by Max Hardy
‘When Doves Cry. The song is When Doves Cry.’ she whispered, looking intently into the camera. ‘Dig if you will a picture, of you and I engaged in a kiss.’ Her body started to shake ever so slightly, eyes dilating as she appeared to be losing control, but then the quivering subsided and she returned to the rhythmic infliction of pain.
‘The first time I kissed a girl was in 1984. I had no plans to kiss her. She was called Hannah Matthews and we had been good friends since primary school. I liked her a lot but the thought of kissing a girl had never even crossed my mind. We both loved Prince and it was the year Purple Rain was out at the pictures. Our other friends weren’t really that into him, but we were purple through and through. It’s funny what you remember.’ She paused, drifting off into her memory for a few seconds before continuing. ‘We went to the Regal Picture Hall in Blyth on the first night it was out. It was a fleapit and we were the only ones in there, so we sat right at the back in worn and ripped red faux suede seats. There were bits of popcorn all over the floor and your feet stuck to the syrup of spilt drinks. That didn’t matter though. It would be a massive understatement to say we were excited. We talked about nothing else for weeks leading up to it and all through the trailers and adverts we were giggling and screeching out the songs at the top of our voices. There was no one else in there, so the ushers didn’t care. We were spring loaded with pent up excitement, ready and impatient for the start, and in all innocence we were holding hands, trying to keep each other calm enough to be able to enjoy the movie. That’s fourteen year old girls and hormones for you. The movie started and for whatever reason our hands just stayed entwined.’
She paused and the rhythmic circling against the restraints ceased. Her sunken, bloodshot eyes, the irises a faded green, looked down from the camera and what might have been warmth tried to break out in the contours and curves of her gaunt, haunted face as she retreated into the memory.
‘The raking guitar of the first bars of ‘When Doves Cry’ screamed out. We were so engrossed in the movie I don’t think either of us realised that the handholding had turned into stroking, the delicate tips of Hannah’s fingers gently meandering up and down the inside of my arm. It was the static tingling born in the depths of my stomach that made me look, the growing glow of joy that began to consume every bit of me, made my skin shine and spark with the essence of her touch. The lyrics started, ‘Dig if you will a picture, of you and I engaged in a kiss’ and we looked at each other. We looked beyond the touch, beyond the skin, deep into the feelings that were curving her beautiful smile to radiance, deep into the emotions that were cascading from her eyes, from my every pore. It was undeniable, unequivocal. In that moment we were being consumed by love. We both leaned towards each other at exactly the same time and, eyes wide open, our lips tenderly touched. Within my veins, her essence beat, my heart palpitating with the absolute clarity of being loved, of being in love. It is the only time in my life that I have been absolutely sure of every single feeling, emotion and thought that passed through my soul. Our lips parted, and for the remainder of the song we just watched the enormity of that moment paint itself onto our faces.’
She fell silent again, her body still in the confines of her restraints, in the confines of the chair, in the confines of the cell, spirit free in her minds tapestry.
‘Your son. Tell me about the first time you kissed your son.’ crackled his voice over the speaker, breaking the moment.
Suddenly her body tensed and she glared up at the camera, the placation gone in an instant. The circling of her limbs against the straps intensified and the obvious veins on her bald head began to throb with the exertion of her movements. She started to shake within her confines and spittle dribbled from the sides of her wedged open mouth.
‘He was sweet.’ she whispered, her breathing frantic, the words full of venom.
‘Sweet?’ he asked.
‘His tasted so, so sweet.’ Her words were sneered now, sibilant, yet low and full of menace. ‘As I sat astride, taking every inch of him inside me, laughing manically as I tore his chest open with my bare hands, ripped his still pumping heart from its home and ate it as he died in front of my eyes, yes: he was sweet!’
12:45 am
Saul walked out of the Drawing Room into the dark, stuffy corridor, the inane banter and joviality between Darrie and Buglass receding as he retreated to a safe enough distance not to be overheard. The flickering candlelight from the partly open door caressed the darkness in the corridor into penetrable shadows, which congregated around his person, consuming his abrupt features as he leant against the dusty wall. He took out his mobile, its screen chasing the shadows from his face as he dialled a number.
‘Hey Jess, I didn’t wake you did I?’ he asked gently, his features noticeably softening as the call was answered almost immediately.
‘No, just had a long luscious bath. I’m trying hard to relax! I didn’t expect to hear from you this early, have you told her already?’ asked the low sultry voice at the other end of the phone.
‘Not yet, I got a shout about ten minutes from home, possible murder so I’ve been at the Crime Scene for the past hour. I think she’s pissed off with me. I’ve had a dozen missed calls and about the same number of texts containing an escalating number of expletives.’
‘Oh John, that’s bad. Didn’t you call her and let her know?’ she asked reproachfully.
‘Yes, it went to voicemail, and I sent her a text. I’m not that callous. I am putting off speaking to her now.’ He said, sighing heavily. ‘I know I have to and more importantly, I really, really want to, but….’
She gently interrupted ‘I know how hard this is for you and I’m truly aware of everything that you will be sacrificing for me. If you aren’t one hundred percent sure, you do know I will understand that too, don’t you?’
His face broke into an obvious smile, casting circling shadows to flight as his eyes brightened. ‘I do, and I know you will be there for me and Jacob. I guess I just have to man up. This crime scene is looking a lot like someone playing silly buggers rather than a real murder, so I’ll be home in the next hour or so. I’ll give you a call after that. I had such a wonderful weekend and I cannot wait to be with you all the time. Love you baby.’
‘Et tu, my darling, Et tu,’ she finished.
He hung up, the smile immediately disappearing from his face. Still looking at his phone, he opened the last text message received, from Sarah and replied ‘Sorry, this should be wrapped up soon, see you in about an hour J x’. He lifted the phone pensively to his lips once he sent it and stared into flickering shadows for a few moments in silence.
As he leaned away from the wall, he heard a ripping sound as his jacket arm caught on a loose nail. He looked down to see a tear in the sleeve, which was also covered in dust. ‘Shit, there goes the deposit.’ he moaned as he walked back towards the Drawing Room, the banality of the conversations going on in there invading his ears once more.
‘Right.’ stated Saul, walking back into the room. ‘We’ve all got homes to go to tonight, so unless you can show me some compelling evidence that we have a fresh, bona fide murder to investigate, I suggest we wrap for this evening and let the day shift pick this one up. Darrie, have you seen anything more to suggest that this guy wasn’t already dead?’
‘Oh, I do like it when you are this forceful and direct, speaks to my submissive tendencies…’ Darrie started.
‘For fuck’s sake will you give it a rest! It’s getting very late and I am really not in the mood.’ cut in Saul. ‘Is there anything else?’ he finished abruptly, staring at Darrie in frustration.
Darrie postured and pulled a handbag face, but then answered calmly. ‘No, everything suggests that the cadaver has been dead for quite a while and placed here recently. It was definitely frozen after exhumation. The only thing, as we saw, was the slight scratch on the head which could be as the result of a knock and the stitching around the chest area which may or may not be to do with the autopsy. I
will know more once he’s back on the slab, but there is nothing that stands out for an urgent chase up. What’s more urgent, in my humble opinion, is that you find a sense of humour in that uptight arsehole you’ve got!’ he finished with a challenging smirk back at Saul.
Saul just sighed. ‘Harris, have you seen anything else significant at this stage?’
‘The significant things really are what’s absent to be honest. There are no finger prints on any of the surfaces, not one, anywhere: not even on the crate. Lord knows how anyone got that in here without leaving some kind of print. Even the candles and the fire which have only recently been lit have none. That suggests the room was cleaned thoroughly after the body was staged. I can confirm that the blood around the room is not human. It is some kind of animal and tests in the lab will tell us what. The only thing I have found that may be of any significance so far is what looks like a hair and some dried blood on the corner of the fireplace. It has been there a while and is human so we can do a trace on that. I’ve taken swabs and samples from the body too. I still have quite a bit of processing to do, but you can leave me doing that if Buglass is okay to hang around for an hour. I want to check out the main corridor and the entrances as well. After that I’ll get back to the lab to run DNA tests and try and work out who this guy is.’
‘Buglass, are you OK with that?’ asked Saul.
‘Yes that’s fine with me. I’m on shift until six anyway and will probably need to stay here until the day shift arrive. I’ll do another recce around the rest of the building, although there was nothing obvious first time.’
Just as Buglass finished his sentence, the Bakelite phone on the table started to ring, an old fashioned brring, brring. Buglass, who was closest to it, looked down at the phone, then up to Saul with a quizzical expression. ‘Should I get that?’ he asked.
‘Yes, get it!’ said Saul, obvious annoyance in his tone.
Buglass picked the ringing phone up and said ‘Hello.’ into the handset. He looked up at Saul again, surprised, holding the phone away from his ear. ‘It’s someone asking for you?’ he said, proffering the phone over to Saul.
‘For me?’ Saul asked, perplexed as he walked towards Buglass. He took the phone from him and said ‘Who is this?’ into the receiver.
‘Do I have your attention, Mr Saul.’ asked a male voice, clipped and precise in intonation into Saul’s ear.
‘Pardon, who is this?’ Saul reiterated. Harris and Darrie came closer to the phone too, picking up on the confusion in Saul’s tone.
‘Who I am is irrelevant. Why you are here is not irrelevant. Why the body is here is not irrelevant. Why the container is here is not irrelevant. So, I ask you again, do I have your attention Mr Saul?’ the voice reiterated, calm and measured.
‘You have my attention, what can I help you with?’ asked Saul while acting out a writing mime in the direction of Buglass and then mouthing ‘Take notes!’ to him silently once he finished the sentence.
‘I was really hoping you could help me Mr Saul. You see, I am in a bit of a predicament. I have certain information which relates to the murder of the gentleman lying on the floor in front of you, but have reason to believe that you will not act on that information willingly.’
Saul’s eyes were darting between the men in the room in front of him, a dozen questions visible in them all at once. He plumped for ‘Why don’t you think we would act on the information willingly. If this is a murder, any information you may have that could assist our enquiries would be invaluable.’
‘Oh it is most definitely a murder, it is just that someone has already been convicted and incarcerated for the crime. Unfortunately, it is the wrong person and a gross miscarriage of justice has taken place.’
Saul paused for a moment and put his hand over the receiver. ‘Buglass, are you getting this?’ he said quickly. Buglass nodded. ‘Darrie, can you quickly ring HQ, give them this address and see if they can get a trace on the call?’ Darrie nodded and backed off out of the room.
‘So, just to be clear in my mind. Did you set this scene up to attract our attention so that we would listen to the information you have?’
‘Just to be clear Mr Saul; I wanted to attract your attention, but yes, I set this up. I have it on good authority that you are an excellent detective, fastidious in the detail with an unwavering moral compass. I believe that while the information I have is important, if I were to simply visit the station and offer it openly, it would just be disregarded. To be honest, I do not have sufficient evidence to back up what I know. Now you, on the other hand, given the right encouragement, have the skills to be able to gather that evidence.’
‘Sir, I would like to inform you at this point that your actions in setting this scenario up could in themselves be considered a criminal act and may lead to prosecution, you are aware of that?’
A humorous, resonating laugh broke out of the phone, startling Saul to move the phone from his ear. Buglass and Harris heard it too, their expressions becoming even more bemused.
‘My dear, dear Mr Saul, please be assured that I fully understand the implications of my actions. Thank you for your candour in pointing them out. Equally, I am also aware that you have sent one of your colleagues off to try and get a trace on this line, that rotund bumbling character with the sewer mind, Darrie I think you called him. Could you do me a favour please and switch the TV on? The remote control is next to the telephone. You only need to press the red on/off button at the top.’
Saul bent down and picked up the remote and did as requested. After a second, the blank screen burst into life and he found that he was looking at himself looking at the TV. Half the screen was taken up showing the room they were in. He turned and looked toward the bookcase, and his image on the screen did the same. The other half of the screen showed what appeared to be a blanket with an arm slightly visible. The aspect looked confined and the lighting was fairly low. Overlaid in the top corner of this part of the screen was a heart rate monitor, with a solitary rhythmic beep coming from the speakers of the TV.
‘On the left screen, Mr Saul, is a real time video stream of this room. I have been watching you since you arrived and know that you have already gathered a great deal of evidence that will be crucial in identifying our poor friend’s real killer. So yes, I know that Mr Darrie is currently calling Headquarters to ask them to put a trace on this line. It will do no good, but let him try.’
Saul had an agitated expression on his face as he looked between the TV, the bookcase, the body and the nonplussed expressions of his colleagues.
‘Sir, I don’t quite understand the necessity for these theatrics. Surely if you just give me the information you have we can see how it pertains to the murder. I’m not at all sure what you gain from this.’ Saul finished, casting an expressive arm in an arc taking in the room and looking directly into where he though the camera was.
‘Mr Saul, let me cut to the quick and get you focused on what you need to do. You are the detective. In this room, there are enough clues to allow you to progress your investigation. You have a body. You have a crime scene, and within a few hours you will have the identity of that body and who was convicted of killing him. From there, you will have all of the transcripts from the investigations and the subsequent trial. I am giving you most of this on a plate. My challenge to you is that I want you to bring the real murderer back to this room by midnight tonight.’
Saul looked from the TV back to the camera. He held his arms out in exasperation before he put the phone back to his ear. ‘Well, I am sure that we can start to look at the evidence we find in this room, but I think you are being unrealistic in your expectations of getting any conclusions in a day. There are processes to go through if new evidence is brought to light for previous convictions.’
‘I am well aware of that. That is why I mentioned earlier that you may need a little encouragement. Please take note of the image on the right side of the TV. That is a real time video feed as well. A real time video feed of
a real person. A real person currently ensconced in that container you see in front of you. Don’t worry, they are perfectly safe: for now. They are sedated and blissfully unaware of the predicament they are in. However, if you do not bring the real murderer into this room before midnight tonight, that will be a different matter entirely.’
Saul’s face fell, ‘Look, I’m sure if we talk through this, understand what information you have and see what we can…’ Saul was interrupted.
‘Mr Saul. I understand how the system works. You also need to be aware that the container in front of you is lined with Semtex. Do not attempt to open it, or it will explode. Do not try and disrupt the video stream coming from it or it will explode. Do not try to tamper with the casing in any way, shape or form or it will explode. Do I make myself clear?’
‘Crystal.’ rumbled Saul staring in anger at the bookcase.
‘Just so we are crystal, Mr Saul and you fully understand what I need from you.’ the voice continued, ‘If you do not bring the person responsible for his murder into this room before midnight tonight, the container will explode. Now Mr Saul, I ask you again, do I have your attention?’
1:30 am
The slightly wavering barrel of a gun appeared through the frame of an open door, pointing towards Saul’s head. As it moved forward, slim, elegant fingers with immaculately manicured and painted nails came into view wrapped around the handle. The index finger was wavering over the trigger, its false nail missing, underneath, the real one bitten back to the skin which was red raw and angry. Not quite as angry as she was.
‘Bastard!’ she slurred and pulled the trigger.
