Free Eeny Meeny by M. J. Arlidge Page A

educated, got a good job and eventually found a girl – benign, harmless – who wanted to marry him. From such a miserable, head-fucking start, he’d managed to make a good life for himself. Until someone had forced his colleague to stab him through the eye. Sure it was self-defence, but that was what made it worse. James/Ben loathed violence – what must he have been going through to try to kill Peter?
    It was too twisted, too unlucky for words. And yet that was what they were dealing with.
    ‘Do you think they’re connected? Joel Hawker’s murders and Be— … James’s death?’ Mark interjected, breaking into Helen’s thoughts.
    ‘Maybe. But Amy and Sam weren’t part of that. Where do they fit in?’
    Silence crept over them. Perhaps there were connections to be made but they were hard to see right now.
    So what were they left with? A pair of sadistic, motiveless murders that seemed utterly unrelated and a perpetrator who was either a scruffy, blonde heating engineer or a busty, mischievous housewife with long, raven tresses. What they were left with was a mess and they both knew it.
    As Mark scanned the pub, he felt the craving growing. All around him men and women were laughing, joking and drinking. Wine, beer, spirits, cocktails, chasers – poured down their necks with abandon.
    ‘You’re doing really well, Mark.’
    Helen’s words snapped him out of it. He eyed her suspiciously. The last thing he wanted was pity.
    ‘I know it’s hard, but this is the beginning of the end. We’re going to get you better. We’re going to do it together. Ok?’
    Mark nodded, grateful.
    ‘You can tell me to eff off and go to Alcoholics Anonymous instead and I’ll understand. But I don’t think they know you. They don’t know what we go through day after day. What it does to us. Which is why I’m going to help you. Whenever you need company, whenever you need help, I will be there for you. There will be times – loads of times – when you really really want to drink. And that’s ok – it’s going to happen whether you like it or not. But here’s the deal. You only ever drink in my presence. And when I tell you stop, you stop. Right?’
    Mark didn’t disagree.
    ‘That’s how we’ll beat this thing. But if I find that you’ve broken that rule, that you’ve lied to me, then I’ll drop you like a stone. Right? Good.’
    She disappeared to the bar and came back holding a bottle of lager in her hand. She pushed it across the table to him. Mark’s hand was shaking slightly as he picked it up. He put it to his lips. The cool lager slid down his throat. But then she was taking it from him. For a moment, he wanted to hit her. But then the alcohol reached his stomach. And all was better again momentarily. He realized now that she was still holding his hand. Instinctively, he started to caress her hand with his thumb. She pulled it away.
    ‘Let me be clear on one thing, Mark. This isn’t about “us”. It’s about you.’
    He’d misread the situation. And now he felt foolish. Stroking the hand of his superior officer. What a prick. They left soon after. Helen watched him drive off – presumably to make sure he didn’t slope back into the pub. The warm, lagery optimism of the afternoon was dissipating now and Mark felt empty and alone.
    As dusk fell, Mark’s Golf pulled up outside what was once his family home. Elsie would be up in her bedroom now, with Sheepy, bathed in the green glow of her nightlight. He couldn’t see her, but he knew she was there and that filled him with love. It wasn’t enough but it would have to do – for now.

27
     
    Detective Superintendent Michael Whittaker was waiting for Helen when she arrived back at Southampton Central. He was a charismatic 45-year-old – outdoorsy, tanned, fit – a favourite with his female clerical staff, who dreamt of bagging this powerful and successful bachelor. He was also canny, with a keen eye for anything that might help, or hinder, his