How to Kill Men and Get Away With It(33)

I seethe all the way home, that old adage on repeat in my head. When something seems too good to be true, it’s because it is.

Fuck you, Charlie Chambers. Absolutely fuck you.





24


KITTY’S APARTMENT, CHELSEA

I nod to Hakim, who’s on the desk, before skulking up to my apartment like a wounded animal. Charlie tries to call me twice, but gives up when I cancel both. I pour myself a Grey Goose and gulp it down neat, following it with another.

I try to calm myself by imagining ways to kill Charlie. But even that doesn’t help. In fact, it just makes me more antsy and I eventually knock back two of my special elephant-dose Valiums and pass out on my bed.

I’m not feeling much better when I wake up some ten hours later, the sun aggressively edging its way into my room.

I’m hungover and agitated.

I look at my phone, which surprisingly still has some battery considering I forgot to charge it before succumbing to unconsciousness. There are voicemails and texts from Charlie but I ignore and delete them. In an attempt to soothe myself, I try the treadmill in the room I’ve made into a personal gym. It just makes my legs hurt. I attempt the Mindfulness programme I’ve paid a small fortune to have some guru from Thailand teach me. Nada. In the end I pour myself a giant glass of Chablis, collapse on my sofa and pick up my phone.

I scroll through the gossip apps, check out the weather for next week – fucking hot – before opening the news app. And that’s where I find exactly what pulls me out of this horrendous mood dip.

His name is Daniel Rose. He’s thirty and from Catford. Recently released after spending some time at Her Majesty’s pleasure and already familiarising himself with the world of online dating apps, according to MirrorOnline. Nothing wrong with that, apart from the fact he’s just been released after a five-year stretch for two rapes. According to the report, he is a signed-up and paid subscriber to Tinder. It’s almost too easy.

As is finding Daniel Rose’s Tinder profile. Daniel Rose. He sounds so innocent and pure. The rage is already building up inside me and I have to take a few deep breaths to steady myself as I glance through his vital statistics.

Daniel, 28, London

‘I’m just a normal bloke looking for someone similar. I like a laugh. I enjoy the simple things in life, good food, good wine and good company.’



And that’s it. Funnily he doesn’t mention forcing his cock into women who don’t want it in the list of simple things he enjoys.

I close the app and reopen the Mirror report. Daniel was arrested six years ago after raping a woman he met on a night out. He’d managed to talk his way into her home – on the pretence he was keeping her safe – and she’d tried to call her boyfriend several times but he didn’t pick up. According to the report, the woman had repeatedly spurned his advances, before asking him to leave. Daniel Rose had ignored her, telling her he knew she wanted it, before forcing himself on her. She had spent the entire seven-minute ordeal crying and begging him to stop.

He pled not guilty, forcing the victim to relive the entire thing in court. She refused to give evidence from behind a screen, wanting to look him in the eye as she told the jurors what he’d done to her. She wanted to see if he had any remorse.

He didn’t.

He even smirked at her from the dock as he was taken down.

He was released after three years and immediately broke his parole terms by sexually assaulting a female family friend. Apparently, he used the excuse that he hadn’t ‘seen tits in years’ and couldn’t help himself.

The judge sentencing him described him as ‘a master manipulator and a very dangerous man’.

Showtime.

I open Tinder and swipe right on his face. Predictably it’s a matter of minutes before a notification pings telling me I’ve got a match.

I’ve changed my name and photo now, obviously I’m too easy to detect if I’m myself. This time I’m a flirty student called Camilla looking for ‘fun, dates and a little-bit-more-than-mates’. Camilla clearly appeals to the sexual predator inside Daniel as a message pings in straight away.

‘Why hello there Miss Fun and Dates and Maybe More. How r u doing?’

His lack of proper grammar makes me seethe. I try to think of what ‘Camilla’ would reply. An innocent who doesn’t know this scumbag has raped and groped at least two women and is now trying to get back on the dating scene.

‘Hi Daniel! Nice to cyber meet you. How’s ur weekend going?’ I shudder at the ease in which I let my own grammar slip into text speak.

‘It’s good. I’ve been away for a while so I’m getting back into the swing of things lol’

‘Haha. Where have you been? Anywhere nice?’

‘Just staying with friends for a bit while I sorted some things in my life out. It’s good to be home though. So, do you want to move over to WhatsApp so we can ditch this shitty app?’

Urgh. I certainly do-fucking-not. Especially as my WhatsApp came complete with my real picture and a little bio about Kitty Collins.

‘My phone’s being repaired at the moment and I have this crappy old handset that it won’t download on. Sorry.’

‘Well how about we cut the crap and I take you out for a drink instead. I’m Catford. Are you local?’

‘I can be. Where shall we meet?’