by AB Morgan
‘We’re not supposed to be here. No visitors until after two p.m. apparently, but Barney sweet-talked the nurses who allowed us in because we’re on your approved list. The policeman even had us checked out. This is a scary business, Kon.’ It seemed to Konrad that Annette was trying hard not to show how shocked she had been at the sight of her friend wrapped in bandages, battered and bruised. Barney was less subtle.
‘You look a fuckin’ sight. Why are you in a nightdress?’
Konrad grinned and looked down at himself, which hurt, but having Barney with him made him feel more confident, more normal again. He loved that fact that Barney said what he thought; it was far better than everyone else’s tentative approach.
‘I’m wearing some net knickers as well.’
‘And you reckon you’re not gay?’
Annette sighed. ‘Good grief, what are you two like together? It was bad enough having a lift in Barney’s car all the way here, but the pair of you are worse. We’ve bought some goodies for you.’ Annette unloaded a magnificent bunch of shiny red grapes and a large bag of yoghurt-covered raisins onto his table. ‘There was more when we set out but we came over peckish after breakfast and we ate quite a lot of the biscuits and a couple of muffins before we got here. Anyway, enough of that; what’s the news on your eye?’
‘It’s gone. The surgeon said it was too badly damaged to save, so they’ve removed it.’
With Annette and Barney silenced, Konrad tried to make light of the stunned pause and a bad state of affairs. ‘Delia always said I had a wandering eye. Perhaps that was the one. Now it’s gone I shall behave myself and Lorna will never have to worry about me being unfaithful.’ As he said the word “Lorna” it caught in his throat. He had tried so hard not to get overwrought about how she was, where she was, and whether she would be coping, but his heart was literally aching with not knowing.
Barney gave his best friend a quizzical look. ‘But the news said she did this to you out of bitter and twisted revenge for dumping her.’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t get you.’
‘I’ll try to explain. You have to keep absolute secrecy on this. Total. One leak and we’re dead. Annette knows about some of this but you don’t. Lorna did injure me, apparently; although neither of us have any memory of Saturday night, and before you say anything, we hadn’t been drinking. Not one glass. As Annette knows, I’ve been stalked for the last few weeks by a nutter, an unhinged woman who threatened me in no uncertain terms. It’s to do with a documentary we filmed. I ignored the threats and this is the result. She made Lorna do this to me using some sort of drug.’
‘They didn’t say anything about this on the news. The police made a statement this morning and they never mentioned it either.’ Barney said sounding sceptical of Konrad’s disclosure.
‘No, because they can’t. She, the nutter, has to think she’s got away with this otherwise the police may not catch her. I can’t give you too many details ’cause I’m not even certain myself, but if it is Tessa Carlton and she used the same method on Matthew Hawley then…’
Annette looked visibly shaken. ‘Then he is innocent too, like Lorna. Bloody hell, Kon, this is what he wanted us to prove.’
28
According to Annette, Lorna was being held on remand at a women’s prison facility in Gloucestershire. ‘Two hundred miles of motorway between Bangor and Gloucester. There isn’t one single women’s prison in Wales, I found out. Isn’t that a disgrace?’ Konrad’s face had crumpled as Annette said these words.
‘How can we get to see her?’
‘You can’t I don’t think. I’ve managed to contact her defence lawyers and once I explained who I was, they were really helpful. They’ll ask her to put me on her list of visitors. I didn’t tell them I was seeing you as well, that way I can be the go-between, as long as we keep quiet. Visitors get three one-hour slots per week, which is quite a lot. I’m going to go as soon as I can, it’s only a couple of hours on the train from Paddington to Gloucester. I know you’re desperate for news on how she is, Kon, but I was given platitudes, nothing more.’
‘It’s killing me not knowing how she is. Is she allowed to phone me?’
‘I don’t know. I doubt it. I’ll take her any messages from you but they’ll have to be verbal. In the meantime, Slow Joe and Mike have dug around for as much information as possible on Tessa to try to help you, but we’ve been contacted by the police to hand over everything, pretty much. The documentary film, the transcript, our notes, they even have the searches Joe and Mike did by hacking into the NHS spine thingy. Mike is shitting himself.’
‘That sounds like a rapid response to me. Just be doubly sure who you’re handing things over to.’
Annette scowled. ‘I’m not an idiot.’
‘What can I do to help?’ Barney asked.
Konrad thought for a few moments before hitting on an ideal role for his friend and ally. ‘I need you to spy on The Camp Commandant. I don’t care what she does, but Freddie has decided to live with her to be closer to the sickly-sweet Chloe and there is something distinctly unpleasant about her. Which reminds me, I need to tell the police that I saw Chloe drive back into The Management Centre not long before I was attacked. I don’t trust that girl and I don’t know what she wants from Freddie, but it can’t be love. Can you work on Freddie?’
‘No problemo, compadre. I shall entice him into my workshop to look at expensive vehicles and my dirty calendars, and then I shall take him to the pub for a manly chat about sex and women. As you know, old mate, old chum, old mucka… that son of yours likes to show off and I am a pervert who likes to hear about slippy moments in the bedroom with a young woman who has a set of jugs I’d like to die in. Though she’s a bit slim for me, that Chloe, I like a lot more meat on the bone…’ Barney suddenly seemed to remember that Annette was sitting next to him and Konrad was thrilled to see how his friend’s eyes were drawn like magnets to Annette’s fulsome balcony of breast. He watched, entertained, as Barney blushed to a shade of crimson.
Annette took his words as an immense compliment. ‘You are a man of discerning tastes after all, Mr Ribble. You and I will get on just fine. Shall I see if I can find us a coffee?’ Annette rocked herself out of the chair and waddled towards the door. ‘Back in a few minutes.’
Barney let out his pent-up tension. ‘Konrad, me old mate. I’m in so much trouble.’
‘No you’re not. She took that as genuine flattery.’
‘I don’t mean that. I mean she’s as horny as buggery and I can barely control myself. I want to stick my head in ’er tits and roll it from side to side in ecstasy. I’ve ’ad trouble driving, talking, and eating is the worst. She licks her lips at me and I get a hard-on. What am I going to do?’
Konrad hadn’t had anything to smile about for what seemed like weeks. At first, he thought Barney was playing with him and messing about to cheer him up, until he heard the genuine agony in Barney’s voice. ‘It’s true, you do like a big woman then?’
‘Oh, dear me, do I ever. I wish Eliza had never made arrangements for me to give Annette a lift. I feel like a sodding teenager. She has a pretty face, shiny hair and a good brain, the whole package, and I want to unwrap it. What am I going to do?’
Konrad smiled, understanding his friend entirely. ‘She likes a straight talker, so why don’t you tell her what you think, and ask if she would like you to book into a local hotel tonight. That way you can test the water about the room arrangements and see me again tomorrow. I’ll want an update. Have you got my hospital phone number? Keep me posted.’
Konrad had every confidence that Barney’s wish would come true. He had worked with Annette for years and held close the secrets shared between them in the editing suite and over lunch. He was party to the inner workings of Annette’s mind and secret sexual appetites.
He cast his mind back to the last half-pissed conversation they had after work in a local pub near the station, only a couple of weeks previously. Konrad had teased Annette about her love l
ife, or rather lack of it.
‘Don’t tell me you’d rather spend it with your cats,’ he’d said. She had been offended.
‘No. As it happens I’m looking for a man of decent proportions, who is practical and knows how to enjoy life. I want a piece of rough. Someone who smells of hard work and who delights in a woman who has invested in her body.’
Konrad smiled at the memory of Annette indicating her own wholesome form, before she grabbed hold of her breasts and thrust them, fully clothed, in his direction. He had choked on his spinach and ricotta pie laughing at her wild indecent gesture, he recalled.
The day went by rapidly in the company of his two friends, but they finally made their move before three in the afternoon, having booked into a hotel nearby. Konrad, therefore, had time to doze off again between medication, drinks, and regular assessment by Sheila, and by Christine after three.
He liked Christine. She was a scatterbrain who often came in, looked at him, only to report that she’d forgotten what she was about to do.
‘Vital signs?’
‘No, done them. I know, empty your catheter bag. This is always a pleasure. Nice clear urine, Mr Neale.’
‘That’s good news at least I still have a pair of kidneys.’
‘Yes, you do. But you could manage with one, just like you will with one eye. It’s your mind that you have to cope with. The psychological barriers will be your test, but I have every faith in you and your good friends. What a fun couple they are. I saw them at lunch eyeing each other up over a plate of lasagne and chips. I take it they haven’t been married long.’
Konrad was almost laughing. ‘They haven’t known each other long at all, but let’s say there’s enormous potential for them to be making children together very soon.’
‘How lovely,’ Christine replied, missing the nuances of the comment. ‘Now then, your legal man is with the Welsh Police and I think they want to see you together. Are you comfortable? Need any pain relief? Right, I’ll fetch them in and bring another chair. Press your call bell if you need to, but otherwise we’ll ensure you’re not interrupted.’
Konrad had been distracted from his dire circumstances by Annette and Barney, for which he thanked them. Now, however, he had to confront the horrors of what happened on Saturday night, but he equally knew that he couldn’t cope with not knowing. There were things he had yet to be told and sights he had yet to see. One eye or two, it would scar him forever.
You’re a bitch, Tessa Carlton, a fucking screwed-up psychopathic bitch.
DCI Anwell opened the door to allow a barrel of a man in a pinstriped suit to enter before him. He introduced himself, ‘Hello there, Mr Neale, I’m Rupert Van Dahl.’
How can you be called Rupert and actually look like Rupert The Bear? I thought barristers were distinguished and lofty. Isn’t Van Dahl a Dutch name? Aren’t the Dutch tall people? Not short and round.
He sighed internally as he shook the proffered podgy hand and scanned the ruddy face of a man who liked a whiskey.
‘Shall we get straight down to business? The police would like to take more detailed information from you on a few matters. They have also made the film evidence available to you. You don’t have to watch this at all; in fact, you could see one or two still shots if you prefer, but if you insist then I suggest you watch it through before making any observations or comments. It could be a painful experience if you can’t recall any of the events, so please state if you need to take a break at any time.’
‘Mr Van Dahl, I have a chunk of time missing from my life during which, I’m told, I lost my eye and indulged in some sexual activities that are not in my usual repertoire. I’m not into sadomasochism, just so you know. I have to see for myself what happened.’
‘I completely understand, Mr Neale.’
‘Mr Van Dahl, I hope you never have to understand.’ The expression on Rupert Van Dahl’s face confirmed that this last statement had fallen on deaf ears.
Konrad was relieved to see DCI Anwell and DS Ffion Jenkins; he felt they had accepted his insistence that Tessa Carlton was implicated. What they had told him so far reassured him that they were determined to unravel the convoluted facts surrounding his assault and the conviction of Matthew Hawley; crimes that were linked and intertwined.
‘You look a little better than when we last saw you,’ DS Jenkins noted with a smile. ‘Has there been anything else that you can recall to help us?’
‘I know I gave you most of the details about Saturday night before it all goes blank, but I didn’t mention about my son’s girlfriend, Chloe. It’s probably nothing, but–’
‘It’s never nothing in complex cases like these,’ DCI Anwell interrupted. ‘We are aware of your son’s girlfriend, and we have spoken to Freddie. Please, tell us what you can.’
He was brief in his description of Chloe’s return to the hotel after saying goodbye to Freddie. ‘I have no idea whether that’s relevant or not, but I felt I should mention it.’
‘What do you know about her?’ DS Jenkins asked.
‘Not an awful lot. She met Freddie in the Tap and Spile pub the weekend before last and they hit it off straight away. He even spent the night with her at the hotel. She was something to do with organising an event there.’ Konrad caught a look that passed fleetingly between the two detectives, but ignored it.
‘Do you know who she works for?’
‘No. I’m not sure she said. She was one of those airy-fairy girls, and I have a habit of switching off when I have to deal with people like her. They irritate me. I took more notice of her car; she had a blue BMW, a decent one, possibly a four series. Are you considering her as a suspect?’
‘As I said, we’re following up on all leads. Everything. Your work colleagues have been incredibly helpful on the issue of Tessa Carlton. I’ve had a team on it and they haven’t managed to get much further than your two chaps did. They’re good. We may have a use for them.’ DCI Anwell kept the interview conversational, apparently appreciating Konrad’s fragile grip on rationality and logical thought in the face of tremendous stress. ‘I’ve updated Mr Van Dahl here with the details of our enquiry into Tessa Carlton, and the possibility that she had a hand in the events of Saturday night. That is, of course, just one theory.’
Rupert Van Dahl rolled forward in his chair to speak to his client. ‘Yes, Mr Neale, this information puts a completely different slant on the case and I’m wondering how to proceed if evidence indicates that you and Miss Yates were both victims.’
DCI Anwell continued. ‘We’ve transcribed the text messages from your phone and traced the relevant numbers to pay-as-you-go mobiles and a number of SIM cards. It’s a non-productive trail at the moment. We’re looking into a number of angles and so far, we’ve accounted for every one of the guests who were staying at The Management Centre as far back as two weeks ago. Having said that, your son’s girlfriend is proving a challenge. She seems to have done a disappearing act and Freddie is not being as cooperative as we had expected him to be.’
This information, wrapped up in polite terms, struck Konrad as unacceptable. ‘What do you mean Freddie has been uncooperative? I don’t understand why he wouldn’t tell you everything he knows.’
‘We agree with you, Mr Neale, and we checked. He hasn’t been to see you has he?’
‘No. His sister tells me that I belittled him in front of his girlfriend and he’s royally pissed off with me for how I behaved. I’m fairly sure that’s not the whole story… Look, Detective Anwell, Freddie is besotted with this girl and she has him around her little finger.’ He prayed he was wrong with his next question. ‘Could she be Tessa Carlton?’
This time Konrad did acknowledge the look that passed between the two detectives. ‘You think she might be, don’t you?’
‘It’s one line of enquiry.’
DS Jenkins changed the subject. ‘Are you sure you feel up to watching this film? You’ve had an awful lot to come to terms with in the space of two days. We can do this another time or
in another way.’ She bit her lip.
Konrad took a deep breath before daring to answer. ‘I’m ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.’
DS Jenkins closed the vertical blinds on the windows into the hospital room, taking the time to alert the policeman on duty outside that strictly no one was to enter. She then hooked up the police laptop to the television set in the room. The detectives kept an eye on Konrad and his reactions. There was no sound track leaving only silence, creating a tense and unnerving atmosphere in the hospital side room.
The hotel room, number 110, was well lit from the main overhead lighting and from reading lamps on the wall above the capacious bed. Curtains were closed. Lorna and Konrad were kneeling on the bed facing each other, kissing passionately. He was seen unbuttoning her blouse to expose her bra, which she then removed for him, before taking his hands and placing them on her bare breasts, nipples tight. The towelling robe that he had worn that night had fallen open and from the angle of the camera Konrad’s cock could be seen as it twitched and waved when he rocked back on his heels to disrobe. Then bizarrely he and Lorna turned to the camera as if taking instructions.
She kissed him again and moved his face into her breasts before he turned on all fours as she indicated for him to do. Reaching for a small length of rope, which had been placed on the pillow to her right, Lorna gently flicked it onto his buttocks allowing one frayed end to fall onto his balls. She gradually drew it upwards to tickle him, repeating this move several times. Konrad writhed in ecstasy, mouthing something. Before she pulled back her hand with the rope in it, she smiled at the camera and whipped Konrad hard on the back and on the buttocks, ten times in all. Konrad barely flinched; his expression was one of bliss. He turned back to face Lorna and she lovingly touched his face. He swung his legs round to sit on the edge of the bed where she stood in front of him caressing herself. He sucked at her nipples while she pleasured herself. She stopped, looked towards the camera and then walked around to the other side of the bed. As she passed by the dressing table, she picked up a long knife. Konrad stood up and followed her.
