Thomas Harris had the chest and arms of a wrestler and the grip to match. Lances of pain shot through Deakes’s hand as Harris squeezed but he was able to keep the pain from showing on his face.
‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jordan,’ Harris said as he waved Deakes into a chair beside Andrea, ‘but I worry that we have wasted your time.’
Andrea rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t dismiss him so readily,’ she said. ‘He found Salina in record time.’
‘I have no doubt he has skills,’ Harris said. He sat down on one of the easy chairs opposite Andrea.
The sign on the door labelled this the Interview Room, though it was one of the most relaxed Deakes had ever seen. Comfortable loungers and a coffee table replaced office chairs and a conference table. The walls were decorated in random bursts of pastel, soothing on the eye. Behind Deakes, an expansive window looked out on the fields of the Asylum for Relocated Cryptids.
‘And he convinced her to join us,’ Andrea added. ‘Within twenty-four hours of first meeting her, I might add. Jordan would be an asset to the team, Harris.’
‘Look, I’m not even sure what you do here,’ Deakes interjected. ‘And even if I did, I’m not certain I want to be a part of it.’
Harris turned his pale blue eyes to him, weighing Deakes up.
‘Then you and I are in agreement,’ he said with a warm smile. ‘I have to say that is a relief. It’s never easy turning someone down.’
‘You’re both wrong,’ Andrea said. ‘I have an idea. Jordan, why don’t you join me on my next job? That will give Harris time to come to his senses.’
‘I’m not interested in chasing down more runaways.’
‘This one is different. In fact, it may require your skills as a P.I.’
‘The Darnell case?’ Harris asked.
Andrea nodded, and said to Deakes, ‘If it helps, I’ll hire you for your assistance.’
‘As much as I don’t like turning down paying work,’ Deakes said, ‘I’d need to know what the job is.’
‘We’re investigating a love cheat.’
Roger Darnell was a scrawny man in his sixties. He sat on his sofa, which was as grey and worn as his face, next to his wife. Constance Darnell was older and more drawn than Roger. To Deakes, neither looked like a typical adulterer.
‘We’ve been married for thirty-eight years,’ Darnell said, ‘and neither of us have strayed before.’
‘Not once,’ Constance said with a shake of her head. In a framed print behind them, Jesus looked down from his crucifix at the fallen pair.
Andrea had introduced her and Deakes as researchers from a local university, involved in the study of the patterns, behaviours and profusion of infidelity. She had assured them that, to encourage subjects to speak freely, the university guaranteed their anonymity. Darnell had informed her that, as good Christians, the married couple would only tell the truth regardless – it was part of the penance they had agreed with each other and with God.
‘You had one dalliance each?’ Andrea asked.
Constance hung her head as Darnell answered.
‘That’s right.’ His words were soft, edged with guilt. ‘Mine was the first. I still don’t know what came over me.’
‘It was that strumpet,’ Constance said. ‘She led you on.’
Deakes turned his gaze to the husband. With sagging shoulders and an inability to make eye contact, he was displaying classic traits of a victim. Perhaps there was some truth in Constance’s words.
‘That would be…’ Andrea began, consulted a notepad and finished, ‘Fran Willis?’
Darnell nodded. ‘She and her husband have been with the church for twelve years and we’ve all been good friends for at least half as long. When Mervyn was away on a recent trip to Iraq, we had Fran over most nights to keep her company.’
‘Is that when you and she grew close?’ Andrea asked.
‘No, not at all,’ Darnell said. ‘Fran and I are – were – nothing but friends. But when Mervyn returned, she was different.’
‘Different how?’ Deakes asked.
‘Whorish,’ Constance said.
‘I’m not sure,’ Darnell said in answer to Deakes. ‘Somehow… alluring.’
When Constance bristled at the word, Darnell turned to her and placed his hand on hers.
‘I’m so sorry, my dear,’ he said. ‘I do not ask forgiveness because I do not forgive myself. But I pray for your peace of mind.’
Sensing that Darnell would clam up now for fearing of upsetting his wife further, Deakes spoke to Constance.
‘Can we ask when you strayed, Mrs Darnell?’
‘A few days later.’ She raised her head but, like her husband, could not look Deakes or Andrea in the eye. ‘Roger confessed the day after his fling. We had spent the night,’ a flush rose on her cheeks, ‘well, that’s not pertinent to this conversation.’
A look of wistful joy flitted across Darnell’s face at the mention of that night and Deakes deduced what had occurred. It was uplifting that, after thirty-eight years of marriage, the two still found one another sexually attractive.
Constance resumed speaking.
‘When Roger told me about him and… her,’ she fairly spat the word, ‘I went to stay with my sister.’
‘And while you were there,’ Andrea said, ‘you had sex with someone else as revenge against Roger?’
Constance’s shoulders tightened and she pursed her lips. The memory was painful for her, Deakes could tell.
‘Philomena’s neighbour was very supportive,’ was all she would say.
For as much as the couple had promised to speak candidly about the situation, it was clear that pressing for further details would only deepen their shame and embarrassment. Andrea thanked them for their time and frankness.
As she and Deakes left, Deakes was concerned for the Darnell’s future. Nearly four decades of marriage and countless years of piety, yet two spontaneous and foolish actions had devastated them.
Back in the Mercedes, Andrea took out her phone and began to type. Deakes waited for her to finish before speaking.
‘This is all very sad, but I fail to see how this needs the attention of ARC.’
‘There’s no obvious reason at the moment,’ Andrea said. ‘It could just be a tragic tale of midlife crises. We’ll have to dig deeper to see if there’s a pattern.’
‘So we go talk to Fran and get her take on the situation?’
‘No,’ Andrea answered as her phone chimed. She looked at the message, smiled and said, ‘We follow the path forward. No point going backwards.’
‘You hired me for my professional help,’ Deakes said as Andrea started the car and pulled away. ‘In every investigation, it’s beneficial to get as much background information as possible.’
‘You saw Roger and Constance,’ Andrea said. ‘Both religious people who were taken over by a sudden carnal desire and neither have a coherent memory to explain why. In all probability, Fran is equally clueless. If we want answers, we need to speak with whoever is currently gripped by the lascivious craving.’
Forty minutes later, Andrea pulled up on a quiet street in Crook’s End. Despite the name, the suburb was one of large homes with affluent owners.
‘We’re here to see Philomena’s supportive neighbour,’ Deakes correctly surmised.
‘That’s right,’ Andrea said. ‘Fletch sent me the details, along with the names of her neighbours. Gerald and Sandra Young.’
Deakes didn’t have to ask how Fletch had obtained the information. He was no stranger to consulting public records during an investigation. The birth registry would have linked Constance to Philomena, her address obtained from voting records and a land registry search could reveal her neighbours.
‘Are you expecting to just knock on his door and ask him about him sleeping with Constance?’ he asked.
‘That’s the plan,’ Andrea said. ‘Do you have something better in mind.’
‘In my experience, people tend not to share tawdry details of their lives with total strangers. Unless they think they’re being accused of something worse.’
‘What do you mean?’ Andrea asked.
‘It’ll be easier to demonstrate than explain. Just let me lead.’
They left the car and walked up the path of number 27. Deakes pressed the doorbell and, without waiting, banged hard on the door. He was about to knock again when he heard footsteps coming from the side of the house. A man appeared, his tanned face twisted with irritation.
‘Can I help you?’ he said sharply.
‘Mr Young?’ Deakes said.
‘Who are you?’ Young asked.
‘We’re investigating the disappearance of a Mrs Constance Darnell.’
Young’s demeanour changed, his impatience replaced by surprise.
‘Are you the police?’ he asked.
‘We just want to ask you some questions,’ Deakes said amiably. ‘Just to get an idea of Mrs Darnell’s last known actions.’
A shadow of guilt washed over Young’s face and Deakes could practically see the thoughts in the man’s eyes. He had shared an immoral tryst with Constance and was worried that it could implicate him in any mishap which may have befallen her. If he lied about their encounter, he feared he’d be at risk of being a more fitting suspect for her current predicament.
His shoulders sagged as he said, ‘Come round to the back.’ He led them around the house to a patio overlooking a long, neatly cut lawn. French doors led into a richly furnished living room.
‘What do you need to know?’ Young said as he perched on the edge of a sun lounger. He ran a hand through his thinning hair, his wedding band catching the sun.
‘We understand you and Mrs Darnell had a sexual relationship,’ Deakes asked. He sat beside Andrea on a second lounger, their backs to the house. ‘When was that?’
‘It wasn’t a relationship,’ Young snapped, ‘it was one time.’
‘If you don’t mind me saying,’ Andrea said, ‘Constance is much older than you. What did you find attractive about her?’
‘What kind of question is that?’ Young asked. ‘How does that help you find her?’
‘We’re trying to get a feel of the woman,’ Deakes said. ‘Please answer.’
‘She was… I don’t know. Captivating. There was something about her that was… undeniable. Is that the right word? All I know is that I would have sooner died than not slept with her. And it was consensual,’ he added hurriedly. ‘She wanted me just as much.’
Deakes believed that. The commonplace idea is that men, when reaching middle-age, chase women half their age. While there was some truth in that, his experience had taught him that older women yearn for younger men even more so. Perhaps they have avoided becoming a stereotype by being more tempered and discreet than their male counterparts.
‘If she was so alluring,’ Andrea asked, ‘why was it just the once?’
Young dropped his head into his hands. ‘She went back to her husband the next day. And…’ he paused, struggling to voice his next confession, ‘I felt dirty. My wife and I have a healthy physical relationship. There’s no need for me to be with another woman. I don’t know why I caved.’
‘Do you think she may have… intoxicated you in anyway?’ Andrea said.
Both men looked at her in confusion.
‘You mean, do I think she spiked my drink?’ Young said. ‘No, not at all. But,’ he paused, head cocked to one side as he considered her question. ‘But it did all feel surreal, like I was drunk.’
‘Had you been drinking?’ Deakes asked.
‘No. It was the middle of the day.’
From the front of the house came the sound of a car door closing. Young started, panic darkening his features.
‘Shit, my wife’s home,’ he said. ‘She doesn’t know anything about this. Please, can we keep it to ourselves?’
Andrea flashed Deakes a look which he read as acquiescence. No point in causing marital friction if there was no need.
‘I think you’ve helped us as much as you can,’ Andrea said. ‘Just one more question. Have you slept with anyone else since Constance?’
Deakes was not sure what bearing the question had but he had the presence of mind not to challenge her in front of Young. Not that he had the opportunity. Young’s reaction was swift and acidic.
‘Just Sandra, but that’s none of your business. Now will you please leave?’
Deakes got to his feet and was about to thank Young for his time when he heard the French doors slide open.
‘Hi honey,’ a woman’s voice said. ‘Who are your friends?’
Turning to face Sandra, Deakes stopped when his eyes fell on her.
Grey-flecked hair dropped to her shoulders. The lines around her inquisitive eyes hinted she was approaching fifty. She wore tan cargo pants and a salmon blouse which clung too tightly to her upper arms. There was nothing remarkable about her appearance yet Deakes was rendered speechless.
Young introduced them but his words were distant and unimportant. All Deakes could focus on was the shape of Sandra’s lips as she replied.
‘Well, it looks like you haven’t even offered them a drink. Let me bring something out.’
Before she turned to go back into the house, she caught Deakes’s gaze and held it for a heartbeat. Deakes felt her need radiating to him, warmer than the day’s sun.
‘I’ll go help her,’ he mumbled, then followed Sandra inside.
She was waiting for him in the kitchen. Four blouse buttons were undone, revealing a bra which presented an inviting cleavage. She reached for his face, brushed his cheek. He put his arms around her and pulled her close. Fingers curled into her hair as his other hand fondled her ample backside. His mouth descended to her neck, eliciting a soft whimper from her.
‘I want you,’ she whispered as she reached for his belt. Her hands grazed against his hardened penis sending a thrill of anticipation through him. He lowered his head, trailing kisses down her throat and chest. His tongue flicked a stiff nipple through the bra. Her ragged breath was interrupted by a quiet cough.
Something soft landed on Deakes’s head. He ignored it even as he felt it slide down his temple.
Andrea’s voice cut through the kitchen.
‘What the hell is that?’
Deakes’s passion was too strong to care that they had been discovered. He looked up at Sandra and saw the lust in her eyes transform into revulsion. She pushed herself from him, one hand to her open mouth, the other pointing at his face.
Straightening himself up, Deakes raised a hand to the wetness at the side of his face. His fingers touched a protuberance of slimy flesh. Panic flushed the carnal desire from him. He plucked the object off his cheek and flung it onto the nearest counter.
What landed defied all logic: an oversized kidney, pink and pulsating. Two green stems extended from one end, flailing independently, while a long white tail sprouted from the other. The thing began to slide to the edge, heading for Deakes.
Andrea stepped forward, taking a glass from the draining board and placing it over the creature.
‘What is it?’ Deakes asked.
‘I don’t know,’ Andrea answered. ‘But I suspect it passed from person to person during sex.’
‘Is that why we…’ Sandra stammered, covering her exposed bosom. ‘I would never…’
The thing reached the side of the glass but was unable to move its prison.
‘It’s possible,’ Andrea said, ‘that it increases the host’s sexual appetite.’
‘Why would it do that?’ asked Deakes.
Andrea shrugged. ‘Who can say? Perhaps it feeds on sexual energy. If so, it was only doing what it needed to do to survive.’
They stared at the creature as it forlornly circled around, looking for escape.
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