Cut You Dead (Dr. Samantha Willerby Mystery #4) - A J Waines Page 0,55
‘It won’t take long. I’m not here to give you a hard time. Quite the opposite. I’ve got something for you.’
You glance down at the plastic bag in your hand.
I stand still, wondering what you could possibly have brought that I’d want and you mistake my hesitation for an invitation. You’re brushing past me into the sitting room before I know it.
I stand with my hands on my hips. ‘As I said, I’m just off to bed.’
You hand me the plastic bag. There’s a bunch of pert yellow roses inside. My favourite.
‘Let’s put some music on, shall we?’ you announce, striding into the area my landlord calls the kitchen, but which is really only a plyboard partition, hiding a mini-oven under a two-ringed hob.
I fold my arms, watching you. What’s going on?
You switch on my ancient CD player and the baseline thud of my favourite band, The Sky Lighters, bursts into the room. It’s the last thing I need right now. I hold my head, a wave of nausea claiming me. You perch on the edge of the sofa, looking up at me with a smile.
‘Sit down and relax,’ you instruct, patting the cushion beside you. ‘You look tired.’
I sit reluctantly, crushing my pillow behind me. I point to the bag. ‘Why have you brought me flowers?’
‘Because you deserve them.’
You turn and slide the pillow out from behind my back. You start plumping it up, with little punches. ‘Because I know things have been difficult lately. Everyone’s been having a go at you about calling off the wedding and I just wanted you to know that, well…’
Before I know it, the world goes grey. It happens so fast, I think the lights have blown. But it’s the pillow that’s blocking out the light and air. It’s against my face, your weight forcing it down.
I fight back, struggling to sit up, but you pin my arms under your knees, straddling on top of me. I hear my nose snap as you throw all your weight onto my face and keep it there. I try to grab the edges of your jacket to drag you off me, but I claw uselessly, unable to grip anything.
I try to buck with my legs, but you’re too strong. I can’t shake you off. I can’t breathe. I suck the cotton pillowcase into my mouth as one song ends and another begins.
Stop! You’ve got to stop!
I’m frantic. Jerking my body up in wild attempts to throw you off. But you’re steadfast. I can’t believe you’re so strong. I didn’t see this coming for one second. The song keeps going and you keep pressing. You’re not going to stop, are you?
My nose throbs with pain and the blood is blocking my nostrils, getting into my mouth. I’m choking. I battle to twist my head from side to side, aching to find the tiniest gap, so air can reach me.
But there is no gap. No air. Instead, a thick black fog soaks into my mouth and fills up all the spaces. The last thing I’m aware of is the music:
Ba-by, you should have kept me in your heart…
41
Sam
The Present
Miranda invited me over for lunch at the CCAP, so I turned up early. I was hoping, on the off-chance, to spot her with Ralph, the new mystery man of hers. The one I wasn’t supposed to know about.
She wasn’t in the café when I arrived, so I drifted into the gallery to see if she was giving anyone an impromptu tour. I saw her gesticulating in front of a large oil canvas, speaking to a woman dressed all in black. I didn’t want to eavesdrop, so I backed off and sat on one of the padded benches by the broad window.
A text came in. From Terry. Inviting me over to his place that evening:
Trying out a new dish: a Pakistani Bhuna Gosht. Need a willing guinea pig who won’t sue me. Any chance? X
The kiss at the end took me by surprise. He’d never done that before. I would have remembered.
I sent a reply back:
Only if you make my favourite dessert – and you have to remember what it is first… No cheating by using your ‘phone a friend’ option. X
A reply came back straight away:
Life is just one big challenge to you, isn’t it, Willerby! Good job I’ve never forgotten the incident at the Uni summer ball with the plate of stolen profiteroles. I assume they’re still your number one? X