The Camera Lies: a gripping psychological thriller

by AB Morgan

  ‘Annette, I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done. I’d be lost without you and Barney.’ Annette assured him it was ‘no trouble’, before ending the call.

  Having satisfied himself that Lorna was in one piece, Konrad let out a long sigh of relief and sat down on a chair in the corner of the room.

  For a while, the silence was welcome until he was unable to tolerate his thoughts. What am I supposed to do with myself? I need to know what’s going on out there.

  A firm knock heralded the arrival of Staff Nurse Christine who nosed around the door.

  ‘Checking up on me, are you? Don’t panic, I’m not about to kill myself, I’ve got family and responsibilities, and besides which I like life too much.’ As Konrad said this he slowed the end of the sentence. ‘Christine, have you got a pen and paper handy, by any chance? I need to scribble something down before the thought escapes.’

  Richard, Naomi’s colleague, and Helena’s right-hand man in Chawston Recruitment. Why did he kill himself? When Helena died, why was life so intolerable that he wanted to die? Did he have any family responsibilities to consider which would have stopped him from committing suicide? Did he die by his own hand or was he killed because he knew about Naomi?

  When he wrestled with the questions, he couldn’t extricate his thoughts about Helena’s death from his own assault.

  How many people has Tessa killed?

  The phone rang, interrupting his spiralling thoughts.

  ‘Hello, Mr Neale, it’s Jan on reception. I have your barrister for you again.’

  ‘Rupert Van Dahl speaking. Hello, Mr Neale. I hesitate to ask how you are, so I’ll steer clear of that question for now. I have news that you will want to hear regarding your case. The police have been doing a magnificent job and Naomi Woods has not only been arrested and questioned, but charged with the wilful murder of your son, Freddie. She has also been questioned and charged with conspiracy to cause grievous bodily harm to you because the forensic evidence has put her at both scenes. Now for the bad news: the charges against Lorna Yates have not been dropped. However, her legal counsel will argue on the common law test of criminal liability. Actus reus non facit reum nisi mens sit rea. Mens Rea, Mr Neale. It could be argued that you and Lorna could not have committed any wilful acts if there was an absence of free will, because if you were deliberately drugged with a substance that had an effect on your capacity and induced amnesia, then this would be determined as non-insane automatism. Do you see?’

  ‘Yes, I understand completely and I can’t tell you how immensely relieved I am.’ Konrad was choking back more tears. ‘When will Lorna be freed? Can I see her?’

  ‘I don’t think you understand. The court case is going ahead and it will be a judge and jury who decide whether Lorna acted wilfully or not. The evidence alone cannot determine this and it must be argued in court. The bottom line is that Lorna did assault you. Chloe Jordan, also known as Naomi Woods, was found to have been the other person present at the time but has been charged with conspiracy as if she were an accomplice. She didn’t carry out the assault… Konrad, are you there?’

  Sitting with the phone handset dangling limply by its flex between his fingers, the tinny voice of Rupert Van Dahl could be heard calling his name. ‘Konrad? Are you still there?’ After several more seconds, the phone went dead.

  Sheila found her patient sitting in the small office, receiver in hand. ‘Mr Neale, Mr Wells is here to see you.’ She walked over to Konrad and gently touched him on the shoulder, followed by a firm shake. ‘Mr Neale, can you hear me?’ Konrad turned his head towards the sound of her voice but he barely registered who she was.

  Mr Wells stepped forward into his field of vision and took an adjacent seat. ‘My team tells me you wish to be discharged to the care of your daughter and that you are adamant about this.’ Konrad could only reaffirm this with a crisp nod of the head. ‘I’m confident that your wounds are healing well and that physically you are fit to leave our care. However, I am not at all certain that psychologically you are in a fit state of mind to cope with the pressure and stress of current events, your assault and the death of your son.’

  After a lengthy pause the rasping response was said without inflection. ‘What can you do about that? Nothing. So please let me go to be with my family.’

  ‘I’d feel much happier if I could be given your promise to take up the psychology appointments made for you.’

  ‘If that makes you happier, then I agree. Either way, Mr Wells, I have to get out of hospital today. Eliza is collecting me and I’ll stay at her flat until we go home for the funeral.’

  Konrad caught sight of his reflection in the glass window to his left. For a second, he was taken off guard by his own appearance.

  Now I look like Matthew Hawley. Haggard and gaunt. This is what that bitch Tessa has done to us.

  It had been a long journey from Manchester to Bangor in a taxi with Eliza making minimal small talk along the way – trying to appear normal and avoid any reference to her brother. He could see himself in the rear-view mirror and was reassured that his eye patch was in place, covering the worst of the damage to his face. The scars across his cheek and forehead remained inflamed but were nevertheless showing signs of healing well. On the phone during the taxi ride, Konrad had spoken to DCI Anwell who had been unable to dissuade him from making a personal visit to the station. Therefore, before stepping foot inside Eliza’s flat, she was forced to take him to Gwyedd Police Headquarters to meet with DCI Anwell.

  ‘I can understand that you want to be part of the investigation, Mr Neale, but this is our job. Look, our investigations so far do correlate with what you’ve told us. Dr Sarah Tyrell has been spoken to, we have followed up on missing persons’ reports, and we’re looking into Richard’s apparent suicide, but none of that changes the case against Lorna Yates I’m afraid.’

  Until that moment, when the last of his strength was sapped, Konrad hadn’t appreciated how physically drained he had become. He sat digesting the detective’s words and the enormity of the situation overwhelmed him. ‘I feel incredibly powerless. Is there really nothing I can do except wait?’

  35

  The pews in St Mary’s village church were filled, requiring some mourners to take up standing room at the rear and in the side aisles. Konrad took Delia’s hand in his left and Eliza’s in his right as they sat pale and tremulous in the front row overlooking Freddie’s coffin swathed in white lilies. Delia sat with her elderly mother, Grandma Lewis, to her left. Konrad was always astounded at the resemblance that his wife had to her mother, despite the fact that their characters couldn’t be more different. Grandma Lewis was Eliza’s and Freddie’s favourite grandparent based on her ability to make mischief. Sitting on the pew, head bowed, Grandma Lewis looked every day of her seventy-nine years as she battled to maintain her own dignity and bring comfort to her daughter. Konrad’s parents took their place to Eliza’s right, where Granddad Neale provided a broad shoulder for Eliza to turn her face into when the emotions became unbearable. The redoubtable Grandma Neale knelt in prayer, seeking relief from the pain of loss by hanging onto her lifelong faith in God. As the vicar began her solemn task, Grandma Neale stood tall with an iron poker for a backbone, her gaze never wavering from the large cross hanging above the altar.

  ‘I would like to welcome you to this celebration of the life of Frederick Charles Neale who passed all too soon to take his place with our Lord Jesus Christ. I feel very honoured to be here today as we remember his life because ever since I first came to St Mary’s I have watched Freddie, and his twin sister Eliza, grow from gangling adolescents at upper school, to the delightful adults they became. Freddie was always the charming, athletic young man seen with his friends enjoying life to the full and breaking many a girl’s heart…’

  The words that the vicar spoke were well meaning and personal to a degree, but Konrad was numb to their impact. All he could think about was the last sight he’d had of his own son, walking away head
bowed, into the dark night of Bangor’s side streets near The Management Centre. The last time they had spoken together was over breakfast with Chloe there, gloating behind her false hair and contact lenses. The bitterness of the memories threatened to engulf Konrad before the tears of sadness could take hold. He wanted to turn around and stand up to face the friends and family gathered to mourn his son, and to tell them the harsh truth, but he knew better than to commit such a radical breach of cultural boundaries.

  Eliza was sobbing inconsolably, although her efforts to hold her tears in check were plain to see, she failed. The young people that she and Freddie grew up with were standing together tears flowing freely down their young faces as, with immense courage, Freddie’s best friend Lloyd walked to the front of the church and took his place behind the lectern. He had written a poem in honour of Freddie’s smile and charm, which he proceeded to read with an unexpected confidence for one so young.

  When he finished, there was a palpable hush throughout the congregation with only the sound of Eliza’s heartrending sobs breaking the peace. Konrad rose from the pew and offered his hand to Lloyd, expressing his thanks and admiration. Lloyd stepped closer and gave him a man-hug reducing him, finally, to the stream of tears that had threatened to flow throughout the service.

  Stepping outside and walking behind Freddie’s coffin to stand at the graveside, Konrad felt himself slipping out of reality. He was there in his body, but he witnessed the events as if through someone else’s eyes, far away.

  ‘For as much as it hath pleased Almighty God of his great mercy to take unto himself the soul of our dear brother here departed, we therefore commit his body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in sure and certain hope of the Resurrection to eternal life, through our Lord Jesus Christ.’

  Konrad watched the earth being scattered on the wooden coffin, but he didn’t connect with his own actions as he reached down, took a fistful of earth and threw it on top of the shining walnut lid.

  For the rest of the warm and sunny afternoon, the funeral became a blur of heartfelt commiserations from friends, colleagues and police who had attended the private service. Konrad didn’t even register the reactions of his friends to his injuries. Throughout, he continued to hold Delia’s hand for comfort although she barely spoke or acknowledged his existence. It was the only thing he could do.

  ‘Kon, are you and Eliza going back to Wales or are you staying at home for a while?’ Annette asked him, gently taking him aside in what used to be his lounge. She had found him trying to mingle politely with guests eating sandwiches with murmured reverence. Delia was coping by tidying up, wiping surfaces and plumping up cushions to keep her house in order.

  ‘We’ll stay for a few weeks, I think. Eliza might go back to Bangor she said, but I’ll stay here until the trial. I’ve got my room at the Valiant and I’m nearer to Delia if she needs me, and to my real mates, so I’d rather be here. I’ll come into work when I can.’

  ‘You don’t have to.’

  ‘I know, but I want to. I’ll go bonkers if I sit around for the court case. They don’t tell me a bloody thing and the waiting is killing me. Did Mike and Joe manage to find out about Dickie Carlton, by any chance? If not, it’ll give me something to do.’

  Annette hesitated. ‘Yes they did as a matter of fact. I’m not sure this is the place…’ Barney sidled up to Konrad making him jump.

  ‘Sorry, mate.’

  ‘Bugger, I wondered who it was for a second.’

  ‘I forgot you don’t see so well from this side. My fault.’ Barney was stuffing a large slice of gala pie into his mouth and handed Annette another. She beamed at him.

  ‘You’ve got to hand it to The Camp Commandant, she knows how to put on a decent buffet.’ Barney smiled. ‘When can we make a dash for the perimeter fence and head for the pub? I have a couple of pints with my name on them and one or two for you, mate.’

  ‘You can make a start without me if you like, I ought to help Delia clear up the mess.’ Konrad conceded. Barney protested briefly at his friend’s weak will, but was escorted by Annette in the direction of pudding, to fill more time before they could reasonably take their leave and head to The Valiant Soldier.

  ‘Thanks for going to so much trouble.’ Konrad touched Delia’s elbow, which she withdrew immediately. They were alone in her clinical kitchen.

  ‘Drop dead.’

  ‘I thought we were being civil to each other now.’

  ‘You thought wrong. If you hadn’t run after that whore like a dog in heat, then none of this would have happened. I will never forgive you. Never. Not as long as I live. So please piss off to the pub. Oh, and just so you know, as soon as the divorce is settled I’m putting the house on the market and moving to town so we won’t have to meet each other unless we have to. Until then stay away from me. Do I make myself clear?’

  ‘Abundantly. You don’t want my help to tidy up then?’

  ‘No, I don’t want your help so take your fat friends and piss off.’ Delia hissed her final words of dismissal.

  When he caught up with Barney and Annette they were on their second round of drinks and perched on high stools at the bar of The Valiant Soldier. The place was buzzing with chatter until Konrad stepped through the door, those inside saw him, and the volume of the hubbub rapidly reduced.

  ‘Please, being quiet and sombre was never Freddie’s way, so carry on and pretend I’m not here. Pint please, Rob.’ He stood between his two friends and shrugged. ‘I guess they were all talking about me. Hardly surprising in the circumstances.’

  ‘Yes, old mate, you are the talk of the town and most of the cities I would think. Has Delia recovered from the indignity of having her photograph taken by the bloody paparazzi?’

  ‘She wasn’t really in the mood for a chat, Barney. In fact, she was close to poking my other eye out, which is why I left before her talons put in an appearance.’

  ‘You’d think the papers would have been considerate enough to avoid press intrusion at your son’s funeral, but no, there they were lurking in the graveyard, the bastards.’ Barney shook his head in disgust. ‘I must say Eliza was magnificent in the way she handled them. She’s a credit to you, Kon.’

  ‘I hope the court proceedings are going to be managed with more dignity,’ Annette said. ‘I’ve been called as a witness for the defence by the way. Did Barney tell you?’

  ‘Yes. I’m relieved to be honest. Lorna needs the support.’ Konrad tried to keep his voice low as he leant over the bar to pick up his glass of beer. ‘Anyone else we know been called?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. I’ve just been asked to give any dates that I’m unavailable to attend court. When is the pre-trial hearing thing? I thought that was soon.’

  ‘It is. Next Thursday. I’ve been asked to attend a meeting with the CPS barrister. Rockin’ Rupert will be there to outline what I’m to expect at the trial itself. To be fair to the chap, he’s been keeping me as up to date as he can, but the police investigation has been so intensive that what I have to say as a witness will be minimal by the sounds of things. I presume Lorna will plead not guilty but I’ve no idea what Naomi Woods is likely to plead. I don’t even know what name she’s using legally.’ Konrad paused to take a sip of his ale.

  ‘Does it matter, so long as they get to the truth and she gets locked up. She’s a psycho. Fancy using drugs to make people do what you want without them even knowing what’s happening. That’s the same as those date rape drugs but weirder.’ Barney, realising that he had spoken too loudly, apologised by holding his hand up. ‘Sorry.’

  Annette filled the awkward moment. ‘Did I tell you, Mike and Joe found an article in The Telegraph about the Chinese women in Paris using drugs to rob people? They used bunches of flowers which they invited elderly innocent victims to sniff after they stopped them to ask for directions. The drug was in the flowers and the victims didn’t remember a thing afterwards. They gave themselves away because each time they asked for directions they
said they were looking for a mysterious “Dr Wang”. They targeted old people, isolated them, took advantage and robbed them blind. One poor couple had about seventy-five grand stolen from their apartment apparently. Clever buggers the Chinese. The French police say the three people they arrested were a small part of a much wider criminal network operating in the same way.’ Annette slurped her gin and tonic as she looked for Konrad’s reaction.

  ‘That has to be the one. Did the article say anything about how long the memory loss lasted for?’

  ‘I think so. It was quite detailed. Look it up, it’s online.’

  36

  The courtroom fell silent as Konrad took the stand as the opening witness for the prosecution. Rupert Van Dahl, in gown and wig, kept eye contact with his client who was approached by the court usher and asked if he preferred to swear on the bible or to affirm that he would tell the truth.

  He tried to remain composed as he read from the card. ‘I do solemnly, sincerely and truly declare and affirm that the evidence I shall give shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.’ He was trembling as he handed the card back to the usher and, as he did so, raised his head towards the dock at the far end of the courtroom.

  There, in a glass-fronted cubicle, sitting four or five feet apart, were Lorna and Naomi, flanked by prison escort staff. The two accused women were neatly dressed in business suits staring straight ahead, expressionless. Lorna’s hair was scraped back in a severe ponytail. They looked out from behind their glass prison onto the modern windowless courtroom where the legal teams sat at long beechwood veneered desks, which mirrored those of the judge and the court reporter. The whole room was efficiently lit with spotlights atop the wooden clad walls, and natural light streaming through a large skylight. The number of public and press present in the courtroom was restricted, with the vast majority clamouring for news and photographs outside the square modern edifice of the Crown Court in Caernarfon.