the house, he stopped halfway along the path, to sit on a wooden bench that was painted dark green. He felt relaxed and in some way pleased with himself for carrying out what he thought of as a mercy killing. The old man’s health and quality of life was rapidly deteriorating, and so he had curtailed it, and by so doing had freed him from further suffering. He felt like a boy scout: Job Done!
An hour later he was back on a tube heading home, having made several withdrawals from ATMs, wearing a black woollen beanie hat, shades, and with a Band-Aid tightly placed across his nose to alter its shape as he kept his head down to extract the money. No sneaky camera would see him for who he really was, for the killer by the name of Daniel was no more than a fabrication; a character he assumed to be totally separate from his everyday personality.
CHAPTER TWO
He slipped out of bed at six a.m., headed for the bathroom to take a leak, and then went downstairs to the kitchen, dressed only in the jockey shorts that he’d slept in. He switched on the coffeemaker before unlocking the back door and stepping out onto the decking, to watch the sun as it broke cover in the east to rise up and begin its daily journey.
Stretching, he walked barefoot down the steps and across to the small grove of mature apple trees that he supposed had been the inspiration for the house name: Orchard Cottage.
“You’ll stand in fox or badger poop, you lummox,” Beth called from the open kitchen door. “And I’ve poured the coffee.”
Matt didn’t turn around, just hooked his fingers in the waistband of his shorts and gave her a quick flash of his pale bottom.
“I can’t believe you just mooned me out in the open,” Beth said after giggling at his spontaneous act.
“I’m full of surprises,” Matt said, strolling back to the deck, to stop and check the soles of his feet before climbing the steps.
Beth embraced him and kissed him on the lips. He could feel the softness of her breasts through the thin cotton of the T-shirt she wore.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” Matt said.
“Yes, it is,” Beth said. “This place has given me a whole new outlook on life.”
“In what way?”
“The peace and quiet. It’s like finding a small park in the city and going into it to escape the hectic way of life that is all around it. I used to think that I liked the hustle and bustle, but I was just acclimatised to it, and didn’t know what I was missing.”
Matt nodded. He believed that they had made the right move. They could work in busy, crowded environs and then retreat to the tranquillity of what they regarded as a little piece of heaven that went by the name of Woodford Wells; a small village north of the city with no downside that they had yet come across.
They showered together, drank a second cup of coffee and got ready to leave for work.
“Have you got anything really heavy on at the moment?” Beth said to Matt as they locked up and walked over to the cars that were parked side by side on the wide gravel drive out front.
“Nothing that you need to know about,” Matt said. “You’ve been the damsel in distress too many times for comfort. Remember, we agreed that your days of consulting for the police are over.”
Beth smiled. “Just interested,” she said. “There’s no reason I can’t give you pointers if you need any. And don’t forget that we also agreed that you don’t go head to head with any more homicidal sociopaths and put both of us in danger.”
“You got it,” Matt said, and they kissed before getting into their vehicles and driving away from the cottage.
DCI Tom Bartlett was already in Matt’s office drinking coffee when his DI entered and paused to fill a mug with the fresh brew.
“You have all the paperwork to make the arrest?” Tom said.
“Good morning, Tom,” Matt replied. “Yeah. We have eyes on him. He hasn’t left his flat for twenty-four hours. There were only two other residents living in the house. One is abroad, and the other has been moved out until it’s resolved.”
“Any problems?”
“Not that we’re aware of. As far as we know he doesn’t own a firearm. The women he attacked all suffered knife wounds. He has form for using a blade, in and out of prison.”