by J G Alva
Sutton put the porcelain dolphin back on top of the bookshelf. Tursiops truncates. He remembered talking to Diane about that very thing, a million years ago. What did he know about it? What did he know about all that had happened? Some of it, most of it, but not all of it.
Gavin returned with a tray of drinks. It was some type of eggnog of his own devising. God alone knew what was in it.
“Can I ask you something?” Sutton said, as Gavin handed out the drinks to Diane and Hill.
His tone made Gavin frown, but he said, “sure.”
“When did you begin to suspect Bodel?”
Gavin finally came to him with the tray.
“Want one?”
Sutton smiled.
“Sure.”
He took one. He sipped it. It tasted like Christmas.
Gavin deposited the tray in the kitchen and returned to answer Sutton’s question.
“Sit down,” he said, indicating one of the leather sofa chairs.
Sutton did so.
Gavin joined Diane and Hill on the sofa, sitting next to the Detective’s niece and automatically fitting an arm around her. She seemed eminently comfortable with this.
“It was the routine,” Gavin said.
“What?”
“The routine,” he said. “I’d get ill after visiting Bodel, and then I’d get better. And then I’d visit him again, get immediately ill again, and then when I stayed away I’d get better. This happened three times before I was suspicious enough to go to another doctor.”
“Waverley,” Sutton said.
“Yes. I like that old coot.”
“And the printout?”
“I found it in Bodel’s office,” Gavin said. “After I was suspicious.”
“Did you go to the Meischer Centre?”
“No,” Gavin admitted, “but I did a little research on the Epstein-Barr virus. I assumed that had to be how he was doing it. But I couldn’t prove it.”
There was a thoughtful pause.
“Also,” Gavin continued, “I saw Bodel once, when I was delivering.”
Sutton frowned.
“What was he doing?”
“It was completely by accident,” Gavin said. “I was covering for another driver’s route in Bristol, this must have been at the beginning of September. He came out of a house I was to deliver a parcel to. I tried to catch him but he went off in the other direction; he didn’t see me. I knocked on the door and asked if that was Dr Bodel, and we got talking. And that person was Richard Farrow’s father, Phillip.”
“A coincidence,” Hill said gruffly. “That’s all it was.”
“He said he didn’t know you,” Sutton pointed out.
“I don’t think he was noticing much of anything, at that point,” Gavin said. “I could have been wearing a pink elephant costume, and he wouldn’t have remembered.”
Grief can do strange things to people.
“But I wasn’t really suspicious of Bodel, not at that point, just…speculative,” Gavin said. “So I took a couple of sick days and followed Bodel.”
“And that’s where the names on the list came from,” Sutton said.
Gavin nodded. He looked blandly cheerful…completely unaware of the mayhem he had caused for everybody.
“Janice had more names, but she was afraid to release them,” he said. “She certainly wouldn’t let them out of her sight.”
Sutton wanted to feel angry with him, but couldn’t; having him alive when they had all thought him dead did not allow such negative feelings; it swept the board clean of them.
“And that’s when the scam was uncovered,” Hill said, with a disapproving look.
Gavin’s expression was more guarded now.
Hill continued, “may I ask what happened to the ill-gotten gains of that illegal venture?”
Diane turned and said irately, “he’s already told you a thousand times: he doesn’t have it. They must have taken it when they abducted him.”
Hill didn’t look like he quite believed it.
Gavin caught Sutton’s eyes then, and the look he gave him was obvious: the location of the money would not be divulged by him. Sutton had tried to give it back, but Gavin wouldn’t accept it. He kept pretending ignorance, literally turning to him and saying, “what money? I have no idea what you are talking about,”…which was at the same time puerile, infuriating, and totally Gavin-like.
Sutton didn’t want the money. Having Gavin back was reward enough.
So he might make a wedding present of it, if Gavin finally decided to make an honest woman of the solicitor.
“Why did you do it?” Hill pressed.
Diane gave out an annoyed huff.
“He’s told you that too. He knew that if he was going to take on Bodel he would need money. His credit score is so bad he couldn’t get a loan-“
“He could have sold this house,” Hill said, indicating the room, and by inference the building.
“There wasn’t time. You know all this.”
Hill gave a confirming grunt, but then said, “so it’s okay to rob?”
Diane stared at Hill with a peeved expression, but before she could answer, Gavin interjected by saying, “no, it absolutely is not, and as soon as this house is sold, I will pay back any money that I owe.”
“He’s told you that too,” Diane pointed out.
There was an awkward moment of silence for a moment. Drinks were sipped, and looks were avoided.
“I knew no one would believe me,” Gavin said slowly, his look distant…looking back. “I hardly believed it myself. He was a respected doctor, after all. He worked with kids. He was on the board of half a dozen charities and committees. Even then I wasn’t really sure. And then…then I met Janice.” Gavin looked at Sutton. “She had suspected for some time. She probably told you all this. She was busily putting all the data together, but she knew that unless it was completely unimpeachable, totally solid, then it would all be for nothing: he would carry on, but she would be ostracised.”
“Yes,” Hill said. “Whistle blowers are generally hounded out of the NHS.”
“She had more to lose than I did,” Gavin succinctly pointed out, even though he had almost lost his life.
“Why is she not here?” Gavin asked Sutton.
He smiled.
“She’s working,” he explained. The truth was too complicated to go into…and she wouldn’t want anyone to know anyway.
“It’s a shame,” Gavin said. “This is as much her victory as it is ours.”
Gavin raised his glass, and there was a silent toast.
“So why leave me the list and the lockbox?” Sutton asked, scratching his chin.
Gavin smiled.
“You know the answer to that.”
Sutton did.
“Wouldn’t it have been better to leave it with the police though?” Sutton pressed.
Gavin made a face: perhaps.
But he said, “I couldn’t trust the police to pursue it. Sorry, Richard,” he said to Hill, “but I just didn’t think there was enough.”
“Was there enough?” Sutton asked the detective.
Hill stared into his drink.
“Maybe not,” he admitted. “It’s very…muddied.”
Gavin shrugged: there you go.
He addressed Sutton when he said, “but I knew that if I gave it to you, if I gave you the absolute bare minimum, that you wouldn’t rest until you had gotten to the bottom of it.”
“Why?” Diane asked, looking at Sutton.
“Because Sutton is mad for puzzles,” Gavin said. “He can’t leave them alone. Not until he has the answer. I remember somebody gave me a puzzle once, one of those lateral thinking ones. I couldn’t work it out, I didn’t have a clue, but it took Sutton about a minute. Do you remember what it was?”
Sutton nodded and said, “A police officer sees a truck driver clearly going the wrong way down a one-way street, but does not try to stop him. Why not?”
Gavin had started to l
augh.
Diane frowned and looked at her uncle, who shrugged.
“What’s the answer?” She asked.
“It’s silly,” Gavin said.
Sutton smiled when he said, “the truck driver was walking.”
There was a moment of surprise, and then Diane laughed. Even Hill seemed amused.
“See,” Gavin said. “I knew that if I could get him interested, if I could get him hooked, that he would put it all together. And, well…” He spread his hands. “Look what happened.”
Diane absorbed that, and then said, “why didn’t you tell me?”
She was almost, but not quite, accusatory.
“I didn’t want to get you involved,” Gavin said.
“But I was involved.”
“Yes, but not-“
“Because I was involved with you. Because I cared about you.”
“That’s why I didn’t-“
“You didn’t think, did you.”
Gavin gave a frustrated sigh.
“What about your friend?” Diane said, indicating Sutton. “What about Sutton?”
Gavin frowned.
“What about him?”
“Didn’t you think about what you might be getting him involved in?” Diane pressed. “The danger you might be putting him in?”
“Diane,” Sutton said, because there was no need to go over this.
She shot him a withering stare, so he halted his protestations.
“I think you owe him an apology,” Diane continued.
Gavin looked chastised in that moment, and his smile looked suitably guilty.
“Diane told me what happened, Sut,” he said “About you being trapped. In Barrow Gurney. I’m sorry, I didn’t know…” He looked lost for words then. “Was it…was it really bad?”
For a moment, Sutton flashed back to that dark interior: to waking up in the dark with no idea of where he was; to jumping from the dentist’s chair to grab the pipe; to getting stuck in that crawlspace; to the fear, always the fear, suffocating him with its icy embrace.
How would he ever explain these things to them? How could he make anyone understand just what it had been like, how terrible it had been?
And, of course, why would he want to?
“It wasn’t that bad,” Sutton said eventually. “Just…inconvenient.”
Gavin nodded.
To Diane, he said, “see, I told you: he’s not scared of anything.”
“I know he’s not scared of anything,” she said, looking at Sutton. “I watched while he stared down the barrel of a shotgun. I don’t know how he did it. It scared me half to death, and I was sitting in a car about fifty feet away.”
She stared at him, they were all staring at him, and Sutton shifted uncomfortably under their gaze.
“I think you must be made of stone,” she said, in an almost child-like voice.
She shivered, and then turned to Gavin.
“Anyway, it doesn’t matter,” Diane said, hitting his arm, but only half playfully. “You put him in danger. It was a completely irresponsible, stupid, selfish way to behave. You should have gone to someone and asked for help. Why didn’t you ask someone for help?”
Gavin’s expression was hard when he said, “I don’t accept charity.”
“Oh my God!” Diane said, hitting him again. “It’s not charity if someone loves you!”
Gavin took hold of her hands and, half embarrassed and trying not to laugh, said, “alright. Alright. I’ll know for next time.”
“Next time?”
“I mean,” Gavin said, still trying not to laugh, “I’ll try not to be so…closed off. In the future. Okay? Is that alright? Will that make you happy?”
“Be careful,” Hill said, getting up. “She’s a solicitor. She’ll have you put that in writing.” Hill looked at Sutton then, and grinned. “And we’re witnesses.”
*
“His name was Charles Peet,” Hill said.
They were in the kitchen. Hill had to leave, as he was due at his eldest daughter’s house shortly. He stood by the back door, his hand on the doorknob.
“Same height, build, hair colour, blood type. We couldn’t do much in the way of a dental match, because of the extent of the damage. Still…we should have spotted that it wasn’t you.”
“I remember him,” Gavin said, thinking back. “He was helping that guy…”
“Scott Bradley,” Sutton said.
“Yeah. I sort of half came round, as they were dragging me down the stairs.”
“He was another addict,” Sutton explained. “Bodel was controlling him just like he was controlling Scott. Only Charles Peet didn’t know he was going to end up acting as your body double.”
“So he took him there, got him to help, and then smashed him up?” Gavin said. “Jesus. That’s brutal.”
“Scott Bradley was brutal,” Sutton said. “No better than a mindless animal.”
“We found him,” Hill said. “Scott Bradley. His body was identified yesterday.”
“So he did die in the fire,” Sutton said.
“Yes.”
“I guess Bodel’s plan backfired,” Gavin said. “He lost his strongest general.”
“Well,” Sutton said, and then paused.
Diane stared at his face and said, “you don’t think Bodel wanted him to kill himself?”
Sutton shook his head, but then said, “I don’t know. Could he have taken him with him? If he had left the country? Scott Bradley must have been high maintenance: Bodel had to have enough drugs to control him, but not enough to get him into trouble. So it would have made more sense to get rid of him…I guess it really depends on how much control he had over him. I don’t think he could have ordered Scott to kill himself – no one could ever be that far gone – but what if he doused his sleeve in petrol? Would Scott notice, in his drug induced state?”
They all thought about that for a moment.
“I’m not sure I believe that,” Hill said. He looked uncomfortable with the prospect.
“It’s a disturbing thought,” Gavin admitted.
“It’s just…horrible,” Diane said. “Not just that, but the whole thing. All those years he’s been our family doctor. And now, when I think of him…”
She shuddered.
Gavin put a reassuring arm around her.
“A grade A psycho,” he said.
Hill said to Gavin, “and they don’t know…?”
Gavin shrugged.
“I’ve got tests in the new year,” he said. “According to Bodel’s files, I successfully beat NHL three times, but…nobody can understand how that is possible. At least, none of the doctors can understand it. So they are going to stick some needles in me and find out if I’m the medical marvel Bodel thought I was.”
“It doesn’t seem right somehow,” Diane remarked, “to use his research, when he hurt so many people.”
Gavin shrugged.
“Then what do you do? Let all of those poor people die for nothing?”
He looked around at them all, but nobody had an answer.
“Will Sutton need to be involved in the court case?” Gavin asked Hill.
Hill stared at Sutton, and then slowly shook his head.
“No,” he said. “Your testimony should be enough.”
“What about Grace Chapel?” Diane asked him, and then turned to Sutton. “We still have that signed statement.”
Sutton made a face.
“Leave them be,” he said finally.
“Sutton.”
Diane was shocked.
“He came at you with a gun-“
“Which wasn’t loaded,” Sutton pointed out. “I said I wanted revenge, but I don’t.” He was thinking about the teddy bear, and the plastic bag full of food, and the note left with his car. Not bad people. Not really. Just twisted and broken by the world. “Grief can do strange things to people…and Grace and her husband have suffered enough.”
“You’re sure?” Hill asked.
Sut
ton nodded.
“Leave them be.”
But Hill didn’t like it.
“You won’t change his mind,” Diane said to him, with her eyes on Sutton. “I thought Gavin was stubborn…but I don’t think he has anything on Sutton Mills.”
*
He had told them that Janice was working, but that wasn’t true, at least not then.
Christmas had been a dismal affair, despite Sutton’s limited success…and he was forced to spend it alone, despite Janice’s promises to the contrary.
But those promises had been made before Veronica had gotten to her.
Before it had all come apart.
Before Sutton had been unable to protect her.
Before Janice had been introduced to the perverse, bizarre, and corrupted depths that Sutton always seemed to be mired in, no matter how cleanly and thoroughly he thought he had extricated himself.
For two days after rescuing her from Veronica’s house, she had spent most of her time sleeping…with the help of Waverley’s medication, of course: eighteen hours the first day, and then fourteen hours the next. Sutton roused her for food, and he often heard her shuffling back and forth to the bathroom, but there was no discourse, no significant interaction, and certainly no contact.
The third day seemed to bring about a change, in which Janice was up, showered and dressed before he was. She had called her father to come and collect her, she told him. She was going to stay with her parents for a while. She stood in the hall looking severe, wounded, angry and beautiful, all at the same time. She wouldn’t meet his eye. Sutton didn’t challenge her. She looked on the verge of tears anyway, and seemed to be holding herself together through an effort of will alone. He feared anything he said would shatter what little control she had.
The father arrived shortly thereafter, and she passed Sutton in the hall, careful not to touch him. She said she would call in a few days.
Frankly, he doubted that she would ever call again.
But she did call, a week later, two days into the new year.
She was at home, and would he like to see her. Of course he would. He drove, his mood swinging between resignation and hope during the journey. He wasn’t sure what he would find.
The door opened, and Janice was there. He hadn’t expected an overly warm welcome – not if their last conversation was anything to go by – but neither had he expected the cold, stoic, distant face of a stranger. She cordially invited him in. She directed him to the lounge, to the sofa. She sat in the armchair. There was silence a moment, in which Sutton clearly heard the rotary washing line in the back garden turn squeakily in the wind.
