by John Nicholl
‘Are you all right, Alice? The colour’s drained from your face. I’m sorry if I’ve said too much. I didn’t mean to upset you.’
I refocused on our conversation, pushing my reminiscences from my mind. ‘It’s just so awful. A murder in a quiet area like ours. Do the police have any idea who the killer is? Will they be arresting someone anytime soon?’
She shook her head forlornly, her voice unchanging in pitch or tone. ‘Not as yet, it’s early days; they haven’t got a clue. There’s going to be a press conference; hopefully, that’ll change things.’
I felt my entire body stiffen as I weighed up the possible significance of her statement. ‘What’s the point of a conference? I don’t get it. What are the police trying to achieve?’
Maisie glanced around her before refocusing on me. As if she was revealing the world’s greatest secret. ‘I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, and please keep it to yourself for now. But I guess it will soon be public knowledge anyway. So what possible harm could it do? The head was found on a riverbank, far from any residential dwellings. It had to get there somehow. The police plan to ask the public for help. Someone may have seen something, a person, or a car maybe. They’ve got nothing else to go on. The press conference is a fishing exercise more than anything else. It’s a tactic the police use sometimes, one of many. You never know, they may get lucky.’
I swallowed hard, slowing my breathing as damp patches formed under both my arms. I wanted to stamp and shout and holler. But I stayed in my seat, calming my mood, sipping my hot coffee before speaking again. I’d been surprised by her candour. I’d heard rumours she was a gossip. I’d discounted them at the time. But now I knew it to be true. The woman liked to be liked. Being a new boss didn’t suit her at all. I plan to take full advantage of those facts. She gives me a direct link to the investigative team. It seems the universe is on my side after all.
‘I really appreciate you sharing, Maisie. Is there anything else you can tell me? It would make me feel so much better if I thought the police are close to catching the killer. Maybe then I could sleep nights.’
She lowered her voice almost to a whisper. ‘They found the victim’s car on a beach. It was half-submerged in the sea. They’ve got no idea who drove it there. They’ll be appealing for information about that too.’
‘Strange!’ That’s all I could think to say, one single word, how pathetic is that. But it was enough to trigger her continued sharing. I’ve realised it doesn’t take much to get her talking.
‘The police are hoping someone saw the car being driven to where it was left. They think it may have something to do with the murder. Rob says it’s a hunch more than anything else. A Detective Inspector Kesey is heading up the case, Laura Kesey, she’s originally from Birmingham. She’s a competent officer. If anyone can catch the killer, she can. She’s investigated several previous murders. She’s well respected in the force.’
I manufactured an unlikely smile. ‘Would you like a biscuit, Maisie? There’s some chocolate digestives in the kitchen if you fancy one. I bought them this morning on my way in.’
She checked her office clock, brushing non-existent fluff from her navy skirt as she rose to her feet. ‘No, not for me, thanks, I’ve got a meeting to get to. It’s at the police station, as it happens, the Area Child Protection Committee. It’s my first one.’
‘Best of luck with it.’
She shrugged. ‘Oh, I’ll be fine. If I hear anything significant, I’ll let you know. I like to keep my staff fully informed. We girls have got to stick together.’
I really couldn’t believe my luck. I’d hit the information jackpot. Her mouth runs away with her, how fortunate is that! ‘Quite right too. Do you happen to know when the press conference is happening? I’d really like to watch it if I can.’
She picked up a black leather briefcase, preparing to leave. ‘It’s tomorrow afternoon. They’ll be talking about it on the Welsh evening news, BBC Wales Today. I think it starts at half past six.’
I nodded once. ‘Thanks, Maisie, I’ll have to check it out.’
She looked back on approaching the exit. ‘I’ll see you in the morning. I won’t be back today. There are things I need to do. You’ve got my mobile number if there’s anything urgent.’
I waved with feigned enthusiasm as my new boss placed her hand on the door handle. A black cloud had descended. It suddenly felt as if events were spiralling out of my control as I sat there alone in that room. I heard my father’s mocking voice as clear as day. As if he was there with me.
Did you hear that, Alice? Did you hear what your new friend said? There’s going to be a press conference. Oh, dear, how very unfortunate! What if someone saw you? What if that someone rings the police? Your world would come crashing down. One stupid mistake and it could all be over. That’s all down to you, my girl. Consider your failings and weep.
I covered my ears as a world of pain exploded in my head. ‘Shut up, you vile creature. Shut the fuck up!’
But he didn’t go away. You won’t silence me, however hard you try. I’ll haunt you forever.
I closed my eyes tight shut and started humming. ‘You’re dead; you can’t hurt me anymore.’
You’re such a mess, Alice, such a screw-up. Do you really think you can escape me?
‘Get out of my life! I don’t care what you say. All I can do is wait. Maybe it’s over, and maybe it’s not. That’s not for you to decide.’
17
I replaced my television set at a reasonable cost after taking the old one to the local tip for recycling. I’m trying to stay busy. It helps stop me overthinking. And looking after the ecology of the planet should be a priority. The more flowers I’m able to plant, the better for everyone. And so my rose garden serves two useful purposes, it’s a win-win. Once again I’m trying to stay positive as I make my contributions to humanity.
The Welsh news report was now only half an hour away. I could ignore it. I could trust in random fate. But I’ve always been at the centre of events. That’s what I told myself. I’m an activist, not a follower, pulling strings as I did on that clifftop, sending the monster man crashing to the rocks in the cold sea below. If I’m going to go down, I’ll go down fighting. I’ll watch that report, and I’ll assess the likely consequences. I’ll do everything I can to alleviate any risks I face to the very best of my ability. Not for my sake, but for the sake of the children; if my vocational activities come crashing down as my father so vehemently predicted, it won’t be for the lack of trying on my part. A quick drink and I’ll be ready for the watching, seated and waiting, staring at the screen with the volume turned up. I’ve decided there’s no room for denial. I’ll deal with whatever comes full on, no hiding behind the sofa or covering my eyes. I’ll take whatever comes and prepare for the fight.
Big Boy’s story formed the majority of the programme. That didn’t surprise me at all. It’s not every day a monster’s head is discovered in the Welsh countryside. It was always going to get some attention once it was found. And that’s down to me. If I’d done my job right, it wouldn’t have been found at all. It’s not all about the killing. Disposal is almost as important. I got careless, lazy. I won’t make that mistake again if given a chance.
The conference started with DI Laura Kesey seated facing a room full of journalists, some with notepads and others with cameras. She was wearing a smart charcoal-grey trouser suit with a crisp white blouse that complemented it perfectly. An outfit that I strongly suspect was intended to convey both authority and efficiency. Her dyed black hair was short and neat, not unlike mine, although, of course, mine is a rather nice shade of brown. She wasn’t wearing much make-up, just the basics. I don’t think she’s vain by nature. She looked slightly on edge as if the prospect of addressing the public caused her some anxiety. I liked that about her. It was something I could relate to. She’s a woman like me – a female in a male-dominated world. And we’re both on the side of the innocent. It seems we’re not so very different a
fter all.
Kesey introduced a Detective Sergeant Raymond Lewis who was seated next to her. He’s an older, heavier individual, a little out of shape with a salt and pepper beard that’s much in need of trimming. He looked world-worn but relaxed, a follower, not a leader, a career sergeant comfortable in his own skin. There was a large force logo on the white painted wall behind the two officers. I won’t name the force for obvious reasons. Some things are best kept secret in the interests of my freedom.
Kesey talked of Big Boy’s car first, saying where it was found and when, and then moving on to ask for the public’s help. You know the sort of thing. If anyone saw the car at the relevant time or had any other information pertinent to the case, they should contact the police, who’d be ready and waiting. Those weren’t her exact words, but they’re pretty damned close.
DS Lewis flicked a switch, presenting a large colour photo of the car in question on the white painted wall to the right side of the logo. I took a deep breath, sucking in the fetid air, fearing my father may make an unwelcome appearance at any second with one negative comment or another. But for once the bastard didn’t materialise either inside or outside my head. Please don’t ask me why. I have no way of knowing. Sometimes he does, and other times he doesn’t. It’s another of life’s mysteries.
DI Kesey moved to the front of a table topped with a white cloth, walking towards the TV camera and looking directly into the lens. Now it was time to talk of murder, as her sergeant flicked that same switch for a second time. The wall now displayed a large mugshot of Big Boy taken when in the land of the living. The very sight of the monster man made me want to puke up my dinner. He was evil personified, the devil up there on the police headquarters wall. And yet there was no talk of his crimes, just the fact of his marriage and fatherhood.
That angered me to the point of exasperation. And why call it murder? Execution would have been a far more suitable term. I rose to my feet and battered the wall with the sides of both fists until I reached exhaustion. Is it only me that cares about children? Ahhh! What the fuck is wrong with humanity? It was as if Big Boy’s many victims didn’t matter at all.
Another appeal for information followed as I sunk to the floor like a punch-drunk fighter hitting the canvas. I lay there clutching my vodka bottle for another half hour or so, intermittently gulping the contents until the bottle was empty. I slept in my slaughterhouse again that night for the consolation it offered in a time of distress – this time in a sleeping bag to keep out the cold.
As I drove to work the next morning, my head was thumping, as much from the fear of potential discovery as from alcoholic excess. If the police have a witness, I’ll soon know about it. And if not, I’ve been lucky. I’ve no way of knowing which direction my life will now take. I have no option but to wait to find out if it’s freedom or prison that awaits me. I can only recount something I once said to my father. Only time will tell.
18
I think they call it introspection, the examination and observation of one’s life. I’ve been pondering my actions, assessing my behaviour while I have the time to think. Recent months have been taken up with planning and targeting; with the destruction and disposal of vermin. Activities I’ve had to put on reluctant hold until the sudden interest in my deeds abates.
And so I’ve looked back on each of my executions. I won’t call them murders, because each killing was justified. Each man was a predator, an abuser of children. Someone had to stop them, and that someone was me. I take pride in that achievement and feel no regret or guilt. Some suffered horribly, and others died quickly. I still don’t think that’s unreasonable given the facts of each case. Every punishment was proportionate and done for good reason. No more or less than each criminal deserved.
I don’t think of myself as a psychopath, or in any way, evil. I want to make that crystal clear and I hope you agree. I feel empathy for others, just not for the world’s predators. It’s not my needs that matter but those of the children. And so, in conclusion, I’m committed to continuing my clandestine activities. I’ll just put off the next execution until the time feels right. In the meantime, it’s all about retaining my freedom. I’ll duck, and I’ll dive and see where I get to. And with that said I’ll get on with my tale.
Today was Maisie’s birthday, her thirty-fifth, a cause for celebration. I think she looks a little older, but I won’t burst her bubble. There’s nothing to be gained by a lack of sensitivity. If I can’t say something nice, I’ll say nothing at all.
I called at a petrol station on my way into work this morning, dodging the raindrops as I ran from the car. I bought the birthday girl a card and a small box of milk chocolates. A worthwhile investment intended to solidify our friendship. She’ll have more to tell me as a result of her pillow talk. Information I can use. Given my circumstances, I need all the help I can get.
I parked my car at the probation office and entered the building as the rain got heavier, large droplets of water bouncing off the ground around my feet. I took my wet coat off before entering the kitchen, where I made Maisie a coffee, adding powdered milk to her taste. For some reason, she likes it that way, and it suits me to please her. I’ll repeat the process willingly and often if it helps me to win.
I knocked on Maisie’s office door with her favourite blue mug in one hand and her gifts in the other, pushing the door open with the point of my shoe. She smiled warmly as soon as she saw me, putting down her office phone, ending her call. I placed each item on her teak-veneered desk and said happy birthday. She smiled again without parting her lips this time, waved a hand in a welcoming gesture, and said to pull up a chair.
Maisie opened her card, sipped her hot drink after blowing it, and then offered me a chocolate, which I politely declined due to a lactose intolerance. Milk and anything containing it, even in the smallest of quantities, causes havoc with my digestive system and is best avoided. Something else I shared with her to encourage her to talk.
After about five minutes of pointless chit-chat, she asked the question I was waiting for. Waiting in trepidation as we continued to talk.
‘Did you see the highlights of the press conference?’
I nodded, asking myself which direction the conversation was about to take. Would it be good or bad news or no news at all? Whichever it was, I knew I had to hear the truth. ‘Yeah, I did, I watched all of it. You were right; I thought DI Kesey was really impressive. I didn’t think that much of her sergeant though. Now, there’s a man who needs a good makeover. Did the police gain any relevant information as a result of the appeal?’
I could see from her face that she couldn’t wait to tell me the answer. But she delayed her response, upping my anticipation. Like on one of those ridiculous talent shows I choose not to watch. You know the ones I’m talking about.
‘Yes, they did, as it happens. A witness phoned in shortly after the programme ended. A man in his early eighties who claimed to have seen the dead man’s car being driven close to the beach where it was found at the relevant time. My Rob interviewed him and took a statement late last night. The witness described a woman driving the car, a woman wearing a hat and glasses. He wasn’t sure of her age. Can you believe that? Everyone was expecting it to be a man.’
My eyes bounced from one part of the room to another. I could feel the sweat forming on my brow. I could sense my face reddening as my temperature rose. A witness, a fucking witness!
‘Are you okay, Alice? You don’t look very well all of a sudden. Can I get you a glass of water?’
What to say? What the hell to say? I felt as if I was caught in a waking nightmare. A whirlpool of despair threatened to drag me down. I sat there as if under a spotlight, all the attention on me. Perhaps driving the car to the sea had been stupid. Maybe I’d blown it. I resisted the temptation to bolt for the door. I had to say something. Sitting there in silence wasn’t an option at all. ‘This, um, this is probably going to sound ridiculous. But I couldn’t sleep that night. I was worried about my sis
ter. She, er, she hasn’t been well. I went out for a long drive ending up at the coast. I’m certain I saw that car too, the one featured in the press conference, but driven by a man, definitely not a woman.’
Maisie pulled her head back, eyes wide, the whites flashing. ‘Are you sure?’
I nodded frantically, moving to the very edge of my chair with my hands resting on my knees for effect. ‘Yes, I’m absolutely certain of it, I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.’
‘Have you contacted the police?’
How could I answer that? ‘No, I wanted to talk to you first.’
That was the best I could offer. I know it didn’t make a great deal of sense, but for some reason she failed to challenge me. I was pleased with my quick thinking. Maybe Maisie took my explanation as a compliment, her ego boosted. I think that was probably it. I’ve come to learn that it doesn’t take much to flatter her. She is so in need of validation. She laps it up every chance she gets.
‘Right, I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to telephone my Rob, and I’m going to tell him exactly what you’ve told me. It’s crucial information. The police need to know.’
‘Okay, if you think that’s for the best.’
She looked back at me a little sheepishly, peeping over the top of her reading glasses. ‘I do, Alice, I do. But please don’t share how much I’ve told you. Don’t mention you know of another witness. I probably shouldn’t have said anything. Keep that to yourself.’
I smiled warmly as she began dialling. ‘I won’t say a thing; mum’s the word.’
