Silas Nash book 1: Hush Hush Honeysuckle: Chapter 29

The knock at the door was timid, and there was a whirring in Max’s head that wouldn’t go away. The tinnitus was getting worse, but it wasn’t that. It was only ten thirty, and he’d had to pull on a pair of jogging pants and run to the door in his bare feet. Not looking where he was going, his foot squished into a dead field mouse that Dexter had brought in for him. It was soft and hard and wet. He felt the imprint of the mouse’s tail along the instep of his foot and cringed. ‘Bloody cat.’

He limped to the door on one foot and one heel. As he opened it, he tried for a smile. ‘Morning, Hayley. How’s it going? You look radiant today. I hope Steve’s looking after you.’ He ran out of simpering platitudes and shut up. She was such a nice person, and the law of humanity states that you have to be nice to nice people.

‘How are you, love?’ she asked. ‘You looked so poorly—I mean, tired. You looked tired at the funeral yesterday, and the kids wanted to bake you some brownies. Isla said to tell you they’re special ones.’ She held out a package wrapped in paper with printed unicorns and tied with a red satin bow that reminded him of the black ribbons that Chelsea used in her posthumous circus act. He hadn’t had his medication yet. He was going to puke. Hayley was light on her feet. She just managed to skip out of the way, but he threw up all over his doorstep. Unfortunately, he missed the unicorns.

‘Sorry.’

‘Don’t give it another thought. Are you okay?’ Hayley looked as though she was going to vomit as well, but she was strong and came here to say what she wanted to say. ‘Max, I was wondering.’

‘Yes?’ He was wheezing and struggled to get his breath. Her words were coming at him in a tangled buzz from the tinnitus in his brain, and he didn’t have the energy to separate them from the cacophony.

‘I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but while you were away, dealing with the police accusations, the gardener said he hadn’t been paid for a while and wouldn’t be coming back until he was.’ Shit, he’d forgotten to pay Tom again. ‘Steve’s whizzing over your lawns now, just to keep on top of them.’ He had an image of Steve lying on Max’s lawn, making a snow angel in the grass, and whizzing his tits off. Max wanted to join him. He laughed.

‘Sorry? Are you okay?’

‘Oh nothing, just—that’s so kind of him. Tell him I’m very grateful.’ Please, God, don’t make me go out there and thank him myself. I can’t do anymore being nice. Not yet. Let me sit down. Just let me sit the hell down before I fall down right here in my puddle of vomit. ‘Was there anything else?’

‘Yes, I wondered if you’d like me to come in and give you a couple of hours?’

Would I what? Oh, man, would I, but I don’t think the knackered old body would manage two hours. If that’s what Steve was getting, no wonder he was whistling as he mowed the lawn. ‘A couple of hours?’

‘Yes. Sorry. Hope you don’t mind me saying, but when you were away, I couldn’t help but notice that your stairs could do with a good going over with the vacuum. And that hob. Go on, you go and get comfy, and I’ll sort this mess.’

‘No,’ he screamed. ‘No, thank you, no. It’s okay. I’ll get the hoover out. Today. Yes. I’ll do it today. Thank you, Hayley. Lovely biscuits, tell the kids. Hugs to Isla, Bye, bye. Yes, bye, bye, bye.' He shut the door and had to run for the bathroom.

Max and Nash sat in Amanda Key’s psychic reading parlour after Jessica had called them. Nash was dismissive. ‘We can’t deny that what you’ve told us has some merit, Ms Keys, but much of what you brought us could have been researched and found in the media or on Facebook.’

‘Ignore him. He hasn’t had his Sugar Puffs yet. I think you’re fabulous.’ Max couldn’t resist hamming it up to annoy Nash. He had to have some simple pleasures left in life. ‘What else can you tell us?’

‘I’ve been getting image fragments for several days. I keep seeing a door.’ For effect, her voice went wispy and lacked any substance. ‘A green door that’s old and scratched. It looks like an internal entrance, but it has a Yale lock on it. It had a word scratched in the paintwork at about eye level. No, not a word. Initials. It’s a D and an H. No, that’s not right. I’m being shown a big red road sign with a white cross in the middle, which means I’ve made a mistake somewhere.'

‘Let me save you the performance. The initials were CH,’ Nash said.

‘Close, though,’ Max added.

Jessica said, ‘Inspector, if you’re going to be negative about the reading, perhaps you should wait outside. I’d hate anything to stop Amanda from being able to work.’

‘I’m sorry. Please continue.’

‘I’m getting a King. No, a King’s wife? I’m sorry. This is obviously wrong. I’m just getting a string of garbled messages, somebody saying the word Culpepper. Culpepper? It was spoken about in a police interview recently. I have no idea what it means or if it’s even a real word. Does that make any sense?’

‘Yeah, it does.’ Max couldn’t believe what was coming out of this woman’s mouth.

‘The initials belong to a woman close to Paige and link to a third girl. I’m being told that CH and Paige were close but didn’t know each other. I know it doesn’t make sense, but I can only pass on what I’m given. They are both connected to Paige. CH is Paige’s flatmate? But Paige and the third woman didn’t know each other.’

‘Good, good. Go on.’ Nash was writing relevant points even though the session was being recorded. He’d told Max that writing something makes it real and solidifies it in the writer’s head. Nash couldn’t argue this one, and that information couldn’t be found on good old Facebook.

‘I’m seeing some children, a boy and a girl. They’re fighting. Is this the little boy that keeps coming back to me every time I try to focus? I’m not sure. Same age. Could be him. The girl is screaming. “I hate you. I hate you. I’m going to kill you.” The boy is laughing. Toys, dolls and teddies. A tea party. Something to do with a red teapot.’

Max breathed in hard. ‘I’ve never got on with Mel, but isn’t that the same with all brothers and sisters? It’s laughable to think she’d kill ten people to set me up for filling her teapot with clay when we were kids. That would be some payback prank.’

‘There’s a barman. He saw somebody leaving the pub with one of the girls. It’s confusing information and not coming in the right order. He’s saying it’s you, Max. I can see him in an interview pointing at your photograph. He’s saying, “That’s him there. He was a shifty-looking guy with a crush on Zoe.” He locked up after they left together.’

‘It’s okay. We’ve tied all that up.’

‘And did he say that?’ Max asked.

‘Yep. Word for word,’ Nash said. ‘Personally, I think you’re full of shit, I’m too old to change my opinion, but maybe there is some merit in this psychic stuff. Who knows.’

‘The little boy’s back. He’s showing me a cut finger. The way he’s holding it up to me makes it important. No, he’s gone.’

Max saw Nash’s entire body posture change. He knew more about this than he was letting on.

‘The Florist’s going to strike again. Soon. I’m trying to get some information on the next victim. I can see the killer. He’s going inside a house. He’s dressed in black and holding something in his hand. A knife, maybe. It’s dark. I can’t make out where he is.’ Amanda stared around the room. She threw her hands up and screamed.

Jess was the closest, and she went to her, dropping to her knees to comfort Amanda. ‘What is it? What have you seen? Is he coming for Max?’

‘No.’ Amanda was sobbing and turned into Jessica’s embrace.

‘What then? Tell us what you saw.’

‘He’s coming for me.’