Sinister Scribblings - Volume 1 Page 5

  It hadn’t always been that way. Geoffrey had once been a household name as the host of the children’s hit television show; Rainbow. His face was easily recognised by millions on prime-time television between 1973 and 1991.

  After the show got cancelled, he struggled to find work. It was rumoured that he went on to do more theatre work and eventually found a job as a London taxi driver but that wasn’t the case. The truth was that he fell into a deep depression and was locked up in a high security mental hospital in southern England in 1995.

  Geoffrey had been submitted to a psychological screening following his admittance to the hospital. The doctors had been assigned to investigate his mental state as he was a suspect in the disappearance of a twenty-five-year-old woman.

  The woman, Linda Davis was a prostitute that claimed that Geoffrey had spent months stalking her after paying for her services a few times. She claimed that he was in love with her, and that he repeatedly showed up unannounced at her flat while she was trying to work with her punters.

  In late 1994, her landlord, although some suspected that he was her pimp, had reported her missing. Geoffrey had been brought in for questioning by the police, but all that they had on him was an accusation of him stalking her and no real evidence. He had broken down in the interrogation cell at the police station where he had been questioned. The officer that questioned him at the time made a note that he thought Geoffrey may have been unstable.

  Linda’s body was never found, but in the following months, Geoffrey’s life had begun to spiral out of control. He became addicted to prescription drugs and was often found wandering the seedy back streets of London, while pestering prostitutes. When questioned by the law he would claim that he was trying to find Linda.

  The real clincher was when the authorities were called to an incident on Tower Bridge where a man was about to throw himself to his death. When police arrived on the scene, they managed to talk Geoffrey down from the suicide attempt. The man was totally naked, and wearing nothing but a brown bear mask. One of the characters from his TV show – Bungle. His flaccid penis flapped in the gentle breeze. It transpired afterwards, when the police searched his home, that he had been stealing and stockpiling items from the show and keeping them as souvenirs.

  A doctor’s assessment of his mental health stated that he was a danger to himself and a danger to the public. He was admitted to Wentworth Mental hospital indefinitely.

  Over the years, once or twice, his mental health showed signs of improvement but inevitably, something would trigger the memories of his success and stardom, or the loss of Linda, and he would once more come crashing down into the abyss.

  It had taken nigh on twenty years for the authorities to be convinced through medication and treatment that Geoffrey was fit to be rehabilitated back into society. The hospital’s development team had done a great job with his screening and testing. They had placed him onto a government outreach program where he was given a small council flat and they even helped him to find a job in a shop at his local shopping mall. For the first time in twenty years, Geoffrey’s life was on the up.

  Walking through the shop, he passed the large collection of VHS videos, DVDs, books and CDs that he had personally sat and painstakingly organised by category, genre and finally alphabetically. He walked past the racks of men’s and women’s clothes that he had sorted by size and by colour. He smiled at his home-made sign that hung above the racks of shoes next to the clothes shelves; ‘Today’s special offer, buy one, get one free.’

  Walking past the tills and into the back office, next to the changing rooms, he knocked the switch down to start the kettle boiling and hung his coat on the hook on the back of the door, swapping it in turn for the green tabard that he wore while he served in the shop. Dropping a tea bag into his cup, he whistled merrily as he waited for the kettle to boil.

  You can’t march to war without a cup of tea.

  The kettle boiled and he poured the boiling water into the cup before checking the staff rota on the wall. Being a charity shop, he was the only real employee, the rest of the workers were volunteers from the local area.

  He spotted that, this morning, he would be working with Betty, a woman in her mid-sixties; a widower who had lost her husband a few years prior. Betty was a pleasant lady, short and plump, with white curly hair. She always had a good word to say about anybody and she was never stuck for something to say.

  Geoffrey’s heart sank slightly when he saw that he would be working with Karen this afternoon. Karen was the only other volunteer that he struggled to really get along with. She was in her mid-thirties. She had a cruel, scrunched up face and always wore her brown hair tied back in a ponytail, pulled so tight that it would almost give her a make-shift facelift.

  She tended to be short or rude with the customers and spent more time drinking tea and complaining about being at work than actually offering any type of help. He really wondered why she volunteered for the shop in the first place.

  Geoffrey pulled a green pill bottle from his jacket pocket and shook out two of his anti-depressants into his hand. He threw them into his mouth and washed them down with a swig from his mug of his tea. His tablets had become an integral part of his routine and his rehabilitation. Without his medication, he found his mental well-being come crashing down around him.

  He finished up his cup of tea just as Betty shuffled into the office.

  “Good morning, Geoffrey,” she greeted pleasantly as she hung up her own coat. “What a lovely morning for this time of year, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Good morning, Betty. And yes, I would totally agree with you.”

  They had a short chat and exchanged pleasantries about what they had both been up to since they had both seen each other last week. Eventually, Geoffrey asked, “Right then, Betty, shall we go and man the fort?”

  “Of course,” she replied.

  They both walked from the back office and into the main shop. It was still empty. Betty went off to arrange some of the ladies clothing on the racks while Geoffrey manned the tills. After about twenty minutes, a middle-aged man came in carrying three large bags of women’s clothing.

  Geoffrey greeted him with a pleasant smile. “Good morning, sir.”

  “Oh, please don’t call me sir,” the man laughed. “I’m only used to being called sir when it’s followed by would you please leave? My name is Ryan.”

  “Okay, Ryan, what can I do for you today?”

  “I just wanted to drop off some of my wife’s old things. She won’t be needing them any longer.”

  Geoffrey looked down and inspected the three bags. They were stuffed to the brim with stylish women’s clothing. He couldn’t help but notice the white jumper that was neatly folded and placed in top of one of the bags, and the spots of dried red liquid down its front.

  The man spotted Geoffrey looking at the garment.

  “Oh, don’t worry about that one,” he said as he snatched the jumper from inside the bag, quickly rolling it up and shoving it inside his coat. “I’m a butcher by trade. It’s just a few spots of blood from where I’ve been cutting up the meat.”

  Geoffrey looked at the man, suspiciously. “Some of these clothes look practically brand new. You are aware that this is a charity shop and that we won’t be able to offer you any kind of payment?”

  “That’s not a problem,” the man began. “Charity begins at home. That’s what I always say.”

  “That’s most kind of you. Thank you very much.”

  “That’s not a problem. Goodbye,” the man replied, before turning and walking back towards the entrance to the store. As the man reached the doors, he paused and took a glance left and then right before heading off and mingling into the crowds outside the store.

  “Betty, would you mind sorting through these clothes,” Geoffrey asked, as he dropped the two big bags on the carpeted floor next to her.

  “Of course,” she replied as she opened the first of the two bags. “Hey, some of these look
brand new, Geoffrey.”

  “I know,” he replied. “A very nice man just brought them in. They used to be his wife’s, apparently.”

  Betty continued to sort through the selection of clothes and place them on hangars before placing them from the metal racks.

  Geoffrey returned to the tills just in time to greet a female customer. The woman was dressed in a smart two-piece black suit, and her brown curly hair was tied back in a loose pony tail. She carried herself with a certain air of professionalism and authority.

  He greeted her with a smile.

  “Good morning, what can I help you with?”

  “Good morning,” the woman began. “My name is Detective Inspector Hayley Marshall.”

  She removed an identification badge from the inside pocket of her jacket pocket and held it up in front of Geoffrey’s face. Geoffrey immediately panicked; his thoughts quickly snapped back to his previous years and being questioned by the police for the disappearance of Linda Davis.

  He blurted out, without thinking, “I’ve told you people before, I don’t know what happened to her.”

  The woman returned his gaze suspiciously. She frowned. “No, you seem to misunderstand. You see, I wanted to ask you about an incident in the food hall of the shopping mall a few days ago.”

  Geoffrey breathed a sigh of relief. He was sure that the detective was about to question him once more, about the disappearance of the prostitute.

  “The food hall?” he asked.

  “Yes, there was an incident on Saturday where several people appear to have been poisoned. Our initial investigations have indicated that it may be linked to the Orange Shake Shack. It appears that several people were spiked by contaminated shakes.”

  Geoffrey thought back to Saturday; his mind vaguely recalled a few dozen men and women running around the food hall screaming. He had assumed that it was down to the free shake promotion that the Orange Shack were running. At the time, he hadn’t paid much notice to the commotion.

  “I saw something,” Geoffrey began, “I was walking back through the food hall after grabbing a burger for lunch, but I didn’t see much in all honesty. I was in a rush to get back to the shop, and I didn’t pay much attention.”

  “You walked back through a food hall, where people were collapsing, vomiting and convulsing on the floor and you didn’t pay much attention?” she asked. The D.I looked at Geoffrey, her eyes once again narrowing.

  Geoffrey shrugged his shoulders, unsure of what to really say to the officer.

  “Well, I didn’t see all that. I just thought that it was a stampede for the free shake promotion. I didn’t really question it.”

  “And didn’t you see the several police officers that arrived on the scene afterwards, or notice the fact that they had to totally evict the food hall? It’s still cornered off now.”

  “I did see the police officers,” he admitted, “but there’s always something going on at this mall. You kind of ... get used to them.”

  The woman raised an eyebrow.

  “So, you’re telling me that you didn’t see or hear anything that you would consider suspicious?”

  Geoffrey gently shook his head, “This is one of the busiest shopping malls in the country. There are thousands of people coming in and out every day. Sometimes, the things that are going on in the clear view of the public are the easiest to hide.

  The woman shook her head. Reaching into the inside pocket of her jacket once more she produced a business card. She handed it to Geoffrey. “If you remember anything. Anything, please give me a call,” she said.

  Geoffrey inspected the business card; there was nothing special about it, it was probably from a machine at a service station.

  “Okay, will do”, he smiled. The woman turned and headed out from the shop. Geoffrey sighed, relieved from the initial panic, the moment when the woman had flashed her identification at him. For the first time in quite a while, Geoffrey had come close to going back to that dark place.

  He felt a little shaken, but not too bad. He looked at the clock that sat on the wall next to the till. The time was approaching 11:15 a.m.

  “Betty,” he called over to the woman who was continuing to sort through the clothes. She looked up when she heard her name. “Can I get you a cup of tea?”

  “Oh, I would love one please, Geoffrey.”

  “Okay, would you mind the store for a few minutes while I go and make it?”

  “Of course not,” she called back.

  Geoffrey walked into the office at the rear of the store and put the kettle on. While he was waiting for it to boil, he thought back to the last time that he had seen Linda Davis.

  They were both stood outside the woman’s flat, where he had turned up with a bunch of flowers that he had stolen from the communal garden.

  “Geoffrey, you have to stop turning up like this. I’ve told you before.”

  “But I’ve brought you some flowers,” he said, gesturing to the wilting plants and lump of dry soil in his hand.

  She shook her head. “Geoffrey, we’ve been through this. I’m a working girl. I work from home. I can’t afford to bring clients back here and have them bump into you.”

  “But I love you,” he said.

  The woman blew out a deep breath. “We’ve been through this, Geoffrey. You don’t love me. You’re just lonely, and you think I’m the solution.”

  Geoffrey reached into his pocket and pulled out a small jewellery box. He held it up in the palm of his hand in front of the woman’s face. “No, look,” he began, “I’m serious. Look, I’ve got you a ring.”

  The woman blew out another deep breath and began to close her eyes as Geoffrey fumbled to open the jewellery box between his fingers and thumbs. It snapped open and he held it up in front of the woman.

  “Look,” he proclaimed.

  “Geoffrey,” she stuttered. “Is that a –“

  “Oh, yes,” he interrupted. “But don’t worry, I will get you a proper one when I get back on my feet.”

  The woman slowly took a step backwards. “Geoffrey, you’re sick. You need help.”

  He felt the pain and hurt explode in his chest, like he had been blasted with a shotgun.

  “But, I love you.”

  “You’re sick, Geoffrey. We need to get you some help.”

  The man snapped the lid back just on the jewellery box and dropped it back into his pocket. “I’m not sick,” he spat at her. “It’s you, leading men like me on. Making them think that they stand a chance. If I can’t be with you, can I at least book a fuck like another punter?”

  “No, Geoffrey, you can’t. You’re ... weird,” she said. “Some of the things that you wanted me to do … They’re just not right.”

  Geoffrey felt the anger rising up through his body. The hatred began to course through his veins like pure venom. He produced a lump hammer from inside his coat pocket.

  “If I can’t have you,” he said, “nobody else is having you.”

  Geoffrey sprang back into the here and now just as the kettle was beginning to boil. He filled the two cups and took them out to the front of the shop where Betty was waiting. They stood at the counter chatting for the next half hour. A few people came in to browse the store, but nobody brought anything and nobody made any purchases.

  Glancing over to the clock on the wall again, it was nearly 12:15 p.m.

  “Go on, Betty,” he said. “You may as well get yourself off a little early. It’s quiet in here, and Karen is scheduled to be here soon, so don’t worry about it.”

  “Only as long as you’re sure,” she said.

  He winked. “Go on, get yourself off home.”

  Betty shuffled off into the office at the back of the store to gather her belongings. A few moments later, she came walking slowly back through the door.

  “Bye, Geoffrey,” she shouted over her shoulder. “I’ll see you next week.”

  “Bye, Betty.”

  He stood at the tills and inspected the shop. Betty had done
a great job of organising the new clothes. He walked from behind the counter and over to the electrical section. It was mainly a varied collection of music that had been there for a while now. For some reason, they never seemed to sell that well, despite most of the CDs being on sale for only fifty pence each.

  I guess it’s just a changing world.

  An old television that had been brought in just a few weeks earlier, along with an aging hi-fi system, were still on display. Both of the items were on sale for next to nothing but in the current state of throw- away society, Geoffrey feared that they would still be there for a while.

  At that moment, an elderly lady entered the shop. She was holding a couple of carrier bags in one hand and a black leather holdall in the other. He smiled and greeted the woman. “Good afternoon, madam, what can I do for you?”

  “I’ve just got some items that I’d like to drop off, if that’s okay?”

  She handed him the two carrier bags and he inspected the items within. They were mainly old fashioned women’s dresses that had seen better days.

  “I hope you can use them,” she said, “it seems a shame to just throw them out.”

  Geoffrey nodded. “I’m sure we can do something with them.”

  He folded up the garments and placed them on the surface of the counter, when the woman spotted him looking at the leather holdall. “Oh,” she said, “I almost forgot. I’ve just found this bag down the side of one of the bins out there in the shopping mall, when I stopped for a sit down. I had a look in the items in there but I’m not sure what they are. I thought I would bring them in. In you can use them, please do, if not I thought you could just throw them in the bin.”

  “Okay,” he said, and placed the holdall down on the counter while he collected the garments and moved them over to the clothing section ready for when Karen came in.

  “I’m going to have to shoot now,” the lady said as she slowly walked back towards the store entrance. “My daughter is picking me up in a short while. Bye.”

  “Goodbye,” He called after her. “Thanks for the stuff.”