An Eye for an Eye (Detective Kate Young)

by Carol Wyer

  ‘Daniel says they paid somebody to take them abroad, to the UK.’

  Daniel is another of Joseph and Abel’s friends, but Faith finds the story incredible. ‘Where would they find money to pay for anyone to transport them?’

  ‘Abel . . . he’s been involved again in drug-dealing. There were men in the town. I heard they were letting it be known they could get people out, away to Europe. I never thought for one minute—’ Sobs render her speechless.

  Faith freezes to the spot. She has heard of citizens attempting to make the ridiculously long journey to escape poverty, and even the political situation in their own country, but Joseph? ‘Why would he do such a thing?’

  ‘Elijah Falade.’

  Elijah was held in esteem in Juliasdale. According to local myth, in 2000, at the age of seventeen, he made his way to the UK and started work in a restaurant, rising to manager within a few years, and moved to the USA, where he opened his own restaurant. His mother and cousin had disappeared one night and everyone believed they had gone to join Elijah. Faith had her own suspicions as to the truth of the story, but the youngsters in the town had believed it and Abel, for one, had often talked about becoming as successful as Elijah.

  ‘What are we going to do?’ asks Hope.

  ‘Have you reported him missing?’

  ‘Don’t be stupid! Nobody is going to help me or my boy. They don’t care. The police aren’t going to waste time hunting for a potential refugee.’

  It was true. Faith knew they would never trace him, and if the boys had reached the UK alive, the authorities there wouldn’t hunt for them. ‘What do Abel’s parents think?’

  ‘It’s a good thing he’s gone. They’ve five other mouths to feed and Abel was always getting into trouble – trouble they could do without. But you know that Joseph is everything to me,’ says Hope. ‘He’s the only good thing in my life . . . so like his father. When I look into his eyes, I see Timothy.’ The groan she emits lasts for an eternity. ‘It’s like losing my man all over again. I can’t experience such pain a second time.’

  Faith is heartbroken. Hope and Joseph are her flesh and blood. She loves them both with all her heart. ‘What can I do, Hope?’

  ‘You’re in the UK. Find him, please. Please find my boy.’

  Faith spoke in a monotonous tone, as if each word were being plucked reluctantly from her lips. ‘We had no option but to find him ourselves. We spoke to all their friends and eventually found out the boys were headed to Stoke-on-Trent to meet a man called Farai, who Abel knew via his drug-dealing contacts. Although I had the job in Coventry, I needed to be in Stoke to search for them, so I emailed Ervin. He said there were no positions available but he’d bear me in mind when he was looking for somebody to join the team. I was stuck in Coventry and travelled back and forth to Stoke in my free time. Several months passed, during which time we had no news of either boy. But finally, I got a lead.’

  Faith has travelled up and down to Stoke every weekend since the phone call from Hope, and tried every refugee centre, hostel, church, library and homeless charity she can locate. She’s had little luck, other than a lead from a Reverend Father, but today she has heard where she might find Farai, the man the boys came in search of. It’s cost her a hundred pounds of her salary and she now finds herself under a bridge on a dark January morning. It smells of urine and something else, the stale taint of unwashed humans. This is where many of the city’s homeless end up at night when they can no long hide in the warmth of libraries or drop-in centres. She wraps her scarf more tightly around her neck. She is due in at work in an hour and she still has to travel back to Coventry. She’ll be late, but if she gets news about Joseph and Abel, it will be worth it.

  She turns at the sound of approaching feet. A tall, skinny figure is walking towards her, and next to him, a smaller ragamuffin whom she instantly recognises. It is Abel. She rushes towards the boy, eyes brimming. At last, she has found him. He stands rigid in her embrace, not the reaction she had expected, and she holds him at arm’s length, stares into his cloudy eyes.

  ‘Abel, it’s me, Faith. Joseph’s aunt. I came to find you and take you home.’

  His hair is filthy, and he runs a grubby hand under his nose. ‘I’m not going back.’

  She looks at the skinny man, cheeks so sunken his face resembles a skull. ‘What have you done to him?’

  ‘Me? Nothing,’ he booms in a deep voice. ‘Kid don’t want to go back, then I’m not gonna make him go back. You seen him, so you can leave.’

  ‘Wait a minute. Where’s Joseph?’

  ‘I don’t know no Joseph. I only hang with my brother Abel here. He’s a good kid. He helps with the business.’

  She catches the drift of his meaning. Abel is part of some drug ring, and judging by his appearance, partakes more than he ought to. She tries again, speaking directly to the boy. ‘Your family miss you.’

  The man laughs loudly. ‘Sure they do. I seen them runnin’ around, lookin’ for him. She messin’ with your head, baby boy. Your family don’t give a fuck. Come on. We’re going.’ He begins to walk away, Abel trailing in his wake like an obedient puppy.

  Faith shouts out, ‘No! I’ll pay you.’

  The man turns. ‘Two hundred.’

  ‘I don’t have two hundred.’

  ‘What you got?’

  She gets out her wallet. There’s about one hundred and twenty pounds in it for food and travel. It’s all she has until she next gets paid. ‘Take it all, but tell me where I can find Joseph.’

  She pulls out the notes, waves them at him, and his yellow eyes count them greedily. He holds out his palm.

  ‘Tell me first.’

  He licks his lips. ‘Joseph was too pretty for this game. He was destined for another career path.’

  ‘You’re making no sense.’

  Abel opened his mouth. ‘He means a sex worker.’

  Faith can barely catch her breath. ‘Where? What?’

  ‘You got your information. Hand over the payment,’ says Farai.

  She pleads with Abel. ‘Where is he, Abel? He can’t enjoy that work. Tell me where he is so I can at least talk to him. Please! His mamma is going out of her head with worry. I’ve spent months trying to find him. Help us.’

  The tall man licks his lips again. ‘You can’t talk to him. He didn’t come back from a job.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ The words splutter from her lips.

  For the first time, Farai’s face shows a glimpse of sadness, of humanity. ‘I mean, sister, your boy, Joseph, went to some private members’ club to pleasure a client and he never came back.’

  ‘Which club?’

  ‘It’s called the Maddox Club.’

  ‘Who did Joseph meet there?’

  ‘A gentleman client. Joseph’s pimp says they’re not gentlemen. They’ve been offering a Gold Service and using his girls and boys for a while. He knows full well what they get up to in the club bedrooms. The day after Joseph went missin’, the pimp is told the Gold Service is over and if ever he mentions a word about hirin’ out boys and girls to the Maddox Club, he will get more than he bargained for. They have friends in high places.’

  ‘When did this happen?’

  ‘January the second.’

  Faith’s heart is jack-hammering in her chest. ‘Is he . . . is Joseph dead?’

  ‘He would never have left Abel. They were tight. Something bad happened to him to stop him coming home.’

  ‘Abel?’

  The boy shrugs. ‘It’s true.’

  ‘Who can I speak to? I have to know exactly what happened. Please, Farai. You’re the only one who can help me.’

  He stares at her hard. She’s sure he knows more.

  ‘Please, Farai. For his mamma’s sake.’

  ‘Okay. There’s someone. That night, one of the girls was with another client, in the room next to Joseph’s. She heard screams. She asked the gentleman to go next door and make sure Joseph was okay, but he wouldn’t. He was in the zone, if yo
u catch my drift. Bastard is called Alex Corby.’

  ‘Alex Corby. Can I speak to the girl?’

  ‘No. I told you what she told her pimp. You find Alex Corby and ask him about the Gold Service.’

  ‘Is that the only name she knew?’

  ‘Isn’t it enough?’

  ‘Who was with Joseph? Please. Maybe the girl heard another name. Please, Farai. Joseph and his mamma are all I have in the world.’

  ‘Maybe another name. Somebody called Ian. He’s Alex’s friend. You ask Alex about him. Pimp don’t know no more.’

  ‘Who’s this pimp? I want to speak to him.’

  ‘You just have, sister. That’s everything he knows. Now, hand over the money.’

  She does so, eyes once more on Abel. ‘Abel, come back with me. You don’t have to do this.’

  Abel gives her a vague look. ‘I’m happy here, Faith. I like Farai. He’s good to me.’

  ‘But I can look after you,’ she says.

  Farai places a hand on the boy’s shoulder. ‘Don’t you worry ’bout Abel. I’ll look after him. He’s gonna be just fine.’

  ‘Please. Please do look after him.’ Her words are lost as both turn their backs and walk away. She is hollow. Every emotion has been extracted and she is left with only one thought – revenge.

  The room was warm and stuffy, and damp patches had formed under Kate’s arms. The sadness of the tale was affecting her, and withdrawal from the medication was making her increasingly uncomfortable, but she didn’t stop the interview. It was being video recorded, and next door, Emma and William would be watching how she handled everything. There could be no slip-ups.

  Faith had unwittingly given her a clue. He’d mentioned a threat: ‘friends in high places’. Dickson? She couldn’t pursue that angle at the moment, not with William observing, but she hoped they’d be able to track down Farai to quiz him. Faith looked fatigued; dark patches under her eyes indicated lack of sleep. This quest had taken its toll on her. For a flicker of a second, Kate felt something akin to sympathy, but it vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

  ‘Tell me what happened with Ian Wentworth. Why did you go back twice to his apartment?’

  ‘I took the day off and planned to kill him, but no sooner had I drugged him than Ervin messaged me, asking me to go into work because they were so short-staffed. I gave Ian an extra-large shot of GHB to keep him unconscious and left him tied up, and returned to his apartment later the same day.’

  ‘I spoke to you in the lab Saturday evening.’

  ‘Yes. I’d intended leaving earlier but Ervin had to go out and asked me to stay behind to speak to you. It was a bit of a nuisance, but better to play the part than disappear and draw attention to myself. I left as soon as you’d gone and headed back to Lichfield.’

  Ian’s fat cheek lolls to one side, his neck creased like an elephant’s trunk. He’s barely articulate, but another boost of the drug has rendered him compliant and he answers her questions.

  ‘Do you know a boy called Joseph?’

  ‘Beautiful boy. The best.’

  ‘Did you have sex with him in the Maddox Club?’

  ‘Poor boy. So perfect . . . so delicious . . . I broke him!’ he wails.

  ‘How did you break him?’

  ‘No . . . no . . . no. Awful. Mistake. I should have taken the bag from his head in time but I was enjoying myself so much and . . .’ Tears flow from his eyes. ‘Broken,’ he whispers.

  ‘What happened to his body?’

  ‘Xavier . . . Xavier fixed it. So sorry. So sorry.’

  ‘Xavier who?’

  ‘Manager.’ Ian recedes to unconsciousness and she is sick to her stomach. This repulsive creature ruined the most precious human being, dehumanised him for self-gratification and perverted pleasure. She forces open his mouth, shoves in the choke-pear. She is going to kill him. This time she doesn’t need to ask questions, just make him fully aware why she is torturing him. She waits. He’ll soon come back round.

  The walls in the interview room closed in on Kate. The urge to ask about John Dickson was strong, but she was afraid whatever Faith told her would reach her superintendent’s ears before she got the chance to act on it. He might even be watching the interview, rammed in the room beside Emma and William. She had to tread carefully. ‘Why did you leave Ian’s eye on Superintendent Dickson’s doorstep?’

  Faith held her gaze, arms loose by her side, her whole face relaxed. ‘Why do you think?’

  ‘I’m asking you.’

  ‘He was at the club the night Joseph died. He was in the room the other side of Ian’s and would have heard the screams. If Alex Corby heard them, then he did, too, and is as guilty as Alex. In fact, more so. He’s a police officer. He ought to have acted like one.’

  Although Kate agreed, and knew Dickson ought to have been suspicious, especially when Ian didn’t show up at breakfast, she didn’t want to pursue that line of enquiry. She had to behave as if she fully supported the man. ‘Was he your next intended victim?’

  ‘Yes, but he was moved into safe keeping. You lot like to look after your own, don’t you?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You gave him protection but you didn’t offer any to Cooper or Xavier.’

  ‘At that stage of the enquiry, we didn’t know about their involvement.’

  Faith lifted an eyebrow. ‘Come off it! Superintendent Dickson knew who was at the club with him. He would have passed the information on to you.’

  Kate maintained a poker face in spite of her inner voice agreeing with Faith. Dickson could and ought to have shared his fears, but he’d chosen not to, and that in itself was suspicious. She moved on, anxious to keep such thoughts to herself. Faith couldn’t have known what had been shared and not shared. She believed Dickson would have told them.

  ‘Did Xavier tell you about Cooper Monroe’s involvement?’

  ‘Yes. He blabbed and begged me not to kill him. He whimpered and fawned and swore he knew nothing about Joseph being at the club. According to him, the Gold Service was all Ian’s idea, and the first he’d known about Joseph was when Ian rang him on the internal phone and asked for Cooper. I saw straight through him. Farai told me he had dealt with the club manager, not a member. Xavier arranged for sex workers to be delivered to the club.’

  ‘Why didn’t you didn’t torture Xavier the same way as the others?’

  Faith shrugged. ‘I lost patience with him. I saw the peanuts in the bowl and used those instead of an apple. It was an interesting end to his life. I think he genuinely repented.’

  The lawyer remained stony-faced, as she had done all interview, legs crossed neatly at the ankles, making notes in a tiny scrawl on her pad.

  ‘That brings me to the device you used. What made you choose a choke-pear?’

  ‘My ex-husband. I met him when I was studying at Harare. He taught European history and specialised in medieval history. He kept a small collection of torture devices in a glass cabinet in his office, among them a choke-pear. The marriage broke down, but I never forgot the choke-pear, and when I decided to torture my victims I decided it would suit my purpose. I couldn’t simply buy one, so I had it made to order.’

  ‘By whom?’

  ‘A blacksmith from Derby called George Coombs. I emailed him my design and asked him to make it for me. I told him it was a present for my husband, who was a historian.’

  ‘And he didn’t think it was odd?’

  ‘He didn’t ask me any questions and was happy to take my money. He seemed to believe me. I can be convincing when I choose to be.’

  Kate balled her hand tightly. Faith had certainly pulled the wool over her eyes. ‘Tell me, Faith, why did you choose apples?’

  ‘Is it not obvious to you? You’re an intelligent woman.’

  ‘It’s a symbol of fertility and I understand its significance in the Bible, when Eve tempted Adam with an apple – the symbol of original sin. Is that why you chose it?’

  ‘Partly. I was enlight
ening each of those men responsible for what happened to Joseph. The apple is a complex symbol. It can mean love, joy, wisdom, luxury or death, depending on the context in which you view it. But I prefer the idea of it as the biblical symbol of original sin. The sin that brought about the fall of men. Certainly, it brought about the fall of these men.’

  There was no sense of regret or remorse. Faith had avenged a wrong and, in her mind, that was acceptable.

  ‘Was there any reason you chose the Macoun variety? Was it because your sister works in an orchard where they grow the same variety?’

  The woman put her hands together and applauded lightly. ‘Well done.’

  ‘What about the number of pieces? You cut them into thirteen pieces.’

  Faith scoffed. ‘I don’t need to spell it out, do I?’

  ‘I’d still like to hear your thoughts.’

  She sighed. ‘Thirteen is associated with bad luck. The superstition comes from the Bible again, when the thirteenth guest to sit at the table during the Last Supper was Judas Iscariot, who later betrayed Jesus. It seemed fitting. After all, I wanted them to betray their friends, and they were about to receive the worst sort of luck possible – death.’

  ‘And removing the victims’ eyes? Also related to the Bible – an eye for an eye?’

  ‘In a fashion. It was more because I wanted to frighten them, let them know somebody had their eye on them, that somebody knew what they had done. It seemed a fitting message.’

  ‘Which leaves us with Cooper. I suppose you wanted to kill him, too? You took the choke-pear with you. We found it in your car, although we couldn’t find any apples. What did you intend to do to him?’

  ‘You can’t torture a man like him. He has had special training and would never confess to anything. Cooper is the only person who knows where Joseph is buried. He would have told me what I wanted to know, because I’d have held his daughter hostage and he wouldn’t have wanted any harm to come to her.’