EVIL CRIMES a gripping crime thriller full of twists Read online

  ‘I’m sure you’ll think of plenty of things,’ Hattie replied, tossing her hair back and laughing. ‘And thanks. I don’t have a lot of ready cash at the moment.’ She bent forward to zip up her bag, making sure he had a good view of her cleavage. ‘So, I’m Hattie. Who are you?’

  ‘Matt,’ he replied, holding out his hand.

  She ignored the hand, and instead leaned forward to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. Oh my, she thought. Is he really blushing again?

  ‘That’s for being so nice to me.’ She sipped her lager. ‘Friday afternoons are times for celebrating, don’t you think? The weekend is coming, Christmas is on its way. I’m feeling happy. How about you? Why are you in here by the way? Business lunch with your office mates?’

  ‘Yes. Well, I mean, sort of. It’s a bit complicated really.’ He took a sip from his glass of fruit juice.

  ‘I’m a good listener. Tell me.’

  ‘They’re all from the local office. I’m a trainee at the Plymouth branch and I’ve been with them this week to pick up some extra commercial experience. I’ve finished now.’

  ‘What, today?’ she replied.

  ‘This morning. I’m getting a train back this afternoon.’

  ‘Have you been staying here all week?’

  He shook his head. ‘No. I come in each day. It was all a bit last minute.’

  Thank you, God, Hattie thought. She exhaled gently. ‘Any particular train? This afternoon, I mean.’

  ‘Not really,’ Matt replied. ‘Why?’

  ‘Well, I could show you the sights, since I’m an experienced Exeter resident.’

  ‘Oh, okay.’ He looked at her shyly. ‘That sounds fun.’

  His hand was still around the nearly empty glass. She gently traced her finger over his knuckles.

  ‘We could make a start in my bedroom, if you like.’

  * * *

  Matt Brindle found an empty seat on the Plymouth train and sat down in a daze, only half aware of what was going on around him. His mind was still reeling from the afternoon’s experiences in Hattie’s small student flat. His body felt as though it had been through a gym routine, his groin ached and his anus felt sore from Hattie’s probing. He had never experienced anything like it before, and was confused and bewildered, exhilarated and shocked, excited and muddled. Matt had continued to live with his parents after leaving school, and was still with them now, even though he was approaching his twentieth birthday. He was an only child, cushioned and cosseted, and had never in his life experienced such torrid sex. In fact, he’d never had sex before, his only erotic encounters being a few unsatisfactory fumblings with young women who, like him, were committed members of the local church, and who refused to go beyond some passionate snogging.

  The train started to move, heading south along the Exe estuary before turning west to follow Brunel’s magical route along the Devon coast. Normally Matt would have been gazing through the window, admiring the view and trying to spot seabirds scudding low above the waves. Today, there were too many thoughts and images swirling around in his brain. Finally he closed his eyes and dozed, waking up with a start when the train drew into Plymouth.

  His elderly parents were both in the house when he opened the front door. He heard his mother call out a greeting. He muttered something in reply and climbed the stairs to his room, where he dumped his bag on the floor and flung his jacket on the bed. He grabbed a change of clothes and made a dash for the bathroom, where he stripped off and examined himself in the mirror. A few teeth marks around his nipples, a love bite on his left shoulder, and a definite redness to his penis. He needed to shower. He could smell sex on the skin of his torso, and it wouldn’t do to leave it there.

  Ten minutes later he entered the lounge where his parents were watching TV. His mother looked up and smiled. ‘Alright, dear?’

  ‘Yes, Mum. The train seemed a bit grubby so I thought I’d shower.’

  ‘Cleanliness is next to godliness, dear,’ his mother replied. ‘Dinner will be ready in about half an hour. I’ve just put a lasagne in the oven. Is that okay?’

  Matt nodded.

  ‘Sally Pullman will be back from university for the weekend, so I expect she’ll be at church on Sunday. Her mum told me at choir practice last night. Maybe you could wear that new tie I bought you for your birthday. She’s a lovely girl, Sally. Clever too.’

  Matt didn’t know what to say. It was if the afternoon’s experiences with Hattie had transported him to a parallel universe. Everything seemed the same, but it felt unreal. Finally he spoke.

  ‘I met someone in Exeter this afternoon, Mum. We had a chat. She’s really nice. I might see her again.’

  His mother frowned. ‘Exeter? Is she local?’

  He shook his head. ‘No. She’s at university there. She’s studying ancient history. She wants to be a museum curator.’

  ‘So she’s clever too? Must be if she’s at the university. That’s good, Matthew.’ She appeared to be waiting, but Matt didn’t add anything. Finally she spoke again. ‘What’s she like?’

  ‘Really nice. I liked her.’

  He felt his parents’ eyes on him. Had he said too much? Could they somehow guess what had happened just from looking at him?

  ‘What’s her name, dear?’

  ‘Hattie. Hattie Imber.’

  ‘Well, it’s early days yet, dear. Remember that Sally is a lovely girl, and she’s someone we know and trust.’

  Matt walked into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. He gulped down the first few mouthfuls and then sipped more slowly. His mother was so naïve. Hadn’t she spotted the change in Sally since she’d been away from home? The glossy skin? The self-assurance? That new smile, with its hint of worldliness? He’d noticed it right away and guessed what it meant. His old Sunday school chum was now an experienced young woman. Maybe she was into the same type of adventures as Hattie, although he somehow doubted it. Sally’s more restrained character and background wouldn’t allow her quite the same free-wheeling approach to self-fulfilment.

  * * *

  Maria tapped on the door of Harriet’s room in the student block, and pushed it open. The occupant was peering into a small mirror on the wall, touching up her make-up. She waved Maria in.

  ‘Did you do anything interesting, Hattie?’ Maria asked.

  ‘Not really. It was pretty boring, so I’m ready to go out on the town with you. I feel like getting rat-arsed so if you’re up for it, let’s get started. Food first? I’m ravenous.’

  Maria turned to follow her partner out of the small room and sniffed the air. Hattie was hiding something. The smell of sex was unmistakeable. Could she just detect the scent of a man? Oh, Hattie, you liar. You cheat! Saying nothing, Maria followed Hattie out of the room.

  Chapter 8: Yum-Yum

  Hattie’s arm snaked out from under the duvet and fumbled for her mobile phone. The ringtone was meant to be the Ride of the Valkyries, but at this time in the morning it sounded like nothing on earth. She picked up the phone and gazed vacantly at the display. Ten in the morning? On a Saturday? Who dared to phone her at this time? The display read unknown number. She swiped receive and grunted.

  ‘Hello, Hattie? It’s Matt. From yesterday. You gave me your number.’

  A short silence followed while Hattie tried to gather her thoughts.

  She coughed, and tried to sit up, but Maria’s arm and shoulder across her stomach pinned her in place. With some difficulty she took a swig of water from the tumbler beside the bed. Finally she could speak.

  ‘Hi.’ This time the words came out as she intended. ‘This is not the best of times for me. Can I phone you back in an hour or two?’

  She closed the call, put the phone back onto the shelf and attempted to slide back under the duvet and gain a few more minutes of precious sleep. No such luck. Maria had started snoring. Only gently, but with her mouth just a few inches below Hattie’s ear it was loud enough to prevent her from slipping back into dreamland. Harriet sighed and lay
still for a few more minutes, trying to come to terms with the new day. After a while the pressure on her bladder had become insistent, so she slid out of Maria’s embrace and staggered to the tiny en-suite where she sat holding her head in her hands. Finally she stood up again, swaying slightly, ran some warm water into the basin and sank her face into it for a few seconds. Coffee: that was what was needed. Or tea. Whichever was closer to hand. She switched on the kettle and looked in the mirror. Christ, she looked awful. Not surprising, considering the night before. Two bars and a dance-club, before they meandered back to their accommodation block in the early hours. She ran her fingers through her tangled locks. Why had she given that innocent young man her phone number? Had it just been a moment of weakness or did he have some potential that she’d spotted at the time but which she had now forgotten? She yawned again. She made two mugs of coffee and carefully carried them back to the bed.

  She poked Maria hard in the ribs. ‘Oi, you. Time for coffee. Shove over.’

  Hattie sipped her coffee and tried to think things through. Matt was another young innocent, just like Maria. No challenge, so not worth too much effort. Anyway, was she really ready for something new? Shouldn’t she let sleeping dogs lie for a couple of months and just play around gently with Maria or Matt? No point stirring up muddy waters until she knew exactly how safe she was. On the other hand having fun with Maria, or even Matt, might be entertaining but didn’t bring much in the way of thrills or excitement. God, why was her life always so full of these dilemmas? Too many choices! She finished her coffee, leaned over and began to nibble at Maria’s nipple.

  * * *

  It wasn’t till early afternoon that Hattie remembered to phone Matt back. He sounded both excited that she’d bothered to reply and a little disappointed.

  ‘I was free today and could have got a train up to Exeter like you suggested yesterday,’ he said. ‘It’s a bit late now.’

  ‘God, sorry. I had an extra tutorial,’ she lied. ‘And I overslept. Things are so hectic, you know. It’s a really hard course, ancient history, and I have to work like stink. But I’m doing quite well. How about tomorrow? I’ll be free for most of the day.’

  ‘It’s Sunday,’ Matt replied, as if this fact was self-explanatory.

  ‘Um, yes?’ Hattie replied, mystified.

  ‘I always go to church.’

  ‘God, yes, so do I usually. Why don’t you get a train up here straight after breakfast? We could go together. There’s a special service on the campus, I think. Or we could go to the cathedral. Then maybe do some more exploring afterwards?’ Hattie slyly smiled to herself and listened. Yep. Matt’s breathing had quickened.

  ‘Okay, I’ll let you know. I usually go with my parents, you see. And my friends.’ He added the final words quickly, as if he were trying to assure her that he did have some.

  ‘Sure, yeah,’ Hattie replied. By now she was smiling broadly to herself. This was all so entertaining, so strange, even intriguing. It was as if Matt came from a previous age, one where people still lived by strict religious principles. And she’d hooked him. She had him in her grasp, a beautiful, innocent male virgin. Well, not a virgin, not after her exuberant efforts of the previous afternoon. And his body was all hers. Yum-yum.

  ‘Did you just say yum-yum?’ Matt asked.

  Hattie spluttered. Had she really said that aloud? ‘Oh, yeah. I was just looking at a photo of beef stroganoff in a magazine. It’s making me feel hungry.’

  ‘I thought you said you were a vegetarian,’ Matt replied.

  Sod it, she thought. Why did I tell him that? ‘Yeah, I am. But mushroom strog is my all-time favourite and that’s what I was thinking of. Listen, I have to go. I’ve got hockey practice. Will you text me later to let me know about tomorrow? I could meet you at the station. St David’s is only just down the road from here. I love trains. I always think they’re so romantic. Don’t you?’

  Hattie quickly closed the call before her lies got her in any deeper. Hockey? What on earth had been going through her mind? Running about on a cold, wet day with a crowd of Hooray-Henrietta types waving sticks in the air? Fuck that for a game of soldiers!

  Chapter 9: Wedding Plans

  ‘Mum, can you remember how you felt when I got my Oxford acceptance letter? It would have been just before Christmas when I was coming up to eighteen.’

  It was Saturday morning and Sophie, along with her husband Martin, had spent the previous evening at the theatre in Bristol with her mother, then stayed over in her Clifton flat. Martin had gone out after breakfast to buy some newspapers and had not yet returned. Susan Carswell stopped reading her book and peered above her reading glasses at her daughter.

  ‘Don’t you remember?’ she asked.

  Sophie shook her head. ‘Not really.’

  ‘I was thrilled for you. I think it was one of the proudest moments of my life. Things had been so hard for so long, and I remember thinking that maybe, at long last, those times were coming to an end. Anyway, you deserved it. You’d worked so hard for it.’ She paused. ‘What’s brought this on?’

  ‘Jade just told us a few days ago that she’s included Oxford in her university applications. She’s got an interview at Keble later in the week. She never told us when she was completing her applications a couple of months ago. We both thought she’d stick to the newer universities, knowing her personality and her anti-elitist attitude. It took me by surprise, I can tell you.’

  ‘Like you, then? That’s exactly what I thought all those years ago.’

  ‘But I did talk it over with you in advance, Mum.’

  ‘So did Jade.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Jade talked it over with me. If you must know, she asked me about those very same concerns, about elitism, and whether you felt them at the same age. I told her that of course you did. We had a long chat about it, then she swore me to silence. She didn’t want you and Martin to know until you had to. I still remember hugging you for what seemed like a very long time. I didn’t want you to see me crying, so I kept my arms around you for longer than I should have. If you must know, I wasn’t just crying for me, it was for your father as well. Graham would have been so proud of you if he’d lived, I just knew he would.’

  ‘I don’t know what to say.’

  ‘There’s no need to say anything. Don’t say anything to Jade, either. She’s always felt the weight of expectation pressing down on her. The two of us have often talked about it. It wasn’t the same with Hannah, because of what she’s always wanted to be, an actress. But Jade has lived with it for a long time.’

  Sophie was upset. ‘But we’ve never put any pressure on her. God knows, Martin knows exactly what that kind of parental pressure is like. So we always made it clear that everything was her own choice.’

  ‘I didn’t say that the expectation came from you or Martin. It came from within Jade herself, just the same as you, all those years ago when you were the same age. It’s fine, Sophie. Jade can handle it, so there’s no need to worry. I think one of the key turning points for Jade was around the time of the funeral a couple of years ago. She got a lot more mature very quickly after that. My guess is that she’s also been talking to Florence and James. I don’t need to say how thrilled they’ll be if she gets in.’

  Sophie was too choked up to reply immediately. She recalled that Jade had spent a long weekend with her great-grandparents in Gloucester late in the summer. That’s when she must have spoken with them. And she, Sophie, had been too bound up in her own concerns to notice.

  She shook her head. ‘What a failure I am. I didn’t realise.’

  Her mother laughed. ‘You’re no failure. You’re the foundation on which this whole family structure is built. We all know it, apart from you. Give yourself a break, Sophie. You can’t be everything to everyone, nor do we expect you to be. You do a fantastic job with all of us and you need to go a bit easier on yourself. Even Hannah says that. She’s a keen observer of human nature and she ought to know, having watc
hed you on and off since she was tiny.’

  Sophie sighed loudly. ‘They keep taking me by surprise, particularly Jade. We’ve always known that she’s academically gifted but the insight she occasionally shows is staggering. I don’t remember being anything like that when I was a teenager.’

  ‘That’s because it was you. We are rarely aware that our own personalities are exceptional. It all seems so normal to us. Yet you’ve always had great empathy, even when you were young. Lots of the other children hung around you. They used to ask your opinion about lots of things. Linda Fleming was devastated when you chose Oxford. She really thought you’d opt for Exeter, like her. I remember her mum telling me.’

  ‘I kept in touch with her though. I used to go down and see her. I still keep in touch. I think it’s so important to keep up old friendships.’

  ‘You see what I mean? You still have that sense of responsibility. You think it’s normal, but it really isn’t, not at the level you show. And Jade’s the same. So’s Hannah, for that matter. You make a great trio, the three of you. The Allen women, out to save the world.’

  ‘That sounds cynical, Mum.’

  ‘Well, I’m entitled to be. Look at me, nearly at retirement age and still unable to make my mind up about what I want from the rest of my life. The neighbours still treat me warily, you know. They wonder if I’m a woman of ill-repute because I have boyfriends rather than a proper husband. To be honest, Sophie, I sometimes wonder if I’m happier that way. I just couldn’t bear the thought of getting married to some nice man and then coming to realise that he isn’t really as nice as he seemed. He leaves his dirty socks on the floor, refuses to shower before bed, wears frayed cuffs, belittles me in front of his mates. I couldn’t cope with it.’

  Sophie was indignant. ‘But Bill isn’t like that at all. He’s such a thoughtful bloke. And in our house, Martin is tidier than me. Aren’t you exaggerating?’

  ‘Probably.’ Susan paused. ‘He’s asked me to marry him. Again.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘I’m thinking of accepting. But how will I measure up to his first wife? I’m scared stiff, Sophie.’