Chapter 3

"You'd better run old, woman." The heckling was merciless. "If you're not out of sight in two minutes, we'll set the dogs on you."

As she fled, Monica Porter prayed the thugs would not carry out their threat. She knew the danger, for they were no different from many others who had made fun of her along the way. The old woman had lost count the times when she'd been spat at, ridiculed at, or hounded away. People were vindictive, especially to those who had no fixed address or money. Generally, they would bestow scorn and contempt towards her. Being unwelcomed was something she had learned to live with. She was under no illusions and there were times when she met with kindness and compassion, but these occasions were few and far between. Yet Monica had neither home nor family, no one who would miss her if she disappeared into the darkness. Her life was in the diaries she so jealously guarded. In spite of her dishevelled, neglected appearance, the old woman spoke in a soft, well-bred manner that might have astounded the malevolence faces that saw her only as an object of derision. Like many others who had never taken the trouble to know her, they would have been astonished to learn that Monica Porter, the unkempt and aged vagabond who tramped the streets, carrying all her worldly possessions in a soiled tapestry bag, was once a fine, respected lady. Gasping and exhausted, Monica came to a busier part of the dock.

"Morning dear, are you alright?" Nikki asked, watching the old woman who looked tattered and worn. Monica turned nervously, wondering if her pursuers were following. They were, and her heart sank. If only she was younger, stronger, she might give them a run for their money. Nikki paused in mid thought. She had seen the fear in the old woman's eyes and noticed how the thugs hovered a short distance away. She bristled. "Bothering you, are they, ma'am?" When Monica nodded, Nikki walked away, spoke to a couple of ship workers who were unloading the dock, and together they approached the thugs. On seeing the other bigger men, the thugs made off like the hooligans they were.

"I suspect that they won't be bothering you in the future, ma'am." Nikki smiled as she took in Monica's appearance. She was shivering. "Where are you headed to?"

"Nowhere in particular." Monica said looking down. Although she was grateful that the stranger came to her defence, she knew not to get too friendly.

Nikki regarded her with concern. There was an air of dignity about the old woman that startled her. Her smile was bewitching, and her dark brown eyes were arresting, deep and troubled yet filled with the brightness of a summer's morning. Nikki bent to stroke the cat that was in the old woman's tapestry bag, which seemed to be frightened. "Not very friendly is he?"

"She's just hungry, that's all." Monica fussed on about the cat.

"My name is Nikki Wade, and you are?"

"An old tired woman," Monica chuckled, which didn't go unnoticed by Nikki. It was nice to see the old woman had a sense of humour.

Nikki smiled, running her fingers through her hair. This woman had spunk. "Pity she's not fierce though," Nikki commented on Monica's worn out cat. "Those hooligans might not have been so keen to tail you."

Monica smiled. "That's because she's not a cat, really," she joked. "She's an old watcher in disguise. And you shouldn't be keen on stereotyping her either. She's feistier than she looks."

"You're not exactly a killer of the un-dead. You ought to be more careful ma'am," Nikki warned. "This area is known for louts with nothing better to do with their time. Anyway, what brings you out on a cold November morning when most folks are in their warm comfortable bed?" Nikki could see the old woman was cold, and shivering. With only a thin skirt and tattered old jumper covered by a shawl, she was trembling. Nikki suspected that maybe she didn't have a home to go to.

In a soft, well-mannered tone that amazed Nikki, she explained, "The name is Monica Porter and some of us don't have a bed for comfort." Monica's answer shamed Nikki and she was slightly embarrassed by it all.

"I'm sorry if I sounded a bit rough. I didn't mean to generalize," Nikki murmured, digging in her pocket and taking out 50 pounds. "It's all I've got on me, I do apologise, but I'd like you to have it, please."

Putting up her hand, Monica smiled and then she held Nikki's hand. She held it for a long while, looking deeply into Nikki's eyes as if she was looking into her soul. That troubled Nikki. Then Monica released Nikki's hand, her face changed. It was mixed with melancholy and optimism. "I don't need your hard earned money, dear. You've been awfully kind enough. I'm very grateful, but now we best be on our way." Monica turned, heading away from the docks.

Nikki was left stranded. She felt the need to help this old woman, but why? When Monica held Nikki's hand, something passed through them. It was eerie and it couldn't be explained through reason or rhyme. "Wait a minute!" Nikki shouted. Monica's soft smile and independent manner reminded Nikki of her late grandmother, though her grandmother had kind, wrinkled eyes, while Monica had clear dark, striking eyes. "Where will you go?" Nikki asked.

"Here and there." Experience had taught Monica to be careful with strangers. Even with kind ones.

"Might as well find a warm place to have breakfast," Nikki said, "and I'm not taking 'no' for an answer." Nikki smiled warmly. She wasn't ready to let the old woman go. She wanted to know more about her and her life. It sadden her to think that she roamed the streets alone with no home to go to."

Still wary of the thugs who had threatened her, Monica glanced nervously behind. "Looks like we've lost the little devils," she smiled. "I suppose it'd be safe enough now."

"Come on, Monica," Nikki gently held her hand out. "A little company for a change would do you good, and I hate having breakfast on my own. What do you say?" Nikki said, asking nicely and giving her best smile look.

"Well, I suppose no harm could come out of eating. Could use a hot meal for a change." Both woman laughed as they walked along the boardwalk.

"If she dies without talking, we'll never know the truth," DCI Helen Stewart remarked as they approached the intersection. "One of them is guilty. Which one, though? That's the thing. Which one?"

"I'll put my money on Jack Daniels, the ex-lover," DI Dominic McAllister replied. "Guilty as hell if you ask me, Helen. He's been in trouble before for domestic battery."

"Minor things though." Helen said feeling agitated. She had her own beliefs about domestic violence. She had gone through with it as a child with her own parents. Those were memories that she tried to suppress. "This is much more serious, Dominic. We're talking about murder. He might have been a right nuisance, a prick, but murder? No, I don't reckon that. He was too much of a coward. Of course, he's dead so we can't exactly ask him, can we?"

"There's a first for everything, Helen." Dominic replied wondering why she was being so adamant. He knew Helen was brilliant at what she did but he did think she could be too much of a stalwart. "He didn't deny stalking her in the past and he did have a run-in with her husband earlier, he admitted that much."

Helen shook her head. She rub her temple as if she was beginning to receive a headache. "I'm not denying that Jack was a mean bully. But I still don't think he's guilty of trying to murder her."

Dominic couldn't understand why Helen couldn't see the obvious. It was clear that Jack Daniels had to be guilty. There was no other explanation, but Helen always did the opposite. "Helen, why do you always have to be the martyr?"

"What about the husbands claim," Helen went on, "That he didn't know that his wife was having an affair."

"Are you saying you think her husband, Tim tried to kill her?" Dominic said, with a confused expression on his face.

"The sod probably didn't realise they were still alive when he ran for help. Who's to say he didn't shoot his wife Mary first and then shoot Jack afterwards?" Helen said, undeterred. "What if he caught them, and in a jealous rage waited for the right execution to murder them? And why are his fingerprints all over the gun?"

Dominic shook his head, a smug little smile on his face as he concluded. "Jack's prints were also on the gun. I'm sorry Helen but I think he's as guilty as they come."

"Bollocks, Dominic. That's a convenient explanation. Dead man can't talk" Helen spat. She knew something did not add up. Her gut feelings was telling her the case was not black and white. Yet she could not get anyone to agree with her opinion.

"Tim told us why he shot Jack. He said that when he entered the house, he heard a gunshot and he ran into the bedroom where he saw Jack on top of her and he went after him, and they struggled for the gun and he shot him in self-defence."

Helen laughed, it was, a harsh tone. Dominic could be so naïve she thought to herself. He was after all, still wet behind the ears. "And what makes you assume Tim had no motive for killing them both? What makes you think they weren't having an affair behind his back, just like he claimed?"

"Because Jack's a known liar, Helen, and you know his rap sheet is a mile long. I know which bloke I believe. I've dealt with his type before."

Helen looked at Dominic. Maybe he was right. Maybe she did have it all wrong, but the crime reeked of revenged of the heart. "There's something strange about this whole business. When Jack burst into the police station bleeding to death, he was still carrying the murder weapon. He made no attempt to hide it, which makes me believe his story, that he probably took it for his own protection. Just before he died, he said that it was Tim who shot them. I wish we could have gotten more information before he died." Helen frowned. "Like, why was Jack at their house at that hour? Why would Jack want to kill Mary when he was obviously still in love with her, even after she got married to Tim?" Helen said, as they approached the hospital's front doors. "What was his motive? I know Tim's motive: jealous rage. So if Jack Daniels tried to kill Mary, why seek the police and not call for an ambulance? He must've known he was dying. Guilty conscience, I think not. If you ask me, Tim is making right fools of us all."

"Helen we've been over this. Everyone said it was a cut and dry case." Dominic was a man who looked at the immediate facts, made a fast opinion, and clung to it. "Jack Daniels did it all right, but his dirty little plan backfired and now he's ten feet under where he belongs. I say justice is served."

"Dominic, you've got a lot to learn. Instincts, and it's telling me we got it all wrong." Helen said. When they finally arrived on the third floor they noticed a patrol officer in front on Mary's door. Helen had to pull teeth from Superintendent Simon Stubberfield to get someone to watch over Mary. Her gut instincts told her that Tim, her husband might want to off her for good, just in case she does wake up and tells them who really tried to kill her. Helen was sure that he would try something. She knew he was guilty. Something about him left a foul scent.

The two of them became fast friends. They made a comical sight as they walked the streets. When they made their way to a restaurant, it was apparent that people were obviously staring at Monica's lack of cleanliness. People had no business judging and Nikki hated that characteristic in people. She hated superficial people.

"Oh dear, I think they're all looking at me." Monica said, feeling a little self-conscience.

"Pay no heed to them. Boorish idiots. Who are they to make judgment?" Nikki said loudly as if she was trying to make sure that everyone heard her.

"It's quite alright dear. I'm used to this behaviour from others." Monica said, justifying their actions. "Be quiet and no one will be any the wiser."

"Well, it's not right. People ought to be kinder towards each other. What happened to being civil towards one another?" Nikki said, feeling her blood boil with anger. She needed to relax. She had a difficult week adjusting with a new patient, and when she went out for a jog this Saturday morning, she never imagined that she would meet someone out of the ordinary as Monica. It pleased Nikki. "What brought you here to London Monica," Nikki asked with curiosity. "I mean, judging by your accent, you're Irish."

Monica smiled. It was nice having a conversation with someone as young as Nikki. She reminded her of her younger years. "Well, having been on the road since first light, I had arrived in London. With no money but the holes in my shoes. I was hungry and cold, and, having consulted with wise old Miss Sadie, my cat, we decided that England was as good a place to start so here I am in London to stay awhile." Monica said with a wry little smile. Monica looked around at other tables and thought about warm eggs and bacon. She hadn't tasted a good meal in ages and her mouth watered at the prospect.

"Do you have any family back home in Ireland or here in England?" Nikki asked.

"I'm afraid, it's just Sadie and I." Monica said, moving her hand underneath the table to feed her cat some breadcrumbs.

"Look, I know a few women shelters that you can go to. Settle your bones, have a hot meal. It's not much in the way of comfort, but they treat you right. Would you consider going to a place like that?" Nikki asked, but sensing that Monica would probably say no. It would clash with her independence she thought.

"That's very kind of you, but I've done fine on my own." Monica protested. She could see the kindness in Nikki's eyes. She was young in her years but had a wise old heart she thought of Nikki. She wish more people were like her.

"It's okay to accept help from others. You don't have to guard your privacy so tightly." Nikki said, trying not to sound pushy. Monica smiled at Nikki. She knew that Nikki had a good heart. She also knew dark secrets that Nikki held and what her future foretold. Monica was clairvoyant. The minute she touched Nikki, she sensed their paths intertwined for a reason. It was her destiny to be at London, at the docks. She was to meet Nikki and change destiny.

"It's not like it used to be, is it?" Monica pondered softly. "There was a time when you could walk the streets and be safe, when you could pass the time of day and not be afraid somebody might snatch your bag or run you through when your back was turned." She chuckled. "It doesn't matter to people though. All they're concerned about is having a full belly and a warm place to stay, and nobody can blame them for that, can they."

"No, I suppose we can't." Nikki agreed. She felt a sense of remorse for Monica who didn't have family and probably would die alone, cold, like frozen meat on the unforgiving streets. The thought sickened her, but she knew that was reality. She couldn't save everyone from despair, but she would at least try to help Monica the best she could.

Monica's kind brown eyes misted over, her voice falling to a whisper. "As for me, what does it matter? Who is there left to care about a silly old bird like me?" Monica gave a sad little grunt. "Nobody, that's who, but never mind," she remarked wisely. She was not one to dwell on the downside of life. "When the time comes, we can say that we were here, and we made a difference. In the end, that's all that counts."

Nikki touched Monica's hand then squeezed it tightly. "Hey, I care what happens to you. And I won't forget you."

"Yes, I'm sure you do, Nikki. But once I walk out that door, you may very well never see me again. Will you still care for an old bird like me?" Monica said, holding on to Nikki's hand. She knew what her purpose was as sad as it might seem.

Nikki was silent. She really didn't know what to say. She really hadn't thought that far. She was only thinking about the moment. Even if she helped find a shelter for Monica, would she really take time from her busy schedule to see her? She didn't know the answer to that question. "I suppose you're right in a sense. Don't have a crystal ball and I can't foretell the future. I only wish to help you find a little peace in this mad world. Would that be so bad of me?"

Monica gently ran her fingers on Nikki's face. The smooth contours of her features were strong. Nikki's eyes were bright puddles of brown liquid, with soft lines that ceased on the sides of her eyes when she squinted. "Such a big heart for someone as young as you." Nikki enjoyed Monica's warmth. It reminded her of her late grandmother, when she would cradle Nikki in her arms and gently combed her hair with her fingers.

"Can I ask you a question?" Nikki smiled warmly, "I sense things that trouble you deep inside your soul. What is your profession?" Monica asked.

Nikki was taken back. How did Monica come to that conclusion? It felt eerie. Somehow Monica reminded Nikki of a guardian angel. It was a strange thought, yet comforting. "I'm a Clinical Psychologist. Actually, I've only been here several months. I transferred from Liverpool."

"I can see where the caring qualities come from. I mean wanting to help people. Do you like what you do?" Monica said looking deep into Nikki's eyes.

Nikki thought for a moment. "Yes, I always wanted to help people. In fact, I was going to be a Forensic Psychologist and work in the Criminal Investigation Department. But I decided against it. I was more interested in mental disorders like schizophrenia and depression. I'm really intrigued with the brain." Nikki said, her voice a little strained. She thought about Trisha and how unfair life was.

"Something happened to you to make you choose that career path." Monica said, looking at Nikki. "I sense you have far more knowledge that most common folk."

"What makes you say that?" Nikki said, a little defensive. She didn't want to feel like she was an open book.

Monica took a deep breath. "When I look into your soul, I can see someone in turmoil. A past that keeps haunting your inner soul and you carry a pain that's wearing you thin. You don't like to reveal how much you know as I sense you have earned many titles. You hide your intelligence."

Nikki was gob-smacked. Was she a book, so easily read? "You're making me feel uneasy," Said Nikki, a little shaken.

"You don't have to fear me, Nikki. You're going to meet someone very interesting who will bring forth your past and open all the doors you have closed, including your heart." Monica smiled, then whispered softly. "This person is a woman, and she will have a profound change in your life. Mark my words."

Nikki was stunned. She was lost for words. Her mouth was open, yet nothing came out. Monica kept smiling and holding Nikki's hands. "How, how are you so certain of this?"

"It's a gift I had since I was a young girl. I could foretell the future. Bit of a psychic I am. Drove me to madness of course and tragically had a nervous breakdown." Then Monica face turned into a serious tone. "Nikki, I must tell you that I see darkness in your life, a kind of darkness that troubles me. Something, or someone will bring evil. I'm not quite sure of it, but I get a terrible sense of tragedy."

"In all honesty, Monica, I'm not quite sure what to believe. It's all coming in too quickly." Nikki said, scratching her head.

"It's okay Nikki. Most people can't handle the revelation at first. What you do with this information is entirely up to you. But remember, death isn't always so final. Sometimes death brings life."

Nikki's heart pounded quickly. The words seared, in her heart. She wanted to scream but she couldn't. Then the past she had tried so hard to forget was coming in heavy as radio waves, overloading. And the image of Trisha haunted her. A tear strained her eye, and she wanted to submerge into Monica's arms, like she did with her late grandmother. Was Monica just an old fool, babbling on about nothing? Was Monica her saviour, sowing the seeds to her future? Who was this woman that Monica, spoke of? Nikki's head was spinning and she felt as if her body was floating on air.

"Nikki, Nikki, come back to me." Monica said, worried that what she said was too much for one person to bear. She knew the heaviness in Nikki's heart and it made her feel sad. The brief encounter with the young woman was inspiring. It gave her a little hope.

"Sorry, I'm sorry, I just drifted for a moment." Nikki said, breathing more calmly.

"I'm starving, I think we should order." Monica said trying to lighten the mood.

"Yeah, where's that damn waitress." Nikki looked around, trying to absorb everything she heard. What Monica meant by it all she didn't know? But it troubled her. No matter how fast or how hard she tried to forget, the memories always crept up and left her a mess.

(For those who don't know already, most of the characters in my story are based on 'Bad Girls', a television series from UK. When I first stumbled upon this series I was hooked on the Nikki and Helen storyline. Needless to say, this is my story based on different events, as I enjoy watching crime/drama shows.)