The Lake House. Helen Phifer
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detective she seemed to be so in love with. She had fought so well that she had managed to stab him so hard in the thigh he’d thought he was going to bleed to death. And then he’d panicked and thrown the damn petrol all over. If only he’d kept calm, his reflection wouldn’t now resemble Freddy Krueger from A Nightmare on Elm Street. She had left him for dead and he hadn’t quite got over that. The fact that he had wanted to slit her throat and leave her for dead didn’t matter. In his mind she had betrayed him and now he was destined to wear hats and sunglasses in public for the rest of his life, to make sure he didn’t scare any of the nice little children who might see him.
‘What do you want to do this afternoon then, my little flower? It’s a nice day. Should we take the boat out and people-watch?’
‘We could do, but first I want you to take me to bed, and then I’m going to have a shower, and then we could talk about what we’re going to do next. We didn’t discuss whether this was a one-off.’
She was talking about the woman they’d abducted between them and killed, a practice run to see if the lovely Megan was up to killing another person. Henry had needed to see if she really was serious and if she could cope with the enormity of what they had done. Megan had not shown one ounce of guilt, even after they’d left the woman’s body in a barn and kept her head in the freezer for a couple of months until the time had been right to put their plan into action.
‘The boathouse is almost ready. That old woman never leaves her house. I’ve been watching her for weeks now. She doesn’t have any family except that woman who turns up twice a week carrying a mop bucket and polish. She sits in her bedroom staring out of the window, but never in the direction of the boathouse. I doubt she even knows we use her boat. She might not even realise there’s a boat in there; it’s been so long since anyone has been inside it. I wonder why she lives alone in that big house and never comes out? Still it’s very lucky for us, because otherwise we would have nowhere to take our next victim. Plus it’s right next door to the caravan site. It’s very convenient.’
‘So what’s the plan then, Henry? Are we going to take another woman and let you cut her head off or are you waiting for the woman you love?’
She poked him in the ribs and he felt a brief flare of rage, so bright and red inside his chest that he didn’t speak. He didn’t like Megan being sarcastic about Annie and she must have sensed something.
‘Sorry, I’m only joking, you know. It’s just I really enjoyed the last time – well, except for having to keep her head in the freezer. It was a bit off-putting having that in a plastic bag next to the frozen sausages every time I looked inside.’
‘Patience. We have to take our time. These things can’t be rushed. It’s how you make mistakes, and if you make mistakes you end up being nearly burnt to death, stabbed and then locked up in a mental hospital.’
He indicated to take the sharp turn into the caravan park, driving slowly because there were always kids running everywhere. The last thing he needed was to run one over and have the police crawling all over the place.
***
The doorbell chimed and Martha looked up from the ball of pastry she was kneading with her gnarled hands. She wiped them on her apron and began to walk towards the front door. As she passed the cellar door she paused, sure that she’d heard a high-pitched giggle coming from somewhere down in the dark. Walking faster now she felt both relieved and terrified at the thought of opening up the cellar. She could see the dark shadows through the glass pane in the door and hoped it was the plumbers. At least there were two of them. She opened the door and was surprised to see two men who were nearing retirement age. She’d expected a couple of youngsters.
‘Hello, we’ve come about your blocked drains.’
She opened the door wide enough for them to step inside. ‘Thank you so much; I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. Unfortunately the smell seems to be coming from down in the cellar.’
‘That’s all right, we’re used to working in the dark. What we’ll do is take a look and see if it’s something we can get sorted now. If it’s going to be a big job it will have to wait until next week, I’m afraid. We’re so busy this week.’
Martha tried not to let the panic show. Next week was no good. No good at all. It needed sorting now. She sighed and turned, leading them to the cellar door.
‘By heck, what do you keep down there: lions? I’ve never seen so many locks on a door.’
The men laughed at their joke and Martha smiled. She didn’t want to tell them it was something far more lethal than a big cat.
‘My father was very conscious about us playing down there in the dark. The sewer pipe reaches to the lake and it can flood very easily in the winter. He was such a cautious man. I’m afraid I can’t open the locks very fast with my fingers – arthritis.’
She passed them an old, iron key ring and watched as the more talkative of the men began to try and unlock the padlocks. Finally he’d taken all the locks off and slid the bolts back. With the opening of each one Martha felt an impending sense of dread. Should she tell them about the thing down there or hope that it had died? Maybe that’s what the smell was. She prayed that it was. He pulled the door open and the stench was overwhelming. Both men groaned and began to take face masks from their pockets.
‘Smells like something’s died down there, love.’
‘It does indeed. Please be careful, won’t you. Don’t leave each other’s side. The light-pull is just to the left of you.’
She saw the look that passed between the men, as if to say, ‘Bless her; she’s a bit mental,’ but she ignored it. Better for them to think she was some crazy old woman than not to warn them. The light illuminated the stairs and they both began to walk down. Martha didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t go down with them because she couldn’t get back up fast enough if she needed to. Instead she paced up and down the hall. She could hear their muffled voices but nothing much else. She breathed out when they finally came back up.
‘It’s hard to see the problem. The smell is coming from the drains and it looks as if there is something down there that could be causing it. The problem is the drain is a lot bigger than we thought so we’re going to have to come back and investigate it properly, but it won’t be until next week.’
Martha felt herself deflate. Thirty seconds ago she had been overjoyed to see them coming up the steps alive and together. Now she was going to have to put up with the smell and them risking their lives again.
‘Is there nothing you can do today? I can’t live with the smell. It’s horrific.’
‘I’m really sorry, but it’s a lot deeper than it looks and we haven’t got the tools. They’re out on another job. There’s nothing we can do today.’
Martha pushed the heavy door shut and began to slide the bolts across.
‘Very well, but you must come back as soon as you can.’
She watched them leave and continued to work the locks, the sweat forming on her brow because it was taking so long. The van doors slammed and the engine started. They drove off, leaving her on her own once again.
***
Seamus Jones was walking along the road. There were no pavements around here. He’d been dropped off an hour ago to check out the houses along this stretch of the lake. His two friends had gone into the town and told him to ring them once he’d found a suitable house with no burglar alarms or security cameras. He stepped onto the grass verge to let the plumber’s van pass. It had only driven past him ten minutes ago. Bingo. They must have been to price up a job. He went to the overgrown drive the van had come out of and opened the gate at the side. He walked along the gravel drive and smiled to himself. Double bingo. This could be the payday they’d been waiting for.
He finally reached the house and nodded in appreciation. It was a beautiful old house. The garden was very neglected and unloved, along with the tired paintwork on the