The First of Nine Read online

  Jonathan moved towards the front door.

  ‘You can come in a minute,’ Michael said, ‘but she’s fast asleep I tell you…’

  ◆◆◆

  Theodore watched as Jonathan entered Michael’s house and the door was shut behind him. He raced back into the alley and returned to the boundary wall of Michael’s house. Inside, he saw Jonathan enter the lounge. Emily was laid out provocatively on the chaise longue. He looked at the parquet floor. The broken tea cup and its contents had been cleared away and cleaned up.

  Jonathan put his hand on Emily’s shoulder.

  ‘Emily,’ he said, shaking her. ‘You need to wake up.’

  Michael returned to his drawing board and picked up the little wooden mallet.

  Theodore dropped down to the ground and then jumped up onto the windowsill. The sash window had been closed.

  ‘She must have relapsed,’ Jonathan said.

  ‘Relapsed?’ Michael said, clutching the mallet behind the drawing board.

  ‘Yes,’ Jonathan said. ‘She’s hypersensitive to certain foods…’

  ‘I didn’t know,’ Michael said.

  ‘Chinese food, in particular.’

  ‘I did make her a cup of green tea,’ Michael said.

  ‘That might have done it,’ Jonathan said, bending over his girlfriend.

  Michael approached, the mallet raised over Jonathan’s head. Ready to strike.

  Theodore miaowed through the glass as loudly as he could.

  Jonathan looked round and saw Theodore on the windowsill. He turned and saw Michael, a wooden mallet in his hand.

  ‘What’s that?’ Jonathan said, squaring up to Michael.

  ‘It’s a mallet,’ Michael said. ‘You know for tenderising steaks.’

  ‘But what are you doing with it?’

  Michael hesitated.

  Jonathan glanced back at his prone girlfriend, then back to Michael.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘I use it,’ Michael said. ‘As a rest. You know, so I don’t smudge my work.’

  ‘Well,’ Jonathan said, turning back to Emily, ‘I think I’d better get her home.’

  Jonathan lifted her up from the chaise longue and placed her over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift.

  As he shut the front door behind him, he murmured into Emily’s ear, ‘Let’s get you home…’

  They Will Know My Name

  Cats have a killer instinct, though their owners prefer to gloss over the fact.

  The instinct in most humans is hidden well below the surface, smothered by thousands of years of civilisation. Not many humans have the desire or even the potential to kill these days, Theodore realized. Especially not another human being.

  Michael was an exception. He had killed Peter Morris. He had killed his partner Philip. He was about to kill Emily. He was a born killer.

  ◆◆◆

  Jonathan put Emily to bed. Theodore settled by her side and reassured himself that she was going to be fine.

  In her drug-induced sleep, he heard her say: ‘I don’t want to model for you anymore.’

  Downstairs Jonathan watched television. He had opened a bottle of red wine and had found a Swedish crime drama on the television.

  When he saw Theodore enter the front room, he said, ‘Looks like it’s me and you tonight.’

  Theodore sat on his lap but couldn’t settle.

  ‘That guy gave me the creeps,’ Jonathan said to Theodore.

  Theodore purred in agreement.

  ‘Lucky you warned me about the mallet.’

  Jonathan took a large drink from his glass of wine.

  Then there was a knock at the door.

  Theodore followed Jonathan.

  There were two police officers.

  ‘Are you Jonathan?’ one of them said. ‘Jonathan Fielder?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Jonathan.

  ‘Do you know a Diane Banks?’

  ‘Diane?’ Jonathan said. ‘I know someone called Diane.’

  ‘Did you have an altercation with her this evening? In the alley behind?’

  ‘An altercation? Not really. She was upset and I tried to get past her.’

  ‘Did you push her?’

  ‘She was in my way.’

  ‘Did you push her?’

  ‘I pushed past her.’

  ‘So you pushed her.’

  ‘I suppose I did. But she pushed me first.’

  ‘She says that you threw her dead cat into a wheelie bin.’

  ‘Yes. I did. It’s a long story, but I didn’t know it was hers. I found it and brought it back here.’

  ‘I think you are going to have to come with us and make a statement. She is quite upset about it all.’

  ‘Really? Now? Can’t it wait until morning. My girlfriend is upstairs asleep.’

  ‘I’m sure she’ll still be here when you get back,’ a police officer quipped.

  ‘I think it best if you come with us now,’ the other said. ‘These are quite serious allegations against you.’

  Jonathan shook his head. ‘I’ll get my jacket,’ he said.

  Theodore watched from the front window as Jonathan got into the back of the police van, which had stopped in the middle of the street. After a minute or two the van pulled away.

  He went upstairs and checked on Emily. She was fast asleep. He dabbed at her face but she didn’t wake.

  ◆◆◆

  As the light began to fade and the air grew cold, Theodore took up position in the ivy that grew over the boundary wall of Michael’s house. Michael was doing the washing up in the kitchen. When he brought his kitchen bin out and emptied it into the bin in the yard, he spotted Theodore.

  ‘So you want to know why?’ he asked.

  ‘Well, I could tell you how he muttered “Your sort disgusts me,” as I was putting my rubbish out one night,’ Michael said. ‘I could tell you how he drove a wedge between mother and daughter because of his racist views… Yes. I had an eye on the old bigot for years. I was doing the world a favour.’

  Theodore stared into Michael’s eyes imploringly.

  ‘And what about Philip?’ he wanted to say.

  ‘Philip suspected that I’d done it but he didn’t know for sure.’

  Theodore continued staring down at Michael.

  ‘He began making demands… A new pair of trainers, an expensive watch, a meal out. It all adds up… I’m a struggling artist, you know. I don’t have that sort of money. I had to deal with him before he said something. It was his own fault really.’

  Theodore’s eyes widened further.

  ‘And Emily? Well, I was getting into the swing of it… Get it? The swing of it!’

  Michael mimicked swinging a baseball bat, a sick grin on his face.

  ‘Then I have my reputation to think about,’ he went on. ‘One day my pictures will be priceless. Once people know the background…’

  He replaced the cover to the metal bin with a clatter. ‘It’s a pity I don’t do pets…’ he said, still grinning.

  He turned to go back inside but paused.

  Then he turned back to Theodore. ‘So, now you know the truth, what are you going to do about it, little pussy cat?’

  Theodore considered attempting a feline arrest but knew it would be futile.

  Michael said, ‘Nothing. There’s nothing you can do about it.’

  Theodore wanted to say that there was just one more thing, as he had heard his hero Lieutenant Columbo quip before delivering the killer line and nailing the criminal. But he did not say anything. He was just a cat after all.

  ‘Well, if there’s nothing else,’ Michael said. ‘I need to get on. I’m going down to London tomorrow.’

  He turned and went back into his house, shutting the door behind him.

  In the kitchen Michael took his mobile phone from his pocket and made a call.

  ‘Henry?’ he said. ‘It’s Michael… You know, Mikey from Yorkshire… Yes, I know it’s late… But I’m coming down to London tomorrow… I’ve g
ot something for you.’

  He paused, listening to Henry talk.

  ‘I know the last pictures didn’t sell well,’ he said. Then: ‘These will make my name… I can promise you that. They will be priceless one day… I just need a bit of an advance on them. That’s all.’

  He paced the kitchen, his mobile held tightly to his ear, his pink head glistening beneath the fluorescent kitchen light.

  ‘Look. I’ll see you tomorrow. You won’t be disappointed. Not when I tell you the story behind them…’

  He finished the phone call before Henry could protest. Then, from on top of a cupboard, he got down a brown suitcase. He began taking his pictures down from the walls and putting them into the suitcase.

  Once his suitcase was packed, Michael returned to the kitchen and from a cupboard he took a handheld electric circular saw he had bought that morning from B&Q and went upstairs.

  Moments later the bathroom light was turned on.

  Theodore heard both bath taps turned on and water began to run from the bottom of a pipe into the drain. From the bathroom there came a whirring, and then the whine as metal cut bone.

  Water gushed into the drain, through the round metal grate. Theodore watched as the water turned red.

  Froth formed on the drain grate.

  Theodore looked up at the bathroom window and the shadows dancing behind the mottled glass.

  Bin Day

  The dim hour before dawn is a magical time, if you are a cat. The birds are awake. Most cats are awake. Most people are asleep. Michael, however, was wide awake.

  The night before bin day, people put their bin bags against their back walls. As the access into the back alley is too tight for the bin lorry to enter, a man gathers all the bags and stacks them in a big pile against the side of Wendy Morris’s house. The lorry parks next to the access to the alley and the bin men heft the bags into the back of the bin lorry.

  Michael waited until first light before putting out his rubbish. He had placed his bags in a neat row at the base of Wendy’s wall. Now he stood in front of his bedroom window and waited.

  Another person was also up early that morning. In her mauve dressing gown and fur-lined slippers, Wendy Morris paced her kitchen, glancing now and again at the telephone on the side and then to the clock on the wall. Waiting for a reasonable hour to call the police. She put the kettle on and made herself a cocoa.

  Theodore lay on the pillow beside Emily. His ears twitched as he listened to the early morning noises from outside. His thoughts flicked back to the evening before. He remembered the red water that had gushed out into the drain, leaving pink and yellow scum over the grate.

  There was no way he could prove that Michael had killed Peter Morris, but perhaps he could get him for Philip’s murder.

  Theodore got to his paws and jumped down onto the floor. He crossed to the window and, standing up on his hind legs, poked his head up behind the closed curtains.

  Against Wendy’s wall there was a line of three full bin liners, each closed at the top with parcel tape. He knew they did not belong to Wendy. Her bin bags were further up the wall of her house, nearer the street. He watched as a bin man added a dozen more bags to the bottom of the wall. No doubt the three ominous black bags would soon be beneath a mountain of rubbish, Theodore realized. His thoughts returned to the dancing silhouette behind the bathroom window.

  He returned to his pillow and tried to wake Emily, dabbing at her face with the pads of his paws, but she was sound asleep, her mouth open. Jonathan had yet to return from Fulford Police Station. He was by himself, he realized.

  In the grey light, he padded down the stairs and made for the cat flap.

  ◆◆◆

  From the back wall, he glanced up at Michael’s bedroom window. The curtains were open; a dark silhouette behind the glass. He saw the bin man further up the hill, half a dozen bin bags in each hand, carrying them to the bottom to add to the ones already piled up against Wendy’s wall; he whistled as he worked. He threw the bags onto the pile and then returned up the hill to gather more.

  Theodore peered into Wendy’s kitchen. Wendy was sitting at the kitchen table, the telephone in front of her, a mug of cocoa in her hand. Every minute or so she glanced at the clock on the wall.

  The bin man was halfway up the hill, his back to Theodore. Theodore jumped down into the alley and dashed across to the bin bags piled up against Wendy’s wall.

  He slid a claw across the tight shiny black surface. The bag split open to reveal a second shiny black surface. Double-bagged!

  He heard footsteps approach the corner. He swiped at the black shiny plastic again.

  ‘Get out of it,’ the bin man shouted, stamping his feet theatrically at the cat.

  Theodore turned and dashed past the bin man, side stepping him, then raced back up the hill.

  Back upstairs in the bedroom, Emily was still asleep. Theodore stood up behind the curtain once more. The three bin liners were now hidden by the ever growing pile of rubbish. In the distance he heard the bin lorry approach. The bin man who had seen Theodore off stood waiting beside the mountain of rubbish for his colleagues to join him.

  An orange light began to flash against the side of Wendy’s house, and soon two other men entered the back alley and began shifting the bin bags, tossing them into the back of the waiting lorry. Finally they got to the bottom of the pile.

  A bin man picked up the last bag and began to carry it out into the street.

  ‘You’ve lost something,’ one of his colleagues shouted back at him.

  On the ground lay a fingerless hand and forearm, wrapped in cling film. On the wrist there was a gold Rolex.

  Theodore watched as one of the bin men shook his bald head slowly from side to side. ‘Now I’ve seen it all,’ he said.

  The bin man took out his mobile phone and called the police.

  At the same time Wendy took a last sip of cocoa, put down her mug; then picked up her phone and dialled 999.

  The alarm clock went off. Emily rolled over and snoozed it. ‘Too early,’ she mumbled sleepily.

  Theodore walked past the bed and into the front bedroom. He jumped up onto the table in front of the window. From down the street, he heard a door open and then close.

  In the distance he heard a police siren.

  Michael walked to the pavement and placed his suitcase by the kerb. He glanced at his watch. He took out his mobile phone. Sweat beaded on his pink forehead.

  Then a taxi appeared at the bottom of the hill. It pulled up against the kerb. He read the insignia on the side: Crow Line Taxis.

  Ahmet swung open the taxi door and got out to help his first customer of the day with his luggage.

  ‘Morning,’ he said to Michael, recognising him as the artistic type who lived several doors down the hill from his own house.

  Michael already had his suitcase in his hand as Ahmet approached.

  ‘I can manage,’ he said abruptly.

  Ahmet opened the boot and Michael pushed the suitcase inside.

  ‘I’m in a hurry,’ Michael said, getting into the back of the taxi.

  Ahmet closed the boot and got into the driving seat.

  Michael looked out of the car window.

  He saw the large grey cat staring down at him from a window. The cat blinked at him. He waved goodbye to the cat and mouthed, ‘Bye, bye Pussy Cat.’

  The sirens grew louder.

  Theodore jumped down from the windowsill and headed downstairs.

  ‘You know, I live on this street,’ Ahmet said, getting in the driver’s seat. ‘Just up there… First customer of the morning and it’s one of my neighbours. What a coincidence!’

  ‘The station,’ Michael said. ‘I’m going to the railway station.’

  ‘Business or pleasure?’ Ahmet said, putting the car into gear.

  He pulled the car into the middle of the road, between the lines of parked cars.

  ‘Just drive,’ Michael said. ‘I’m not in the mood for small talk.’r />
  Ahmet drove up the hill, not shifting up from second gear. As they neared the top of the road, a police car turned in, preventing them from exiting. Ahmet began to reverse into a gap in the parked cars to allow the police car to pass.

  ‘Keep going!’ Michael shouted. ‘I have a train to catch.’

  Ahmet glanced back down the street and saw another police car begin to ascend the hill, its siren turned on. He glanced at the police car in front, its siren now turned on. He glanced at his backseat passenger, his face red and dripping sweat.

  ‘You’re going to miss your train,’ Ahmet said. He put the handbrake on and took the key from the ignition. Then he stepped out of his taxi and locked the doors.

  The police car stopped in front and two officers got out.

  Michael slapped his hands uselessly against the car window.

  ‘Let me out!’ he screamed from behind the glass.

  ‘What seems to be the problem here?’ one of the officers asked Ahmet.

  ‘This gentleman appears to be in a rush this morning,’ Ahmet said. ‘With all the sirens, I thought I’d better stop.’

  ‘We’d better have a word with him,’ a police officer said. ‘If you could unlock the doors…’

  Ahmet clicked his car key and the passenger door swung open, across the pavement.

  Michael jumped out of the taxi and faced the police officer.

  ‘In a hurry?’ the police officer said.

  ‘Yes,’ Michael said, and turned and began to run down the street.

  As he passed the access into the back alley, he spotted the grey fluffy cat crouching against the wall.

  And Theodore spotted the red-faced Michael as he flashed past. He saw Irene and Rocky crossing the road at the bottom of the hill, Rocky straining on his lead; out for his early morning walk.

  Theodore dashed out onto the pavement, turned and caught the German shepherd’s eye. Then he ran up the hill.

  Rocky broke free of his lead and bolted up the hill after the big grey cat. Unfortunately Michael was in his way.

  Michael’s legs were taken out by the German shepherd. He was sent sprawling onto the pavement. Within seconds police officers were over him, one of them with his knee on his back.