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.

Uncertain Times 2

When I woke up this morning, I heard the bin men take the recycling. The crash and clank of glass bottles reminded me that there are people out there, working to help us through these uncertain times.

Feeling emotional, anxious, scared and uncertain if you're getting paid or if life is going back to normal is OK. There's nothing I can say that will make you feel better. One day, we will wake up to a new normal. Going outside won't feel strange. Remembering to keep your distance from the person in front of you in Sainsburys or the Co-Op  (wherever you shop) will be a faint memory. 

Being furloughed made a few things really important to me. I have one life to make my passions my priority and being happy is the ultimate goal. Like Gary Vee always says, "Money is a tool, happiness is a state of mind."

Take care of yourself, stay safe, stay at home (if you're not working on the frontlines) and wash your hands. This one is the hardest, don't touch your face. 😂

Wonder Woman XXX 

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.