Page 52 of The Art of Being a Psychopath

EMMA

We pulled off the road and drove through huge, wrought-iron gates that opened automatically for us, onto a long, winding driveaway. All the while, I was subtly observing Alex, trying to assess his body language as I quizzed him about Sirius Bell. He didn’t give much away. And his answers were what you’d expect any sane, upstanding member of the community to say after a heinous crime had been committed.

In all honesty, I didn’t think Alex was capable of assisting in something of that magnitude of hideousness. But at the same time, I couldn’t shake the little voice in my head, reminding me that he had the largest collection of S.K.A.M. art in the country. That perhaps he knew who he was. And maybe, he was friendlier with him than he’d let on.

Should I be making a run for it when the car stopped?

I stared out of the window with a twist of anxiety in my stomach as we drove through sprawling fields as far as the eye could see. In the distance, the sky was grey and full of rain clouds, but the view was vibrant and green, with lush grass and trees. The driveway we travelled down was lined with short, neat hedges and Victorian lampposts that I knew would look stunning when they were lit up in the evening.

I picked my bag up off the floor and held it tightly in my lap, ready for a quick escape, as I watched the scenery roll past the window. Then I held in a gasp as the house came into view.

Sunford Manor was a huge stately home, a mansion that would give Buckingham Palace a run for its money. There were so many windows I felt sorry for the window cleaner having to clean them all, and I found myself wondering who else lived here. Surely Alex didn’t rattle around inside this mansion alone? He’d have staff, I knew that, but it’d take a whole army to keep an estate like this running. I struggled to stay on top of my housework, and I lived in a tiny, terraced house. And then my nerves hitched, making me feel sick.

What if S.K.A.M. lived here too?

I tried to keep my nerves in check as Alex drove the car around the circular driveway to park by the steps that led to the front doors. A man in a dark suit had already opened the doors to the house and was heading down the steps to meet us.

“Remind me why I’m here again?” I asked as much to myself as to Alex, trying not to panic as the man approached us, and Alex waved him over to my side of the car.

“You humoured me and agreed to come here,” Alex announced chirpily. “Also, we had an appointment. I hate to upset my schedule. And like I said in my text, I think I can help you.” He leaned closer to me, and added, “Try not to overthink it, Emma. We can have a coffee and a chat. No pressure. Maybe you can see the art I told you about. Whatever you feel comfortable with.”

If he could peer into my brain, he’d see that comfort was currently toying with apprehension for dominance. I was on edge. My brain was darting from one wild theory to another, and my world felt like it was on a fast-track to destruction. There was a crazy killer stalking me, and I was weeks, maybe even days away from being a desolate, homeless, down and out.

I gave a fake smile in response, a smile that didn’t reach my eyes as I stepped out of the car, thanking the man for holding my door open. I clutched my bag as I debated running or letting this play out. He did seem to be sincere. And he was insanely hot. Perhaps I should give him the benefit of the doubt. Spend the afternoon with him and enjoy forgetting about life for a while.

“I’d prefer a tea to coffee,” I replied cheekily, injected a lighter mood into my thoughts and dampening the darker ones.

I walked around the car to join Alex on the steps of his manor. “And I’m intrigued by your art collection.”

And sickened by the man who created it.

But I kept that thought to myself.

“I’m pleased you said that. I’ve been dying to show you around.”

Alex instructed the man, who was called Thomas, to park his car in the garage for him, and told him he wouldn’t need it again today.

At first, I didn’t say anything. I guessed he thought I’d book an Uber to get home, despite protesting about me using one earlier. But the warning sirens began to blare loudly, and I had to ask, “You’re not using the car again?”

He leaned his head towards me as he smiled and said, “Forgive me. I’m being a show-off today. I was going to use one of my other cars to drive you home. I wanted to impress you.”

“I’m impressed enough already,” I replied and judging from the way he puffed out his chest, he liked that response.

We climbed the marble steps towards the front doors of the manor, and as we walked inside, I stopped for a second to take in the wonder of the foyer, with its sweeping staircase, and tall, grand windows, that brought so much light into the area. The walls were cream, the carpets too, and in the middle of the foyer, just below the staircase, was a beautiful, mahogany table with a stunning floral arrangement of lilies.

An older woman stood expectantly beside the table, and asked, “May I take your coat?”

She stepped forward, as I tried to pick my jaw off the floor at the grandeur of this home.

I couldn’t help but lift my head, peering in wonder like a child at Christmas at the chandelier that sparkled above us.

And Alex answered, “Thank you, Alma.” As I stood there, struck dumb. My manners flying well and truly out of the window.

“I’m so sorry,” I added, righting myself. “Yes, thank you.” And I slipped Alex’s suit jacket, that I was still wearing, and my flimsy coat off and handed them to her.

“I’d appreciate it if you could hold all my calls while Miss Belmont is here,” Alex instructed. “We don’t want to be disturbed.”

“Of course, Sir.” She bowed and smiled at Alex as she draped my wet coat and his jacket over her arm.