Nothing but Meat: A dark, heart-stopping British crime thriller Page 2

  ‘It’s been a busy day.’

  ‘Don’t get sarcastic with me,’ he said.

  She moved further into the room and into his line of sight, he looked at her with a hint of disgust. ‘What happened to your face?’ he said, but it was just words, he wasn’t interested in her reply and before she could answer he turned his attention back to the television. ‘I ordered pizza,’ he said, ‘there’s some left in the kitchen if you want it.’

  She went through to the kitchen to find one half chewed slice of pizza remained; it was cold and congealed and stuck to the cardboard like an island in a sea of grease. Simone ignored it and went upstairs, she stripped out of her filthy clothes and sat on the edge of the bath, she closed her eyes and for one sweet moment the calming scent of lavender bubble bath and the delicious soothing heat of water running over her fingers took her mind away from the pain in her lip, her aching joints and her disastrous marriage.

  ‘I told you to ring if you’re going to be late.’

  Her eyes snapped open. He was in the bathroom with her, leering at her. She stood to face him, she was naked; it made her feel vulnerable and he knew it. She tried to cover herself as much as she could and said, ‘I forgot. I was too busy.’

  The water thundered into the tub and her heart pounded in her chest, his eyes narrowed as he moved in close to her, even with bare feet she had a couple of inches on him and she looked down at his tight jaw and his stocky frame. She could smell his breath and turned away but it was a mistake to take her eyes from him. He punched her hard in the stomach. Simone was completely unprepared for the blow, her lungs emptied in an instant and she dropped to her knees. She looked up at him defiantly, using all her strength to do so and he slapped her face sharply with a quick flicking motion and pointed a stubby finger into her forehead. He would never normally touch her face for fear of exposure but she knew he was taking advantage of her injured state and that any damage he inflicted would be camouflaged. ‘Don’t you fucking talk back to me,’ he spat. ‘Next time I’ll use this.’ His leather belt was wrapped tightly around his other fist, the cold metal buckle swung closely to her face. She flinched away from it and looked down, conceding, allowing him to dominate. He stood over her for a while watching her silently and then turned his back and walked out of the bathroom. ‘Don’t be too long,’ he said. ‘I want to go to bed.’ He slammed the door behind him and she stayed on the floor while she caught her breath. Her stomach ached and then cramped and she rushed to use the toilet, but then she finally got what she had been waiting for. It felt like it had taken an eternity to come as she lowered herself into the glistening foam. The water was way too hot but the heat that turned her skin bright pink and enveloped her damaged shell redirected her pain and closed her mind to everything beyond the sanctuary of the bathroom.

  2

  Simone pretended to be asleep while Martin got dressed. He left the bedroom and went downstairs and she listened to him moving around, to the clatter of his spoon and cereal bowl and to the muffled sound of Sky News. Then he was on the stairs; they creaked beneath his weight and the door brushed the carpet as he came quietly into the room and over to her. When he leant in and kissed her forehead it took all she had not to flinch and pull away from him. She opened her eyes.

  ‘You’re not going in today are you?’ he asked.

  ‘No. Got the day off to recover.’

  ‘Okay. See you tonight,’ he said. ‘I love you.’

  ‘Love you too,’ she replied but the words were meaningless and hollow.

  Simone waited until the front door clicked and then pulled her aching frame out of bed. She tried to draw the stiffness from her body by stretching and touching her toes. Her tendons and muscles loosened up and the freedom of movement felt good. She carefully peeled the dressings from her face in the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. The bruises had blossomed overnight and were now heavy and purple around her eyes, and her lips were swollen and crusted with dried blood. She blew her nose and the tissue came away thick with dark red but she could now breathe clearly though her nose and she relished the experience. She stood naked in front of the mirror and looked at the bruises that illustrated her aches and pains. She angled her body left and right wincing occasionally with the effort. Dark, tender patches of damaged skin mercilessly tattooed her arms and shoulders and back but she spent little time considering them. She was free from stab wounds and for that she was thankful. Her thoughts went out to Barratt and as she examined her body, she pressed the flesh of her belly and gasped, her muscles ached terribly but the pain was solely internal; there was no bruising or swelling, her stomach felt flat and painfully tight as if she had spent an hour doing sit-ups.

  The hurt Martin had inflicted on her was only painful, thankfully there was no lasting damage and no evidence of punishment. The results of her quick examination caused a feeling of relief to wash over her but the feeling was chased down by one of shame and her heart felt heavy with the dark weight of unhappiness. She was in pain but she was alive, she knew last night could have been so much worse but yet she felt little joy.

  She looked past the mirror and out of the bedroom window, she could see the rooftops and the clear morning sky and suddenly craved fresh air; she needed to cheer up and decided to walk into town for breakfast.

  She hated feeling down, and while she showered, she used her years of experience to occupy her mind and distract herself, making it easier to bury the dark feelings of guilt and shame somewhere inside her.

  She fixed her hair by simply tying it back and then tried to do something with her battered face but there was little she could do and simply chose not to care how she looked. She dressed in a flowing skirt and strappy shoes; simple clothes that made her feel more like a woman and less like a punch bag.

  Simone stepped out into the day and breathed deeply, looked to the sky and closed her eyes to the sun as it gently kissed her face. She loved summer mornings, the day was cool but the sun was warm on her skin and she could feel it healing her wounds. She shielded her eyes with sunglasses and began the short walk into town. She felt the heat of the sun on the back of her arms and legs, and considered for the umpteenth time how amazing it was that the sun was a hundred million miles away and yet still had the power to burn her skin, even kill with its heat. That searing hot ball of fire gave life to the planet and without it there would only be darkness, nothing but the freezing black vacuum of space. Cold and dead, she thought, like her soul, a corrupted storage locker where she wrapped her bleakest emotions in a blanket of secrecy and buried them deep down.

  She pushed the bad thoughts away and reoccupied her mind; there was going to be a solar eclipse in the next few days and an event like that would give her the perfect excuse to find her camera, blow the dust off the lens and get back into photography.

  She strolled along the high street and picked out some hair products in Boots, and as she passed the lipstick counter on her way to the till and stole a glimpse of herself in a small, distorted mirror - I won’t be needing lipstick for a while, she thought as she tongued the stitches in her lip.

  Simone wandered into a small independent coffee shop that was a personal favourite of hers and ordered a cappuccino and a blueberry muffin. The shop was fairly quiet and as she turned to find a table someone behind her said her name.

  ‘Simone?’

  She spun around to face the last person she expected to see standing opposite her and tried to look nonchalant but knew her eyes betrayed her. ‘Detective Inspector Nathan West,’ she said. ‘What a surprise.’ She wanted to keep a straight face but couldn’t help but smile. He beamed back and her heart pounded in her chest as a sudden and glorious rush of sunshine poured into the dark cavity of her soul, filling it with light and warmth.

  The only man she had ever truly loved moved towards her, hugged her, and kissed her cheek carefully.

  ‘You look good.’ He said sarcastically, his eyes scanned her face and his eyebrows lifted.

 
‘Free stitches are perks of the job.’

  He ordered a coffee.

  ‘Got time to sit?’ she asked.

  ‘Grab a table. I’ll be over in a minute.’

  They sat opposite each other and his dark eyes penetrated her soul. He read her face, all seeing, all knowing.

  She sipped her coffee and winced when the hot rim touched her lip.

  ‘That looks painful.’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘I got head-butted by an angry Romanian.’

  ‘Ouch.’

  ‘Yeah ouch.’ She smiled at him, weighing him up. ‘So come on then big shot, what are you doing back here?’

  ‘It’s the old man; he’s not doing so good.’

  ‘What’s wrong with him?’

  ‘Cancer. He’s in hospital and I’m staying at the house.’

  She was stunned. ‘Sorry, I didn’t know.’

  ‘You couldn’t have. We should have kept in touch.’

  ‘You know it’s difficult.’

  ‘Difficult,’ he repeated and quietly pondered her remark. ‘How is he?’

  ‘He is fine - recent promotion, even more money, better prospects and all that.’

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘I’m okay.’

  ‘Are you happy?’

  ‘Of course,’ she answered a little too quickly. She saw the flash in those dark eyes and knew that West had noticed. She changed the subject. ‘How are you holding up?’ she said. ‘You look tired.’

  He turned his coffee cup on its saucer and waited before speaking. ‘It’s horrible waiting for someone to die. Thought the old bugger was indestructible.’

  ‘Me too, I’m so sorry.’ She touched his hand and felt an electric connection between them. Did he feel it too? Probably not, he had moved on, moved away. She pulled her hand back and they sat in silence for a while. To her it was a sign of closeness that even after all these years conversation between them was never forced and the silences never uncomfortable.

  ‘Still taking pictures?’ he said.

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘That’s a shame.’

  ‘Still lighting fires?’

  His eyes flicked left and right, scanning the room quickly, assessing the location of eavesdroppers. He gave a boyish grin. ‘Often as possible.’

  She sighed. ‘When will you learn?’

  ‘When it’s too late I suppose.’

  She heard the trill of a mobile phone from West’s jacket pocket. His brow furrowed and he took the call.

  After a moment West said, ‘I’m on leave.’ He glanced at Simone and then sighed and nodded. ‘Okay. Fine.’ He hung up and looked at her. ‘That was work; I have to report to your station, I’ve got to see DCI -’

  ‘Jackson?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Something big has happened. Scotland Yard has pulled me off my leave. Got a big terrorist threat in London and we’re stretched to the limit. I’m the highest-ranking available officer, I’m already in Cambridge and they want me to show my face.’

  ‘Do you know what’s happened?’

  ‘No details yet, but it’s already been classified as a murder investigation.’

  ‘Jesus, that’ll hit the news in no time.’

  He slurped his coffee and gathered his things. ‘I’m going to have to go Sim.’

  She smiled inwardly, she liked it when he called her Sim; he was the only one who ever had and, even though they hadn’t seen each other for years it only helped to reinforce her belief that they had always been entirely comfortable with each other.

  ‘Okay, see you soon maybe?’ she said.

  ‘Give me your mobile number. If I get any time to myself I’ll call you.’

  ‘Oh.’ She flustered, images of her phone ringing while Martin was around flashed through her mind. ‘Um, give me yours, I’ll call you,’ she said casually but it was dreadfully transparent and she could tell that West knew exactly why she had suggested it but he pretended not to notice and quickly reeled his number off while Simone jotted it onto a napkin.

  ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I’ve really got to go.’ He quickly leant into her and kissed her lightly on the cheek. ‘It’s good to see you again Sim.’

  ‘You too Nathan.’ She could feel herself blushing. ‘You’re going to be late.’

  ‘I’m already late, and I’ve got to find the fucking station yet.’

  Simone made her way home. She knew a local murder investigation was going to be big news, she also knew it would have to be something heavy for them to pull West from his leave and have a London copper investigating a case in Cambridgeshire. She wondered what could have happened. She was eager to get back to work but she knew it would be a few days yet, her injuries wouldn’t prevent her from working but they were painful and unsightly and officers with bruised faces didn’t exactly give the service a good image.

  Hungry for more information she pulled out her mobile and dialled fellow police officer Lucy Peterson. Lucy answered, ‘Hello.’

  ‘Lucy, it’s Simone. What’s going on?’

  ‘The shit’s hit the fan; I don’t have any details yet, but I’m hearing rumours about a body at Bishop’s Thorpe Wood. We’ve got a meeting with Jackson in about half an hour. How’d you know something had happened?’

  ‘I have my sources.’

  ‘Then you probably know more than me at the moment.’

  ‘Do me a favour Lucy and keep me in the loop.’

  ‘Will do. How are you? I heard it was a rough one yesterday.’

  ‘Painful, but I’ll live. Thanks for asking.’

  ‘No problem. Take care.’

  ‘I’ll see you when I get back to work. Keep in touch.’ She hung up.

  The news had broken by the time she had walked home and switched on the TV. Sky News, BBC News 24, details were slim but it was national. The ticker bar at the bottom of the screen read: Breaking News: Body found in Cambridgeshire. They occasionally looped the same aerial view of Bishop’s Thorpe Wood and the police activity within – uniforms, cars, blue and white crime scene tape and the big white forensics tent peeking through the dense foliage. She left the news on in the background while she tidied up the lounge. The room was a tip, she hadn’t been in there since last night and she knew well enough not to expect Martin to clear up after himself; he was way too macho to demean himself with woman’s work. The coffee table was still littered with empty beer cans and the room smelt of stale Heineken.

  ‘Home sweet home,’ she muttered to herself as she put the rubbish into a black bag and opened all the windows and the door to the back garden. She thought about Nathan and tried to push the thoughts away but she couldn’t – would she be clearing up his beer cans if they lived together? It seemed unlikely. She thought about being with him and a feeling of warmth washed over her. Embarrassed with herself she pushed him to the back of her mind and concentrated on Sky News as a reporter was now on the scene. He did a reasonable job of filling the time with little substance: the quiet Cambridgeshire village of Bishop’s Thorpe has been rocked by the shocking news of a murder in a nearby wood. The unidentified victim was found in the early hours. Cambridgeshire constabulary will release a statement later today.

  Simone didn’t like to be at home; she enjoyed filling her time with work so she busied herself around the house and waited for the police to make a statement. She also waited for her husband to come home. No doubt he would bring her flowers.

  3

  Simone’s phone rang; and when she answered it she wasn’t surprised to find it was the station commander; her boss, Carl Jackson. She could imagine how busy they would be.

  ‘You’ve seen the news I take it?’ he spoke quickly without waiting for reply. ‘I need you to come into work, even if it’s just to answer the phones. The media are going to be all over us on this one. It’s all hands on deck.’

  Simone got to the station and swiped in, she headed straight upstairs to the main office and entered the
room just as a meeting ended and the crowd began to disperse. It seemed every member of staff had been there and the room quickly filled with the rumbling of shoes and voices.

  Simone made a beeline for Jackson’s office but a tug on her arm stopped her.

  ‘Hey Simone?’ It was Lucy. ‘What are you doing here?’ she said.

  ‘Jackson called, he wants me in.’

  ‘Can’t say I’m surprised,’ she said. ‘This is big.’

  ‘I know, it’s all over the news,’ said Simone and as she spoke she saw that Jackson was outside his office, trying to get her attention from across the room by waving at her over the crowd and the noise.

  Simone acknowledged him and said. ‘I’ve got to go Luce.’

  ‘Officer Connelly, have a seat,’ he said as she entered and closed the door behind her, it blocked the sound coming from the incident room like an airlock and his office suddenly seemed unnaturally quiet.

  She crossed the room and took a seat and as she sat down, she couldn’t help but wince in pain from the blow to the stomach her husband gave her. Jackson noticed and wrongly assumed it was from the injuries sustained in the line of duty. ‘First things first, how are you? You look sore.’

  ‘I hurt all over but I’ll live. Is there any news on John’s condition?’

  ‘They stitched him up and he’s stable. You should pay him a visit when you get chance.’

  ‘I was planning on seeing him tonight.’

  ‘I want to try and get there sometime today, but with all that’s happened I don’t know if I’m going to get chance,’ he said. ‘Did you get here in time for the meeting?’