by Alan Parks
‘You sure she’s okay in there with him?’ asked Wattie.
‘Let’s just see what the doctor says, eh?’ said McCoy.
Murray nodded.
‘Phillips turned up pished one too many times so it’s some new guy.’ He began patting his jacket, looking for his pipe. ‘You remember much?’
McCoy shook his head. ‘I remember being hit by Connolly and waking up on that fucking table. Remember him cutting me, but after a bit I kept passing out. All gets a bit hazy.’
‘Not bloody surprised,’ said Murray.
‘I remember the smell of burning, Elaine on the table.’ Flashes of her fitting, the noise of the hammer coming down, the look on Abrahams’ face. ‘Think he must have done it to Connolly first.’
‘Christ.’ Murray winced, hit the bottom of his pipe on the heel of his brogue. ‘I think I’d rather be bloody dead.’
The door opened and Dr Purdie came into the kitchen. McCoy recognised him immediately; last time he’d seen him he was patching up Cooper in the bath. By the look of Purdie he recognised him too; both decided to pretend they didn’t.
Purdie sat down at the table.
‘Well?’ said Murray.
‘Well,’ said Purdie, ‘this is certainly one of the strangest cases I’ve ever seen. Mind you, once I was working in Edinburgh—’
Murray was holding his hand up.
‘Sorry,’ said Purdie. He settled himself. ‘Both of them appear to have been lobotomised.’ He coughed as Murray’s pipe smoke drifted towards him. ‘It seems to have been done correctly, undoubtedly by someone who has done it before.’
‘Abrahams did them at Ninewells,’ said McCoy.
Purdie nodded, continued.
‘The actual procedure itself is not that physically damaging. Couple of days until the swelling goes down and they’ll be right as rain. The problem is its inaccuracy.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Murray.
‘I was going to say lobotomy is kind of a blunt instrument but that seems a bit tactless. However, it’s true. The reason it’s fallen out of favour is twofold. Our pharmaceutical solutions to mental health have become hugely more advanced than they used to be and the problem with lobotomies was that you were never quite sure what you were going to get.’
Purdie took out his fags, lit up. ‘The original aim of the procedure was to ease the suffering of deeply distressed patients. Help with the horrors of severe depression, schizophrenia, mania and so on. However, its use began to become somewhat indiscriminate, began to be used as a matter of course on almost any patient who was exhibiting even the mildest mental problems.’ He took a draw, blew out. ‘And after the operation the effects were hugely variable. Some patients were calmer, albeit a bit absent, and some were practically destroyed, reduced to walking corpses, not much higher than a vegetative state. Memory non-existent, loss of bowel function, motor impairments and so on. They were calm all right, but largely because they were virtually destroyed as human beings, no real aspect of their personality left.’
‘What about those two?’ asked Murray.
Purdie frowned. ‘It’s probably too early to say, but I fear they’re on the more damaged end of the scale. Their motor function is okay, but even in a cursory examination you can see their memory and mental capacity is hugely diminished. Neither of them seem to have a clear idea of who they are or what they are doing here. Blessing is they don’t seem very upset about it, quite the opposite in fact. They also seem to have some sort of bond, constantly holding hands. Were they married?’
‘Not exactly,’ grumbled Murray. ‘Knew each other, though. So what happens now?’
‘Well, they could become more cognisant over time but I would think it unlikely. Far more likely prognosis is that they will deteriorate further.’
‘The man in there, Connolly, is a murderer. A very fucking nasty one at that,’ said Murray. ‘Almost did for McCoy here as well.’
McCoy held up his jumper.
‘Ah,’ said Purdie. ‘Nasty, very nasty indeed.’
‘And we’re not going to be able to try him, are we?’ asked McCoy.
Purdie shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t imagine so. Any lawyer would point out that in this state he would be unable to understand even the most basic tenets of a trial.’
‘Unfit to plead,’ said McCoy.
Murray smashed his fist down on the table. Purdie just about jumped out his skin. ‘He’s done it, hasn’t he! That fucker’s got away with it.’
Purdie stood up, looked a bit taken aback. ‘If that’s it, gents, you’ll get my written report in the morning.’ Made himself scarce.
Murray hit the table again. Swore again. ‘He’s got everything he wants. He’s got away with murder and that poor bloody girl is hanging on to him like a fucking long-lost lover.’
‘That’s one way of looking at it,’ said McCoy.
Murray looked at him. ‘Is there another bloody way?’
‘The two of them may as well be dead. Both of them got what was coming to them. Didn’t think their big plan would end up like this.’
Murray didn’t look convinced.
‘Come on, Murray. You think being like the two of them is a victory? That they’ve got away with something?’ said McCoy. ‘If you ask me, at least some sort of justice has been done. The most we’re going to get, anyway. We should take it.’
They heard the crunch of a van on the gravel drive.
‘Other ambulance must be here,’ said McCoy.
It was. They followed the two ambulance men into the front room. Connolly and Elaine were sitting on the couch smiling, hand in hand, rugs wrapped around them. The lady from the council who came with the ambulance stood up.
‘Okay, you two,’ she said. ‘Ready for a wee trip?’
Elaine nodded. Connolly didn’t seem to even understand that. They stood up, took the woman’s hand. Elaine looked at McCoy as she passed him. He caught her eye, felt he was looking into nothing. Couldn’t help but remember the last time she’d looked at him, from the back of the limousine at the entrance to the cemetery. The way she’d looked then: beautiful, smart, dangerous. Now she was just an absence, less than a person, less than alive. He wouldn’t be her for all the money in the world.
THIRTY-EIGHT
McCoy steeled himself, sat down at the interview-room table, flinching at the pain from his cuts. Looked across at Abrahams.
Abrahams smiled at him pleasantly, as if he’d just walked past him in the park. ‘How’s the chest?’
‘Fuck off,’ said McCoy.
The door opened behind him. Abrahams’ solicitor no doubt.
‘Afternoon, Mr McCoy,’ said Lomax, sitting down opposite him.
‘You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,’ said McCoy.
Lomax smiled. ‘Not at all. My client Mr Abrahams engaged me a few hours ago, as soon as he was brought into custody.’ He turned to Abrahams. ‘Isn’t that so?’
Abrahams was polishing his glasses on his jumper. He put them on, looked at McCoy. ‘Indeed it is. Nothing but the best for me. And, as we all know, Mr Lomax is the best.’
The door opened and Murray stepped in.
Looked at Lomax. Looked at McCoy.
‘What the fuck’s this?’ he said.
Lomax smiled again, was enjoying himself. ‘And good afternoon to you, Mr Murray. As I have just explained to Mr McCoy, I am Mr Abrahams’ legal representative.’
‘Isn’t that a conflict of interest or something?’ asked McCoy as Murray sat down beside him, pulled his chair up to the chipped laminate table.
Lomax was pleased to explain. ‘The short answer is no. Were my client pleading not guilty it would of course be so, but he is pleading guilty. Any momentary professional relationship I had with Miss Scobie is therefore not a problem.’ He sat back in his chair. ‘Now, can we get on with it? After all, my time is money.’
Murray took a bunch of files out of his bag, dumped them on the table. One of the bulbs in the cage above them fizzed, fla
shed. He looked at Lomax. ‘If I find out this is some kind of funny buggers to try and get a mistrial I’ll—’
Lomax held his hand up. ‘Be assured it isn’t. Now, please, can we proceed?’
Murray nodded reluctantly. Couldn’t have looked more suspicious if he tried.
‘Excellent,’ said Lomax, sitting forward. ‘Now, my client has a statement he wishes to make about what happened at Pinetrees.’
‘You mean in his own wee Dr Mengele garage?’ asked McCoy.
Lomax sighed. ‘In the garage at the property, yes. He is more than content for you to do what you wish with this statement. His only concern is that he gets to explain his side of what happened.’
‘That right?’ said McCoy. ‘Well, let’s be honest, it’s not like the other two can, is it? Not after what he did to them.’
‘Get on with it,’ grumbled Murray.
Lomax turned to Abrahams as if he was introducing the next turn at the Palladium. ‘Mr Abrahams, over to you.’
Abrahams coughed, arranged the bits of paper he had in front of him. McCoy was starting to get angry, wasn’t quite sure how Abrahams seemed to be running this interview.
He started. ‘I first met Kevin Connolly when he came to see me at Woodilee Hospital. I soon—’
‘You did what?’ said McCoy. ‘You lying little cunt, you said you’d never seen him until Barlinnie!’
‘Mr McCoy!’ said Lomax. ‘Please let my client finish his statement, that is all he asks.’
McCoy was furious with himself, should have made the connection quicker. Connolly wasn’t there visiting when he saw him, he was an outpatient. Should have fucking guessed.
‘McCoy, you all right?’ asked Murray. ‘You sure you want to be in here?’
McCoy nodded, face set.
Abrahams went on. ‘I quickly discovered he was in nature psychopathic. A continued danger to himself and others. It soon became apparent to me that he was never going to benefit from any sort of therapeutic cure. Consequently I decided to start him on a course of Seconal and Librium. The hope was to keep his most dangerous behaviour at bay. He attended the hospital intermittently but as far as I was aware was still picking up and taking his prescriptions.’
Another page turn. ‘I lost contact with him when I went to Dundee and only met him again after—’
‘You got struck off,’ said McCoy.
‘After the unfortunate incident at Dundee and my arrival at Barlinnie. There I found his state worsened; his mind seemed to have deteriorated quite considerably. Despite his aggressive demeanour, he was a very frightened individual, scared of what was happening to him. He was desperate for any kind of solution.’
‘And you were just the one to provide it,’ said McCoy.
Abrahams ignored him. ‘I helped him with new medication but it became apparent a couple of months ago he had stopped taking it. He believed it was poisoning him and making him store what he called “dead food and water” in his body – something, along with crippling headaches, he found incredibly difficult to deal with.’
New page, looked up at Murray and McCoy. ‘When the police failed to apprehend Mr Connolly after the three horrendous murders I saw it as my duty to put an end to his killing spree—’
‘You what?’ asked McCoy, amazed.
‘I was on my way to my father’s house to telephone the police and report what I had done when I was picked up by the uniformed officers—’
‘You let him fucking carve me up!’ said McCoy. ‘Two of you were in it together!’
‘—to inform them that Connolly’s reign of terror was over. That I had done what the police failed to do, stopped the killings.’
He sat back, smiled. ‘Thank you. I would like a copy of that statement to go to all the major newspapers along with a copy of my pamphlet.’
McCoy was holding onto his chair, knew if he let go he would punch the wee fucker. Murray was red-faced. Lomax had the good grace to look embarrassed.
‘That, gentlemen, concludes my statement. I did what any good citizen would do with the means I had. Ended the terror, did the job the police couldn’t.’
Murray lurched forward but McCoy got his hand out, managed to stop him. ‘Lomax,’ he hissed, ‘did you know about this?’
Lomax shook his head. ‘Mr Abrahams wanted to keep the exact wording of his statement a secret until he could address the police. Had I been—’
‘The girl,’ said McCoy, ignoring him. ‘Elaine Scobie. Where does she fit into all this? She hadn’t done anything but you were happy to butcher her too.’ McCoy turned to Lomax. ‘And this cunt watched as Connolly carved me up, even lent him his fucking scalpel to do it.’
‘Are you suggesting my client was present in the garage when Connolly attacked you?’ asked Lomax.
‘He was fucking there all right.’
Lomax looked puzzled, or pretended to look puzzled. ‘My client informed me that he arrived at the garage to find Mr Connolly in the process of wounding Mr McCoy. Thinking quickly, he injected Connolly with a tranquilliser to prevent him doing any further damage. In point of fact, Mr McCoy, my client saved your life.’
McCoy couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Realised what Abrahams was doing; it would come down to McCoy’s word against his. And Connolly’s medical report would no doubt show that he had been drugged.
Abrahams sat back in his chair, shook his head. ‘It’s quite remarkable how incompetent you people really are. You know nothing, do you? Elaine Scobie and Connolly boasted to me about how they had hatched the plan to kill three people, including her fiancé and her father. She was as guilty as he was. She needed to be helped.’
McCoy scrabbled about in the pile of files in front of him. Found it. Held it up. ‘This is Dr Purdie’s medical report on Elaine Scobie. Her blood tests show she was so full of Mandrax she could barely walk or talk. I saw her like that. She couldn’t even fucking sit up straight!’ He opened the file, pointed. ‘“Close to a fatal dose,” he said. And yet you’re telling me that even in this state she willingly came with Connolly, the man who had just kidnapped her, to your fucking house of horrors?’
‘I don’t—’
‘And she sat down and had a chat with you over a nice cup of tea about her motivations for helping to kill three people. I don’t fucking think so.’
He threw the file at Abrahams. It bounced off his chest and fell to the floor, papers spilling everywhere.
Lomax tried to take charge again. ‘Mr McCoy, that consists of an assault. My client is—’
‘A lying fuck. Elaine didn’t have a fucking clue where she was. Only reason she didn’t try and run, to get away from you and Connolly, was because she was so drugged up she couldn’t even move. You thought it was your lucky fucking day, didn’t you? A wee bonus. Another young girl you could butcher, just like you did in Dundee.’
Abrahams was unfazed. ‘She described to me in great detail the pleasure she took in Connolly’s actions. She found his descriptions of what he had done sexually arousing. As his lover she was complicit, egging him on to further obscene acts.’ Abrahams smiled. ‘Just like Myra Hindley and Ian Brady. Heard of them, have you?’
That was enough. McCoy did it before he could help himself. Punched Abrahams full in the face as hard as he could. He felt his nose break under his fist and Abrahams fell backwards off his chair.
McCoy was round the table and standing over him before he could get up. He could hear Lomax and Murray shouting at him and he didn’t care. He was shouting too, right into Abrahams’ terrified face.
‘Listen, you twisted cunt. When Cooper finds out what you’ve done you’re going to wish you’d killed yourself when you had the chance.’
He could feel Murray pulling at him, yelling at him to stop, heard Lomax ringing the emergency buzzer, shouting on the turnkey.
Abrahams tried to sit up, to put his smashed glasses on. ‘My actions were those of a concerned citizen, I did what—’
McCoy kicked him in the face.
THIRTY-NINE
Murray finally stopped shouting into his face and sat back down behind the desk. Looked like he’d worn himself out calling McCoy every name under the sun. Short version of the bollocking was simple. His fate as a polis depended on whether Lomax made a formal complaint. And why wouldn’t he? McCoy had just kicked fuck out of his client right in front of him. And if he did, McCoy was out.
‘Nothing to bloody say for yourself?’ asked Murray.
McCoy shook his head. Wasn’t much he could say.
‘Should fucking think not. I’ve a good mind to suspend you anyway. If half the shop wasn’t off with bloody flu I would. Hear me?’
McCoy nodded. Kept his eyes on Murray’s rugby pictures on the wall behind him, tried to stay calm.
‘You ever, ever do anything like that again you’re out, McCoy – Lomax complaint or no Lomax complaint. Straight out the fucking door.’ He looked vexed suddenly. ‘I know you’d been through hell, probably shouldn’t have let you in that interview room, but still . . . What bloody possessed you?’
‘He did. Sitting there lying through his fucking teeth.’
Murray snorted. ‘Ninety-nine per cent of people in that interview room lie through their bloody teeth! Why was he so different?’
‘Because he really thinks he’ll get away with it,’ said McCoy.
‘Aye well, I don’t, and I’ll make sure the wee cunt—’
A knock on the door.
It opened and Lomax was standing there. ‘Gents, mind if I come in?’
McCoy’s heart sank.
Murray waved him in and he sat down beside McCoy.
‘I suppose you can guess why I’m here?’ said Lomax.
Murray nodded. McCoy waited for the hammer to fall.
‘I’ve known Elaine Scobie since she was a baby,’ he said. ‘And I’ve just read the doctor’s report.’ He turned to McCoy. ‘I now have to continue as that piece of scum’s lawyer just so he can’t ask me to testify about what happened in there. If I could I would walk away right now, but I have no wish to see your career ended by someone like Abrahams. What you did was not advisable but it was understandable. I took him on to show what a big man I was and that’s my mistake, something I’ll have to live with.’
