Friday Night Frights 9

Chapter 9

   

   The left tap sputtered and trickled small drops of water into the sink. Bracing himself for the cold water, Billie turned the cold tap clockwise. He rinsed the soap off his hands and dried them on his jeans. Looking up, he opened the medicine cabinet. There was a basic first aid kit, paracetamol, cold medicine, a small box of tampons, anti-septic cream, a bottle of Listerine and a box of plastic gloves. He closed it and walked out of the bathroom.

   
   In the kitchen, Heather was boiling spaghetti and frying veggies with minced meat. A bottle of Chianti was opened an hour earlier and was chilling in the fridge. Billie wrapped his arms around her and kissed the nape of her neck.

   
   “Mmm, you smell so good.”

   
   “I always smell so good.”

   
   He smiled and opened the fridge door. She removed the spaghetti and frying pan off the heat.

   
   “Dinner is ready.”

   
   “I’m ravished.”

   
   She forked out a small amount of spaghetti and spread minced meat and veg on top. Billie poured the wine and they ate on her bedroom balcony. The only room in the flat with a view. When they were done eating, she placed the plates in the sink. Billie searched her bedroom for clues of anything strange or suspicious, but found nothing. He did notice something unusual compared to a normal lived in home. It was super clean. All the surfaces gleamed and shined. There wasn’t a speck of dust. When he heard her footsteps, he turned around and found her in a blue lace lingerie set.

   
   “You’re so sexy, Heather.”

  
    She moved closer to him and started unbuttoning his shirt.

  
    “You thrill me, Billie. Stay tonight, and you won’t regret it.”

   
   “I’m right here.”

   
   He kissed her deeply. Her fingers dung painfully into his crouch. He liked it. With one hand, he unhooked her bra. He was in deep. That night, he lost himself completely in her.

Friday Night Frights 8

Chapter 8

   Billie vomited as he turned the corner from Roots Opticians. The eyeballs bored into his mind, invading his senses. Who is Heather? And why does she have a pair of eyeballs in her handbag? He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The walk to the NCP car park was slow and nauseous. His body slid smoothly into a brown Ford Cortina he inherited from his father. The smell of the leather and pine air freshener settled his stomach. He drove around the Roots Opticians building and spotted the front entrance and the back one.

   
   His stomach gurgled. The thought of food made him feel worse, but if he was going to tail her, he had to eat. He parked on a single yellow line and ran across the street. He entered the Roots building through the back entrance. Scanning the row of sandwiches, he picked a cheese and pickle one, an all-day breakfast one, a bottle of water and a mango smoothie. As he turned to pay for them, he was surprised to see Heather paying for a stick of gum. She turned towards him and smiled.

   
   “DI Turner, I thought you’d left.”

  
    “Yeah, I did. I thought I’d get some food before going home.” He noticed her coat and handbag. “Are you done for the day?”

   
   “Yes, I am. Early shift today.”

   
    He nodded nervously.

   
   “Would you like to join me for a drink?”

  
    “Sure. Just the one though.”

   
    They walked out together into the cloudy day. Billie pointed towards his car.

   
   “My car’s right there. I’ll give you a lift to the pub.”

   
   “There’s no need. Mine’s in the NCP car park.”

   
   “Then let me walk you to it.”

   
   “What a gentleman.”

   
   He laughed to himself. No one’s ever called him that.

   
   “No, Heather, just old school manners.”

   
   “Ah, my car’s just there.”

  
    She unlocked a dark blue BMW with a beep. Billie noted the license plate numbers. His memory was as sharp as it was when he was a young twenty five year old sergeant.

  
    “I’ll meet you at William the Fourth.”

   
   “OK, see you soon.”

   
   Ten minutes later, they were both seated with a pint in Billie’s usual spot. He drained his first pint and signalled to the bar tender for another. Heather took a sip and put it aside.

   
   “Something wrong with your drink?”

   
   “No, it’s not my favourite.”

   
   “What would you like instead?”

   
   She got up and removed her purse from her handbag.

   
   “Don’t get up, I’ll be back.”

  
    He watched her as she walked towards the bar. Something inside him stirred again. He noticed how the pale blue V-neck jumper showed a hint of a cleavage. How the navy pencil skirt cinched in her waist. He swallowed back his need for her. A second beer appeared before him. He drank it slowly imagining himself inside her. She came back with a glass of white wine.

   
   “So, Heather, are you single?”

   
   She laughed out loud. Touching his hand she smiled that smile.

   
   “Detective …”

   
   “Billie, you can call me Billie.”

   
   “Billie, yes I am.”

   
   “It’s hard to imagine.”

   
   “Why is that?”

  
    “A beautiful woman like you? I would never have imagined it.”

  
    “You can imagine it more if you let me cook you dinner.”

   
   Billie’s eyes brightened. Dinner with an irresistible hunter. An unmissable opportunity to look into her nest and see what he can fine.

  
    “What would you like to eat?”

   
   “Surprise me.”

  
    Heather looked at his well-groomed greying brown hair, his full lips and steel blue eyes.

   
   “I can’t wait.”



  

Friday Night Frights 7

Chapter 7

   Billie’s knee jerked when his name was called.

  
    “Mr T…Turner?”

   
   A young woman about the age of twenty, stuttered and corrected herself.

  
    “That’s me.”

  
    He stood up and followed her to the pre-screening area.

  
    “I’m sorry, I meant to say DI Turner.”

   
   “It’s OK, I don’t mind.”

  
    She took him from one machine to another, when she was done, she lead him to Heather’s testing room. After the introductions, he sat in the big chair. Anxiety filled him like moths jerking around in a glass bottle. He plastered a fake smile, hoping that he didn’t look too demented.

   
   “DI Turner, I’ve never had a detective on my chair.”

  
    She smiled seductively.

   
   “What can I say, we all need to have our eyes checked.”

   
   He noticed the curve of her cheek. The waves on her blond hair. Her enticing curves.

   
   Shit.

  
    He was attracted to her. Every time she wheeled her chair closer to him, his body lit up like it was on fire. He had to concentrate on the letters. A knock on the door broke the tension. She swivelled towards the door.

  
    “Come in.”

  
    A tall older man carrying a clipboard entered the room.

   
   “Sorry to disturb you, but Miss Cox is having difficulty with the fields test.”

   
   “I’ll be right back detective.”

  
    “Take your time.”

   
   Heather closed the door behind her. This was his opportunity. He leapt up and carefully opened her handbag. Billie recoiled at the two blue eyeballs that looked up at him from a glass jar. He quickly closed the bag and returned to his seat. There might be something to Jim Hardwick’s letter after all. The door opened and Heather returned to her seat.

   
   “Right, detective, if you sit back, let me take a closer look at those beautiful blue eyes of yours.”

   
   He smiled nervously.

Friday Night Frights 6

Chapter 6

   Billie Turner slapped his hand on the bar and demanded another beer. He wiped his sticky hand on the back of his jeans. When his beer arrived, he carried it over to the darkest spot in the pub. It was a seat that the pub owner of William the Fourth always reserved for him. He pulled out a folded paper from his back pocket.

  
    An unmarked envelope was dropped off at his front door about three days ago. He didn’t know what to make it of it at first. Then he called the phone number that was written with a shaky hand at the bottom of the letter. It was time to re-read it for the third time.


     Dear Detective Inspector Turner,

   
   My wife went to have her eyes checked almost six weeks ago and didn’t return. I went to the police, but they weren’t interested. They kept asking me if she ran away with a lover or if she went to visit her mother in Norfolk. I personally called her mother. She told me that she hasn’t seen her for two months. The thought of her having a lover really hurts me.

  
    Please help me figure this out.

   
   Jim Hardwick


   P.S. Please phone me as soon as you get this letter. I’ve added it below.


   Anxiously Waiting Your Call.


   Billie folded the letter and placed it back in his back pocket. He called him that night. Something in his voice kept him interested in this case. A fresh pint of beer landed on the table. Condensation rolled down the glass and created a tiny pool of water.

  
    “Hey, Billie! Happy retirement day.”

   
    His best friend Marc sat down opposite him with his own pint.

   
   “Retirement shtirement. Cheers!”

  
    They clinked pints and drained it in one go.

   
   “What’s the plan Billie? Are we going to pull tonight or what?”

   
   “I always pull, I don’t know about you.”

  
    Marc eyed a familiar pair of legs. They moved towards him and stopped. He looked up and hid his face from her.

   
   “You! Why did you leave so quickly last night?”

  
    A tall blonde with short wavy hair and bright pink lipstick stood with her hands at her hips.

  
    “Ugh, family emergency.”

   
   “Liar!”

   
   She grabbed Billie’s fourth pint and threw it at his crotch.

   
   “Oh My God! Crazy woman!”

   
   He stood up with more beer dripping down his legs. Billie grabbed his arm and pulled him down.

  
    “Calm down, this happens to you almost every other night.”

  
    “Yeah, well, I haven’t done my washing.”

  
    “Pizza at your place?”

   
   “Deal! You get the beers.”

   
   Billie pulled out the letter again.

   
   “What do you think of this Marc?”

  
    He held the letter by its corners as if it’s contaminated. Years on the force trained him to not leave traces behind.

   
   “It looks like you need to book an eye test.”

   
   “I think you’re right.”

  

  

Friday Nights Frights 5

Chapter 5

   Soap bubbles fell away from her when she got out of the bathtub. After drying off, she pulled on a white set of PJs. The microwave pinged in the kitchen. A bowl of leftovers steamed and dripped off the sides of the microwaves. Earlier in the week, she made a large portion of spaghetti bolognaise and spicy noodles.

  
    She ate in the kitchen while watching Making a Murderer on her laptop. A sense of calm spread through her. There wasn’t a single drop of blood on her duvet. She managed to pop Tom’s eyes out of their sockets, wiped the blood off his face and slipped them into a honey jar in record time. His body was buried in her neighbour’s garden. She knew the old lady didn’t have cameras installed for security and that she was in the hospital recovering from a broken hip. 


      At around 9PM, she settled down on the sofa and called her mother.

  
    “Mother, how are you?”


   There was an uncomfortable silence.

   
   “Hetty, I’m not well.”

  
    “Are they looking after you?”

  
    Her mother was locked up in a mental institution after being convicted of killing her husband, and eating his heart. Heather was only four years old. Her aunt Gemma took her in until she was eighteen.

   
   “They’re not giving me my telly.”

   
   “What happened mother?”

  
    “I bit Nurse Nelly’s hand.”

   
   “Why did you do that?”

   
   “I was hungry. Are you going to visit me?”

   
   “Not right now mother. I’m going to bed now. Good night. And don’t bite anybody.”

  
    “Hetty? Where are you go…?”

  
    Heather hung up and climbed into bed. When she closed her eyes, she dreamed of blue eyes.

  

  

Friday Night Frights 4

Chapter 4

   “Would you like a cup of tea?”

   
   “I’d love one, thanks.”

   
   Heather poured hot water in a couple of plain white mugs. She felt nothing while she watched him pull the wet hoodie over his head. His shirt lifted, and she spotted an attractive flat stomach. When was the last time she had sex? She couldn’t even remember. Her views of sex were animalistic and even gross. It’s not something she even enjoyed or sought after, but it didn’t stop her from exploring her own sexuality, by herself. She unzipped her own hoodie and dropped on the floor.

   
   Tom pulled her close to him. They kissed briefly before they headed towards the bedroom. He stopped at the threshold.

   
   “Why is everything white?”

   
   “I like it.”

   
    He shrugged off the uneasy feeling at the pit of his stomach.

   
   “Why don’t you undress? I’ll just go to the bathroom.”

  
    “Okay.”

  
    Heather pulled a drawer open in the bathroom. She removed a pair of hair cutting scissors and slipped them into the waistband of her underwear. In the bedroom, Tom was lying back against a couple of white pillows. The only thing that wasn’t white was a small metal bowl. It looked almost surgical. She placed it on the side of the bed.

   
   Tom moved towards her, but she pushed him back. She unhooked her sports bra and let it fall on the floor. Her admire her slim figure. His hands moved up and down her back.

  
    “Close your eyes, Tom.”

   
   “Okay. Are we getting kinky?”

  
    “If you lay very still and be quiet, you’ll find out.”

   
   She moved the bowl next to his neck. With a swift stab, blood ran thick and fast into the bowl. He attempted to sit up, but she pushed him down until he didn’t move at all. The blood slowed and eventually stopped.

  
    Lifting his right eye lid, she aimed the sharpest part of the scissors at the corner of his eye.

Friday Night Frights 3

Chapter 3

   Rain pelted down Islingword Road staining the pavement black. Vapour illuminated the almost pitch black night while Heather ran down the hill. She turned down Upper Rock Gardens street and forced her feet to run faster along the sea front. Her foot tripped against a loose pavement slab and she fell straight into a wet hoodie.

  
 A pair of damp strong hands pulled her up on her feet. Her eyes landed on a pair of dark blue eyes. An electric shock went right through her.

   
   “Are you okay?”

  
    She stood up straight and pretended to limp.

   
   “I’m not sure. My ankle. It hurts.”

   
   “I’ll take you to A&E if you want.”

   
   “Oh no. It’s okay. I’ll just get a taxi home.”

   
   Rain drops saturated his black metal rimmed glasses. He put an arm around her and hailed down a taxi. She told the driver where she lived.

  
    “Let me look at that ankle.” He pulled her leg over his and unlaced her trainer. “I’m Tom by the way.”

   
   “I’m Heather. I’m sure my ankle is fine.”

  
    She looked away, annoyed at the whole situation. His fingers made their way up her calf. He looked at her in that way. He wasn’t unattractive. She pretended to smile when she climbed out of the taxi, reminding herself to limp.

   
   “Are you sure you’re alright?”

  
    She pulled out her hair band and shook her long blond hair loose.

  
    “Why don’t you come in?”

Friday Night Frights 2

Chapter 2

   Heather scrolled down the appointment diary wondering if her first patient of the day will show up. A knock on the door pulled her attention away from the diary.

   
   “Come in.”

   
   Sarah, an assistant manager at Roots Opticians, smiled nervously at her.

  
    “Hi, Heather, your first patient just called in sick.”

   
   “Okay, thanks Sarah.”

  
    She walked in and brushed her red curly hair behind her left ear.

  
    “I tried to find Samantha Cox-White’s and Richard Reading’s record cards, but couldn’t find them. They were both here in June of last year and are overdue on their sight tests.”

  
    “Okay, thanks for looking.”

  
    “You’re welcome.”

   
   She closed the door behind her.

   
   Heather pulled her handbag over her shoulder, noted down the two names on a Post-It note and made her way into the lab, which is also called the filing room. Grace and Liz greeted her as she walked in. ABBA were singing Mama Mia on the radio. While Grace had her back turned filing away at the Gs drawers and Liz was on her phone, she pulled an almost empty drawer open, and placed the jar of blue eyes behind a wad of files. It was the last S drawer. Standing up, she straightened her white shirt and pretended to look for the Samantha Cox-White’s file.

  
    “Can I help you with anything?” Grace asked.

  
    “Oh no, it’s okay. Sarah tried to find these files earlier, but couldn’t find them.”

  
    “I can have another look. You never know. Fresh eyes and all that.”

  
    “Ah, alright.”

  
    She handed her the Post-It note.

  
    While testing her next patient, all she could think about were fresh eyes.

Writing Journal Day 1. 5.20AM

https://youtu.be/NegBbAXmgEQ