was being chivalrous; as far as he was concerned she was stepping into the unknown. ‘I’ll take it from here sir, this is police business.’ She nodded towards his garden. ‘You go back and get ready for the eclipse. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to miss it.’

  He opened his mouth to protest but Simone cut him off and distracted him before he had chance to speak. ‘What exposure rate are you going to use?’

  He frowned.

  ‘For your camera, I noticed you were setting up a tripod,’ she explained.

  ‘Um, I’m not sure yet, I was going to play around with it and see what I get.’

  ‘Good idea. Three-seconds I reckon. I hope you get the shots you want.’

  ‘Are you sure you don’t need help?’

  ‘I know what I’m doing,’ she said.

  He looked unsure but complied. She waited by the side of the road, watching him until he was close to his garden and made her way up the path to Jack West’s house.

  The volume of the music inside was making the windows vibrate and knocking on the front door would have been pointless so she walked around to the rear of the house. The sliding door that overlooked the patio was open and she stepped through it and into the dining room. Simone hadn’t been in this house since her early teens, and although it felt strange, it felt oddly comforting too. It seemed little had changed inside over the years but she didn’t have the time, nor the ability to reminisce as the heat inside the house was unbelievably stifling, it had been pushing thirty degrees outside but even with the windows open, there was something unnatural about the temperature inside the house.

  She followed the intensely thunderous volume through the house until she reached its source and when she pushed the door open she was hit not only by the high end clarity of squealing guitars and the guttural grunting vocals but also by an incredible heat, if she thought the rest of the house was warm it was positively cool in comparison to the blast furnace that was once the lounge.

  Nathan was sitting forwards staring intensely at the roaring flames of a raging fire in the hearth. He held a long brass poker loosely in his hand, he was bare-chested, his skin was glistening with sweat and he hadn’t noticed her enter the room. The wall of sound pummelled Simone’s eardrums and the bass drum pounded in her chest like a living creature struggling to get out. Simone could feel the amplified distortion against her skin, creeping over her in a prickling evil that deadened her senses.

  She walked further into the room and carefully into Nathan's peripheral vision. She was aware of the poker in his hand and was conscious of not walking straight up to him and taking him by surprise.

  He registered her movement and quickly spun towards her, she saw his bloodshot eyes and the grief clearly etched into his face. When he saw her he dropped the poker silently onto the floor and stood. His naked torso bore a lifetime of scars; the permanent penance for his addiction. Scar tissue covered his chest and forearms and as the music drowned them her eyes flicked from the damaged skin to his face and back again. He pulled her towards him and kissed her passionately and she kissed him back. She wrapped her arms around him and felt the heat that emanated from his body and a surging desperate sensation to become part of him, to melt into him oozed into every part of her being.

  She found herself on the sofa with him above her looking down into her face, she was aware of his gaze and became suddenly conscious of how she looked to him and couldn’t imagine anyone finding her attractive. Not only was she insecure about the bruises and scabbed cuts that decorated her face, Martin’s use of violence and mi
streatment during their pathetic excuse for a marriage had eroded her self-esteem and now she self-consciously covered her face with her arm.

  They were together drenched in sweat and sound, their passion frantically spiralling until the music suddenly stopped and the room fell into an abrupt silence that was somehow just as deafening, and then, as if hit by an unexpected realisation of their situation Nathan’s rhythm ceased. Simone moved her arm away from her face grabbed the back of his neck and gazed into his eyes, she gasped desperately, ‘Don’t stop.’ He looked at her with love in his eyes, his pupils deep black pools within which her reflection swam. The connection between them was beyond physical and as he moved in to kiss her lips she felt the flowing undulation of muscle coursing beneath his skin and he resumed their love making at a slower, more languid rate.

  Somehow she became aware that the natural light in the room had begun to dim and the fire had grown brighter. It flickered against the mirror of sweat that coated their skin.

  Nathan moved to kiss her shoulder and neck and as the heat built inside her she found herself biting down on the knuckle of her index finger. She had wanted to be with Nathan for as long as she could remember but the pleasure she now felt remained bottled inside and she couldn’t allow herself to release it. It was as if any confirmation of pleasure would steel this moment from her and send her back to the barren desert of her life.

  She bit down harder on her finger ignoring the pain as it shot through her arm.

  She had become used to the nothingness of being roughly pawed in the darkness by a man who claimed to love her but was still prepared to beat her to a pulp at any given moment. The rarity of pleasure she felt when she was with Martin was tainted with the shadow of violence that would inevitably follow.

  Except for the glowing fire the room had become dark as the sun and moon aligned perfectly and now shadows danced on the ceiling. As Nathan kissed her neck she listened to his breathing and the crackle of the fire in the still of the room and then she heard his voice as he whispered in her ear. He had seen her biting down on her finger, holding herself tightly within and when she heard his words, ‘Let go,’ come to her in a breathless whisper that caressed her ear she cried out from the base of her throat with a sound completely foreign to her; it came in a loud guttural release of pleasure so alien she wasn’t sure she had made it herself.

  Afterwards they lay together and with words unspoken they both knew that the inevitable had happened, from the moment they were reunited in the coffee shop the situation they found themselves in was an unavoidable one. Simone knew her marriage had been a mistake from the beginning and now it was officially dead. She had just made love to the only man she ever really loved and for better or for worse she was not going to go back to her husband or the sickness that was her marriage. She knew her life had changed; and she wasn’t fooling herself when she considered that everything had changed for the better.

  In the temporary darkness West brushed a hair from her eyes and kissed her forehead. He said, ‘Imagine if the sun never comes back out.’

  Simone watched his face, his eyes and his lips and she kissed him, relishing the contact. ‘It’s already come back out,’ she replied.

  The fire died slowly and nothing beyond that room existed as they made love again throughout the remainder of the afternoon. Simone was so comfortable and relaxed in his company the feelings of peace and satisfaction were so foreign she could have been mistaken for a different person. The knowledge that she was going to have to tear herself away and go back to reality was the only nagging sensation she felt. And it was always going to come too soon.

  ‘I have to leave in a while,’ she said reluctantly while sliding a slow hand over West’s glossy back. Their flesh was liquid, her hair matted and wet. ‘I need a shower too.’

  He understood and sat up but she made no effort to move, she just lay back with her head on the arm of the sofa and her legs across his lap. They looked at each other, silently enjoying the feeling of being together post coital and naked. No words were necessary. No words were suitable. He squeezed her knee and said, ‘Come on Sim.’ He lifted her legs away and stood up. He took her hand and helped her to her feet. Their moment together was over and she almost felt like crying.

  They went upstairs and resisted the temptation to migrate into the bedroom. They showered and dressed and then, with an air of reluctance said goodbye with one simple kiss.

  15

  Simone went straight home and saw with dismay that Martin’s car was in the driveway. She had really wanted to get home before him so she could have another shower and figure out how to act in front of him. She had always been a bad liar and she needed time to slip into the role of submissive wife. She couldn’t remember if she was supposed to be angry with him or not, she was just tired of wasting her emotions on him.

  She let herself in and said, ‘Hi,’ as loudly and as casually as she possibly could. She was convinced he would suspect something if he saw her with unkempt hair and zero make-up and all she wanted to do was go straight upstairs and put on her disguise.

  He called her through to the kitchen.

  ‘You’re home early,’ he said brightly when she walked in. He was leaning against the sink with his hands in his pockets.

  She knew she looked a state and thinking of reasons why had been her main consideration, she hadn’t had the time to elaborate her excuses and her mind went blank when she tried to concoct reasons as to why she was back earlier than usual. She didn’t think about what she was going to say, she just began to speak, desperately wanting to appear natural but feeling that every movement she made seemed false; even her voice sounded strange to her. ‘They’ve decided to rotate shifts,’ she lied. ‘It’s the only way to give people time off.’

  He pushed himself away from the sink and walked towards her. She dreaded him coming too close, her lips felt tender and swollen from an afternoon kissing and even though she had showered she was convinced Nathan’s scent was all over her.

  Martin closed the space between them and kissed her on the lips and as she responded weekly his arms snaked around her waist. Their kiss died and he moved his head beside hers, he rested his chin on her shoulder and breathed deeply through his nose. She felt a surge of dread rise like bile. Oh my God, she thought, I smell of sex and he can sense it.

  Martin’s lips were right next to her ear, and when he spoke he spoke ever so quietly.

  ‘Who’s been here?’ he said with a hissing tone so dark and ominous it was like being alone in a haunted house when the power goes out.

  She tried to move away from him but he continued to hold her tightly. She looked over his shoulder and at the breakfast bar and at the two glasses she had neglected to tidy away after sharing a drink with Jung.

  He repeated. ‘Who’s been here?’

  ‘No one,’ she said with phony confidence.

  ‘No one?’

  ‘Well, just a work colleague.’ She shimmied free from his grip and took a step back. His face was flushed with anger and his eyes intense embers.

  ‘Was he in my house?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘You fucking know who. Have you had him in my house?’

  ‘No. Never.’

  He stared and stared, barely blinking, computing her reply. His eyes flicked around her face. ‘Why do you look like shit?’

  ‘Thanks. I love you too.’

  ‘Answer me.’

  She sighed and before she could reply Martin’s fist slammed into her nose.

  One minute she was upright, hands on hips preparing to relay the events of the morning that led Jung into their home and the next she woke up on the floor. The seconds in between were blank.

  Her shoulder was numb; she must have hit the wall before the ground. She could taste blood in her mouth and spat onto the floor. He stood above her loosening his belt.

  Simone began to stand, one arm outstretched towards him, gesturing for mercy. ‘Let me explain,’ she said. She was shaky an
d ready for him to push her back down but he didn’t. ‘Please Martin.’

  His leather belt flicked slickly through the hoops as he slid it slowly from his waist. ‘Go on,’ he said pretending to give her a chance even though nothing she could say would change what was about to happen.

  ‘Nathan West has never been in your house, not ever, and he sure as Hell wasn’t here today,’ she said as she managed to stand upright without interference. The feeling of dread she had felt before he knocked her to the floor had been replaced with one of anger, and now she had managed to stand up straight, anger was teamed with confidence. The contrast between the contentment of being in Nathan’s arms and the shooting pain in her nose from Martins fist had clicked a reactive gear into place and she wasn’t going to let him hurt her ever again. She may not have been able to win the physical battle but she had done something that afternoon that would crush Martin emotionally if he ever found out. Now she could realise his worst fears with words alone she no longer feared him; not in the long term at least. She only needed to tell him what she had done and to leave him forever and she would win the war for good. This realisation of what could be caused her to suddenly laugh out loud in a mad hysterical burst he neither expected nor understood.

  The unexpected outburst caused shock to register on his face and he had no time to disguise it. ‘Do you want to know why he wasn’t here today?’ she continued, mentally gauging the distance from the wall and making invisible adjustments to her weight. ‘Do you?’

  ‘Why?’ he said through gritted teeth.

  ‘I spent the afternoon with him at his father’s house. Do you want to know what we were doing all afternoon?’

  Martin didn’t speak, he just lifted his chin in a failed attempt to become taller and more masculine and in that tiny moment Simone used his insecurity about his height to hurt him. She stepped forward, putting her whole weight behind the blow and punched him in the throat as hard as she could. She felt the scrape of stubble and the bumps of his Adam’s apple under her knuckles and he instantly dropped to the floor with both hands around his throat, his eyes bulged wetly and his mouth became a perfect circle. She stepped around him and kicked him with a stamping motion directly between the shoulder blades and watched with relish when he crashed face first into the wall.