Song Of The Psychopath

by Mark Tilbury

  Clancy stalled. Resumed his attack. ‘She was caught on CCTV entering the Wellbeing Clinic. Bloody good footage, too, by all accounts.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter if Corrine’s image was captured by the latest biometric equipment, Bernard. Corrine is no more. She’s vanished like steam in a desert.’

  ‘You might think this is unimportant enough to make crass analogies, but I can assure you the police aren’t as stupid as the masses assume. They have many strings to their bow these days, and you’d do well to remember that.’

  And you’d do well to remember I’m the one in charge here. ‘Look, Bernard, I’m not saying the points you raise aren’t concerning. Clearly they are. But the fact still remains Corrine is no longer with us.’

  Bernard didn’t seem convinced. He raised his white bushy eyebrows. ‘Please tell me she wore gloves.’

  ‘Of course she did.’

  ‘And you’ve burned all her clothes?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Where is she now?’

  ‘Resting.’

  ‘I want to see her.’

  Duggan’s heart jumped. ‘Why?’

  ‘To ask her some questions.’

  ‘You can’t.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because Corrine has been deprogrammed. She has absolutely no recollection of the mission or any of the events leading up to it.’

  ‘Can’t you reprogram her?’

  Duggan shook his head emphatically enough to activate a headache. ‘Absolutely not. I’m not prepared to traumatise Bella on the whims of a disgruntled customer.’

  Clancy puffed out his chest. ‘You’d do well to remember who I am, Karl.’

  ‘I’m fully aware of your status, Sir Bernard, but if you don’t allow me to handle this my way, we’ll all be spending next year at Her Majesty’s pleasure. And, as you well know, thugs and murderers frown upon activities such as ours.’

  ‘Correction, Karl. You’ll be enjoying life in a prison cell if this all goes tits up. I have a contingency plan, and I won’t hesitate to use it should the need arise.’

  Duggan forced a smile. ‘Then you’ve no need to worry, have you?’

  ‘Did you recover the bicycle?’

  ‘Yes. I picked it up the same night in the Land Rover.’

  ‘What if you were caught on camera?’

  Duggan sighed. ‘Driving into Feelham town centre? Is that a crime, now?’

  ‘No. But it is if you were seen picking up a bike connected to a murder.’

  ‘And who, exactly, is going to make that connection?’

  ‘The police if they saw Corrine leaving it at the church and going into the clinic.’

  Duggan’s confidence drained slightly. ‘I very much—’

  ‘All they need to do is identify your number plate, and you’re going to have a lot of explaining to do.’

  ‘Yes, well, that’s a pretty big stretch, Bernard. I—’

  ‘It’ll certainly be a big stretch if they lock you up.’

  ‘Won’t happen.’

  ‘I wish I shared your confidence. Anyway, I still want to see Bella.’

  ‘I’ve already told you, there’s absolutely no point.’

  ‘I’ll be the judge of that.’

  Duggan’s internal thermostat set itself to boil. Clancy was an oversized spoiled brat who was used to getting his own way and, as much as it pained Duggan to admit it, he was also an extremely wealthy and influential man. You didn’t get to be either by having a kind heart.

  ‘I completely understand your… concern. But seeing Bella simply isn’t possible at the moment.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘She’s in limbo.’

  ‘What the bloody hell does that mean?’

  ‘I can’t disclose that.’

  Clancy snorted and dabbed at his nose with an embroidered handkerchief. ‘For God’s sake, it’s as if I’m sitting in parliament.’

  You won’t be sitting anywhere for much longer if you don’t stop your whinging. ‘We’ve known each other a long time, Bernard. Have I ever let you down?’

  ‘That’s not the point. I—’

  ‘Did I make a song and dance when you returned the original Number Four to me in such a sorry state I was forced to put him out of his misery?’

  ‘If memory serves me correctly, that little runt was in a sorry state when he arrived at my door.’

  ‘Look, we’re going to get nowhere arguing back and forth. We’re both intelligent people. Let’s just play to our strengths and dispense with all this unnecessary conflict. At the end of the day, I want a positive outcome every bit as much as you do.’

  ‘So, why do I feel as if I’m being palmed off with half-baked truths?’

  Duggan took a deep breath. Sighed. ‘Because you’re like a nervous passenger in a car. Understandably, you want control of the vehicle. Be in charge of the brake pedal and the accelerator. React to every possible situation that may arise. I’d feel the same way, Bernard.’

  Clancy appeared confused by the analogy. ‘I wish I was embarking on a journey somewhere thousands of miles away from here.’

  ‘Me, too. But, unfortunately, there’s much work to be done first. I’m considering taking a fortnight’s holiday in the Bahamas next year. A couple of weeks of sun, sea, and sodomy.’

  Clancy stood. ‘Okay, Karl. I’m going to trust you for the time being. But I’m rapidly running out of patience. I want results, not pointless promises.’

  ‘I hear you.’

  ‘Any news on the boy? I hear he threw a bit of a wobbly at the mental health facility in Oxford.’

  ‘It’s all in hand, Bernard. I expect some sort of resolution in the next few days.’

  ‘Would you care to elaborate?’

  ‘I’m extremely optimistic he’ll be back at Thorndike House soon.’

  ‘Glad to hear it. Inform me the moment he returns. I’d like to have a few minutes with him alone.’

  You’ve got more chance of becoming Prime Minister. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

  Duggan escorted the politician to the front door and showed him out. ‘I’ll keep you posted.’

  Clancy waddled to his car in a downpour that threatened to submerge Oxfordshire.

  Duggan closed the door and shuddered. With a bit of luck, the filthy rat would drown.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  After spending two days in hospital undergoing a brain scan and several physical tests, Tommy was once again self-isolating in his room. As far as the doctors were concerned, Tommy was in reasonably good health for someone at his stage of recovery. His wrist was healing well, and the scan had returned a normal verdict.

  But Tommy no longer cared what the medical profession said about him; even with all their modern technology, they didn’t have a single machine that could read his thoughts.

  The episode at the clinic was still vivid in his memory. Dave Hemmings driving him to Clancy’s house. Throwing himself out of the car and tumbling down a steep embankment. Smashing into a rock. Losing consciousness.

  But he also remembered regaining consciousness. Head thumping. Jeans soaked. Teeth rattling so hard the pain vibrated right to the core of his brain. Certain he’d die if he didn’t move, but his body too weak to respond.

  A blank space. A minute? Perhaps an hour? Time was as dark and mysterious as his alien surroundings. But this time his motivation to crawl to the top of the incline was greater than his body’s resistance.

  Inch by painful inch, the pulsating pain in his ribs and wrist trumping any hand the cold could play. Memories of his dear parents, Charlie and Rachel. So supportive. So loving. And his sister, Danielle. The bitter row that had prompted his childish outburst and landed him in the hands of Bella and The Master.

  At the top now. As triumphant as a mountain climber planting a flag at the summit. But Tommy had no flag to display. No fluttering badge of honour to mark his incredible achievement. Only a thumping heart, a thumping head, and a broken body.

  Knowing he
had to make it to the road. Begging God to let someone find him and take him to hospital. The chances were slim, but it was all he had. On and on, jeans tattered, hands and knees bleeding, lungs burning.

  And then darkness; that barren land where the Devil waits patiently to take the souls of the departed.

  A knock on the door. Tommy was jolted back to the present. ‘Who is it?’

  ‘Danielle.’

  ‘Come in.’ No reticence. For the first time since he’d woken up in the hospital, he experienced love for his family. They were good people and didn’t deserve any of this shit. Although many pieces of the jigsaw remained missing, it was a joy to have a memory of something for once. And with it, a fresh determination to keep fighting and bring those responsible to justice.

  Danielle entered the room. Smiled. ‘How you doing?’

  Tommy invited her to sit on the bed. ‘I’m beginning to remember stuff.’

  ‘Really? That’s great news.’

  He told her about being driven to Clancy’s house and throwing himself out of the car. Crawling back up the bank and making it to the road.

  ‘Jesus! I can’t believe you did that.’

  ‘Me neither,’ Tommy said.

  ‘So, this Clancy? Do you know where he lives?’

  Tommy shook his head. ‘Not exactly, but it’s pretty close to where I chucked myself outta the car.’

  Danielle clapped. ‘Oh, Tommy, that’s brilliant. We need to call the police.’

  ‘But it still doesn’t prove anything. It’s not as if I ever arrived at his house, is it?’

  Danielle stalled. Chewed a nail. ‘But if Clancy’s house is along the same road where you were found, what are the chances of it being a false memory? The least the police could do is pay the bastard a visit.’

  Tommy shrugged. ‘And say what? Hey, remember that kid who was found near your house? We reckon he was on his way to see you. It’s not enough, sis. It’s really not enough. What we need to do is find The Master. Match up my bite marks with his teeth or something.’

  Danielle smiled. Her eyes, for the first time since he’d returned home, smiled, too. ‘We should get some advice from someone who understands the law and stuff.’

  ‘Yeah. I don’t wanna go to the police before I know where I stand.’

  Danielle stroked his arm. ‘By the way, Dean’s downstairs. He wants to see you.’

  ‘I’m surprised he wants to come anywhere near me.’

  ‘He’s cool. He understands it wasn’t the real you who attacked him. He’s been worried about you.’

  ‘I’ll be down in a minute. But please don’t tell anyone anything yet. I need it all to make sense in my head first.’

  Danielle hurried out of the bedroom. ‘I won’t say a word. I promise.’

  Tommy dressed, brushed his tangled hair, and walked downstairs. He joined Danielle and Dean in the conservatory.

  Dean grinned as if greeting an old and trusted friend. ‘Hey, Tommy, how’s it going?’

  Tommy could barely bring himself to look him in the eye. ‘Not too bad, thanks.’

  Danielle took a drag of her cigarette and blew a stream of smoke out the door. The wind threw it right back at her. She tossed the butt into the garden. ‘I’m gonna go and put my face on. I’ll leave you two to have a catch up.’

  She walked from the room, seemingly buoyed by Tommy’s partially returning memory.

  Tommy sat on a wicker chair. ‘I’m sorry about what happened, mate. I ain’t got a clue why I did that. It’s as if—’

  ‘Forget it, Tommy. It’s not important. No harm done.’

  ‘I keep having these flashbacks and confusing real people with the ones in my head.’

  Dean nodded. ‘I can’t begin to imagine what it’s been like for you. But I’ll tell you something. You’re a lot braver than me. I’d end up locking myself in the toilet and never getting off the crapper.’

  ‘Did I actually cut your neck?’

  ‘Yeah, but I’ll live. So, what’s the plan, Stan?’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Any ideas how to take this thing forward and catch the bastards who did this to you?’

  Tommy was tempted to tell him about throwing himself out of the car on the way to Clancy’s house, and about the driver, Dave Hemmings, but it was probably best to keep quiet for now. Although he was less antagonist towards Dean, Danielle was the only person he half-trusted. ‘Not really. I suppose I’ll just have to pray my memory comes back.’

  ‘I’m sure it will. People get amnesia all the time, but it’s usually only temporary. I looked it up on the internet.’

  ‘Did it say how long it usually takes?’

  ‘It varies from person to person. Sometimes a few days, sometimes a few weeks or months. I read a case of a guy who passed out at a party playing some stupid game with nitrous oxide, and he never got his memory back. And another who fell a hundred feet from a cliff, and he never remembered everything.’

  Tommy didn’t know whether to be inspired or deflated. ‘Bloody hell.’

  ‘It’s the same with everything. You can eat crap, smoke, drink, and live ’til ninety. But someone else can go to the gym, watch every calorie, and croak it in their twenties. Anyway, now you’re a bit better, I was wondering if you’d like to come back to my place on Saturday? We could watch a movie. Chill out. Even have a beer if you want.’

  ‘Don’t think that’s a good idea with all the medication I’m on.’

  Dean thumped the side of his head. ‘Duh. I’ll engage my brain before I speak one of these days. Okay, just the movie and chill out.’

  ‘Maybe. I’m still feeling pretty fucked.’

  ‘It’ll do you good to get out of the house for a day.’

  ‘Can I think about it? I’ve still got a lot of shit going on.’

  Dean nodded. ‘Fair enough. I’ll send you a text later in the week to see how you’re doing.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  After a short silence, Dean said, ‘What are you gonna do today?’

  ‘Not sure. There’s a few things I wanna look at.’

  ‘Anything interesting?’

  ‘Just something that came up during my visit to the clinic.’

  Dean grinned. ‘D’you wanna share?’

  Tommy considered it for a moment. ‘If I tell you, you’ve got to promise not to tell anyone.’

  ‘Goes without saying.’

  ‘I remembered how I ended up in the road the night I was found.’

  ‘Wow! That’s a massive step forward.’

  Tommy nodded. ‘I was being driven to a house and I threw myself out of the car.’

  ‘Bloody hell! No wonder you were in such a state.’

  ‘It was either that or spend the night with a sick and twisted pervert.’

  ‘Do you remember who?’

  ‘No,’ Tommy lied. ‘But things are starting to come back to me in dribs and drabs.’

  ‘You should tell the police.’

  ‘Not yet. It’s still too vague. But at least I’m a bit more hopeful now.’

  Danielle breezed into the conservatory, features enhanced by pink lipstick and black eyeliner, hair tied back with a red ribbon. She smiled at Dean. ‘You ready?’

  ‘Yeah.’ He turned to Tommy. ‘I’ll text you later.’

  ‘Okay.’

  They walked out of the conservatory hand in hand.

  Tommy thought they made a nice couple. Perhaps he’d even get to be best man at Danielle’s wedding one day. He’d changed his mind about Dean. He was a decent enough guy. One whose heart seemed to be in the right place. And Danielle liked him, so that was good enough for Tommy.

  He stepped into the garden and sat on a wooden bench. Breathed deeply. The cold air invigorated him.

  Charlie appeared from the shed, wiping his hands on a rag. He approached Tommy and grinned. ‘Nice to see you sitting outside for a change.’

  Tommy returned the smile. ‘It’s good to be outside.’

  Charlie sat next to him
on the bench. ‘Did you manage to clear the air with Dean?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I think he’s been really good about it. He could’ve pressed charges.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘So, what are you up to today?’

  ‘Not much. Dean’s invited me to his flat tomorrow.’

  ‘Are you going to take him up on the offer?’

  ‘Probably.’ Tommy studied his trainers. ‘Look, Dad, I’m really sorry for the way I’ve been with you and Mum. I can’t take it back, but I want you know I didn’t mean any of it.’

  Charlie wrapped an arm around his son’s shoulder. ‘You’ve got nothing to apologise for, lad. You’ve been through hell.’

  Tears stung the backs of Tommy’s eyes. ‘I love you, Dad.’

  Charlie pulled him close. ‘Love you, too, son. Love you, too.’

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Duggan, never far from a nervous breakdown, sat beside his indoor pool wrapped in a thick towelling robe. The stress and strain of driving the boys to clients’ houses because Hemmings had betrayed him, along with the mental turmoil of trying to deal with Sir Bernard Clancy, had taken its toll.

  It was a sad fact of life the more you did for folks, the less they appreciated you. He’d bent over backwards through the years trying to satisfy the insatiable needs of his clients. Bore the dreadful burden of caring for the boys, grooming them, and trying to do what was best for all concerned.

  He lost four boys along the way. Two had become too ill to work, and the others had simply gone past their sell-by date. In the murky world of Duggan’s business, sixteen years of age was considered old enough for retirement. Not that he could afford to put any of his workers out to pasture; they were purely an unviable commodity once they could no longer work.

  Apart from the original Number Two, with whom he’d had a brief relationship, none of the others had caused him to miss a minute’s sleep after killing them. Number Four was a runt. And little wonder being born from a drug-addicted mother who’d chosen the needle over nurture. The original Number Seven had also proved worthless, and he’d had to deal with too many complaints from clients to ever bother trying to educate the fool. And the first Number Eight had been sent to an early grave due to severe epilepsy brought on by being thrown down a flight of stairs by that useless ape, Hemmings.