Читать книгу Killing Cupid - Mark Edwards, Mark Edwards - Страница 5

Alex

It was the sound of Kathy’s body hitting the concrete that kept me awake at night afterwards. It was like a hard-boiled egg dropped from a great height onto a wooden floor. A muffled thud, something splintering, a crack. And then the great silence that followed.

From my position up on the fire escape, I couldn’t see her. The moon had slipped behind a cloud. I peered down at the black shapes, thought I saw something dart over the back wall – a cat, a small fox? – and that fleeing creature woke me from my stunned state and made me move. There was only one thing to do.

Panic.

The metal steps were slippery from the rain that had fallen that afternoon, and as I walked backwards down the fire escape I slipped and banged my knee, scraping skin, hissing a curse that seemed to echo around me. With tears in my eyes I stood upright and looked out across London, at the jumble of shapes silhouetted on the horizon. The city looked different now. More dangerous. Another secret – mine, my latest – crawled through the city and joined the millions that hid in London’s nooks and basements and hearts.

Back inside Kathy’s flat, I tried to gather my thoughts and work out what needed to be done. Had I left fingerprints? What had I touched? I’d come in from the pub, stood by the window, taken the beer that my temporary friend had handed me, chilled and cracked open, a wisp rising from its neck.

There was the bottle, standing on the table by the window. I picked it up and took it with me, tucking it into my jacket pocket. Had I touched anything else? Had I? My thoughts were drowned out by the rush of fear. I had to get out. Using my sleeve to cover my fingers, I opened the door of the flat and peered up and down the stairwell, leaving the light off. Surely the neighbours would hear my heart? I heard a noise through the wall and froze. Then, trying and failing to make myself weightless, I completed my journey down the steps, out into the night.

I stopped by the gate. Her body was just around the corner. If I took a few steps to the right, I might see it. I… shit, how did I know it was actually ‘a body’? She might have survived the fall. It was possible. She could be merely paralysed. Merely. I had to check. Looking around again to make sure no-one was coming, I dragged my heavy legs – I felt like I was wearing antique diving boots – to the corner of the house and peered around the corner. I could see her on the floor – a dark shape, unmoving, about twelve feet away. There were no sounds, no whimpering, no laboured breathing, sounds that would have told me she was still alive. Though she could be unconscious. I mean, Jesus, if she was still alive, of course she’d be unconscious.

I crept closer, and as I did, the security lights came on, lighting up the whole world, pointing a blazing finger at me. Here’s Alex, everyone. Over here.

I jumped backwards, banging into the wall, stumbling and almost falling. But as I spun away I saw all I needed to see: her head cast at an unnatural angle, neck broken – it was unmistakeable – and her eyes, open, staring. Right at me. My stomach lurched, and I fought it. That would be the worst thing I could do – splattering my dinner and DNA all over the yard. I turned and walked, head down, eyes half-closed, thinking if I can’t see anyone else they won’t see me, and made my way out onto the pavement and along the street. I forced myself not to run, though I was desperate to, wanting more than anything else to flee, to sprint, to put as much distance as possible between me and that dead woman. But I could imagine some curtain-twitcher glimpsing this man running from the scene; a man that police wanted to help them with their enquiries. So I made myself walk, calmly; just a bloke on his way home from the pub. I walked all the way home.

When I got there, I shut my bedroom door behind me and tried to work out if I’d made any mistakes. And most importantly, I thought about how Siobhan would feel when she found out. Because that was what mattered to me most.

Siobhan. My love. The woman I’d die for.

The woman I’d kill for.