Paul Johnston - The Soul Collector

“After I met Lauren, I was even more delighted. I could see she had similar qualities to my brother and me. I bought her an identical motorbike to mine to muddy the waters. No doubt you already guessed that. As well as that, when I told her about the wonderful surgery I had to my face, she insisted I pay for her operations. They were much more necessary, of course. She wasn’t exactly one of nature’s beauties. After that idiot of a surgeon ruined the good work he’d done, there was so much anger in her. I know my darling brother would have loved that.”

No doubt, I thought-given that he was a twisted piece of shit, too.

“In case you’re wondering, Matt, I made contact with my mother a few months after your book was published. I thought she’d be sickened by it and I was right. What I didn’t expect was that she’d be so keen on helping me and, more recently, Lauren. Of course, my sister had already made her own arrangements with the late earl. Her putting the plastic surgeon’s body in my Oxford house was a surprise to me. It seems she was jealous that I have the looks I do.”

I didn’t tell her that Lauren had left a note saying “Sorry.”

“Then I realized that killing Dave had fired you up. I heard from my mother that a large man with a slight American accent had driven at Lauren when she was handing over a weapon. When I showed my mother a picture of your friend Andy, she recognized him immediately. She knew who you were when you impersonated a detective at her house, but you had no idea, did you?” She laughed. “That ridiculous mustache.”

I wasn’t going to dwell on that. “How did you get into Dave’s house?” I demanded.

She laughed again, and the sound made me shiver. “I had a Salvation Army uniform on. Strange that no one noticed me. I swapped my helmet for the bonnet before I walked up to his door. The idiot fell for it and took the chains off. I changed back into my leathers afterward.”

I pressed my fingernails into the palms of my hands. She talked about wanting revenge for her sister. I wanted it for Dave.

“Actually, I do want to ask you something,” I said.

“At last.”

“Or rather, I want to tell you that I understand exactly how your mind works. Those people you buried alive, the two kids and the woman.”

“What about them?” she asked, as unconcerned as if they had been insects.

“You were never going to tell anyone about them, were you? The idea that they’d take days to die, screaming themselves hoarse through their gags, made you moist, didn’t it?”

There was a gratifying silence. Then she tried to have the last word.

“You know exactly how to do that, Matt.”

“Yeah,” I said. “By running a knife through your shriveled heart.” I hung up.

I should have felt good after that fleeting victory, but I couldn’t. Even though I hadn’t meant to kill Sara’s sister, I’d become a member of the putrid club that they, their brother, Earl Sternwood and Alistair Bing belonged to-the club of those who have brought death to their fellow human beings. What made me feel worse was that, although I’d never forgive myself for Jeremy Andrewes’s death, I now had no regrets at all about my part in Lauren May Cuthbertson’s demise.

When Karen came in that evening, she immediately saw that something had happened.

“What is it?” she asked, after she’d kissed me.

I’d been considering all day whether to tell her. I was inclined not to, but I’d been guilty of too many lies and omissions.

“Screw her,” Karen said after I’d told her about the call.

“It isn’t just her,” I said. “It’s me. I want to kill her.”

To my surprise, she didn’t seem to be particularly shocked. She kissed me on the lips and handed me a bottle of gin. “Just make sure you do it in another country,” she said with a smile.

That wasn’t a bad idea.