Page 32 of M for Murder

S aturday was normally their one day together. In the summer they would go to the beach or the park, and, when the weather was colder, they often spent the afternoon at a craft fair or museum, or in an old movie theatre.

Today, though, was different. Lawrie had work to do at college and insisted that it couldn’t wait until after the weekend. He’d refused to bring it home with him, telling Kylan that she would be too much of a distraction. Kylan guessed she should be flattered that he couldn’t concentrate on work while she was around, and she knew that with the extra classes he had taken on he was being worked into the ground.

Still, she felt disappointed and a little annoyed, and spent the entire day at a loss for what to do.

At least she had the evening to look forward to. Tonight they had arranged to go out for dinner with Vic Boaz and his girlfriend, Jill. Vic had called and made reservations for Angelo’s, a classy, uptown Italian restaurant, one that both she and Lawrie were very familiar with and was coming to pick them up at eight. Glancing at the hands of the kitchen clock, Kylan saw she had nine and a half hours to go.

The first two hours she spent doing household chores: dusting, polishing and vacuuming. They were all jobs she tended to put off for as long as possible, finding it difficult to fit them in with being at college full time. Today she had no excuse and, as she cleaned, she was reminded of the saying, When you have time to kill, make sure you don’t murder a good opportunity. An amusing saying, maybe, but the words kill, and murder always sent a chill through her heart.

Her mind went to Scott Jagger, the student who had recently been found dead, and she quickly tried to shake the thoughts.

When her work was finished, she made herself comfortable on the large couch in the living room and read for a while. A couple of weeks back when she and Lawrie had been at a craft fair, they had discovered a quaint little stall full of second-hand books, most of which she hadn’t read since she was a child. She’d bought Jamaica Inn and Tender is the Night and was currently halfway through Fitzgerald’s tragic love story.

Thinking about Lawrie, hard at work, and looking forward to the evening, Kylan found that she couldn’t concentrate on the book and, after turning half a dozen pages and realising that she hadn’t actually read the words, she gave up on the idea. She returned her bookmark to where she’d originally picked the story up, placed the book back on the shelf and went through to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee, deciding that that she needed to get a life and think of things she could do when by herself.

Shopping was a possibility. She was miserable and spending money always cheered her up. The idea was appealing, but not realistic, as she and Lawrie were struggling to get by on one salary. Lawrie had financed her return to college, and it wasn’t fair to expect him to buy her a new wardrobe that she didn’t need.

She wished Tania were here. She would know what to do. Now that her sister had moved again and she only saw her a few times a year, Kylan realised just how much she missed her.

She thought of calling Donna and Ally, her two best friends from college, to see if they wanted to do something, but then she remembered that they would be spending the day with their boyfriends, the way that she normally spent her Saturdays with Lawrie. Her mind still preoccupied with thoughts of Lawrie, she gazed absently through the rising steam of the coffee pot out of the kitchen window.

At first, she didn’t notice the man, and initially he didn’t see her at the window looking at him. Their eyes met at the same time and, recognising the pale features and pimply skin, Kylan felt her heart lunge into her mouth.

Quickly, she took a step back.

It took a second for her mind to register where she knew the man from and, as soon as that second had passed and she had placed him in the checkout queue and parking lot, an icy hand clamped over the pit of her stomach.

‘Oh my God!’ she half whispered to herself, barely aware that she had spoken aloud. Her legs shaking, her head fuzzy, she rushed to bolt the lock on the front door, unaware that he was no longer standing there.

It had been a close call. He shouldn’t have let himself get so close. He was certain that she had recognised him from the grocery store, but how much she had read into it and whether or not she understood he was there because of her, he wasn’t sure. He guessed he’d been asking for trouble, standing in the street in broad view for everyone to see. He should have kept to the shadows like he had been doing for the past couple of weeks. The last he had known; she had been reading in the living room at the back of the house. He had watched her for a while, thinking how lovely she looked dressed simply in a pair of denim shorts and a navy T-shirt, her tanned bare legs crossed at the ankles and dropping casually over the end of the couch. Her pale-blonde hair caught the light of the sun reflecting on the window and her eyes, big and brown, looked up every now and then to glance idly round the room.

It pained him to know that he held her life in his hands.

She wasn’t the only one, though, he reminded himself. There would be others first; others who still had to be selected; others who needed to be watched.

After checking that every door and window in the house was locked, Kylan ran back through to the kitchen and over to the phone that hung on the wall. She grabbed the receiver and was relieved to hear the familiar dialling tone. She didn’t know why, but she had half imagined finding the phone line dead. That was what always happened in the movies, wasn’t it?

This isn’t the movies though. This is real life.

Real life can be just as scary, she reminded herself. With shaking fingers, she punched in the number of the college.

The phone rang ten times, each ring in unison with the thrashing beat of her heart, before it was answered by a surly-sounding receptionist. Kylan asked to speak to Lawrie and was then left on hold, listening to the melodious sound of Chopin, as the receptionist paged through her call. While she waited, she glanced cautiously around the kitchen, half expecting the man to appear in the doorway, or come crashing through the window.

Eventually the call was answered, though not by Lawrie. Instead it was the surly receptionist again.

‘There’s no answer in the English Department. Would you like me to leave a message?’

No answer? Where was Lawrie?

Kylan declined the offer, thanked the receptionist and hung up the phone. She contemplated calling the police.

And tell them what? That the man who stood behind you in the grocery store a couple of days ago was just standing outside your house?

Get a grip, Kylan, you’re going way over the top.

Drawing deep breaths to calm her nerves, she cautiously made her way over to the kitchen window. There was definitely no sign of the man. Whoever he was had gone. She knew that there had to be a reasonable explanation though for why she’d seen him. Maybe he lived locally and the route to his house took him down this road.

So how come you’ve never seen him out there before?