Gaslighting: A British Crime Thriller (Doc Powers & D.I. Carver Investigate Book 3)

by Will Patching

  ‘Yeah. Me and Smiffy are making fireworks again.’ He sniggered and continued explaining, no doubt responding to the worried frown she could feel forming on her lopsided face. ‘It’s perfectly safe! He’s a wiz when it comes to chemistry, and I have to research volatile chemicals for my A level. Don’t worry, Mum. I’m not planning to blow up my annex.’ He picked up the tray and before disappearing with his grandmother’s food, grinned at her, his eyes glinting like rock pools in the sun, disguising hidden depths. ‘Or maybe I’ll demolish this crappy old house… Though there’s plenty of other shit to blow up first. Hahaha!’

  Billy’s wild giggling faded, and then there was silence – not even the creak of floorboards as he mounted the stairs and made his way to his grandmother’s room.

  ***

  Doc pulled the vinyl cover back over the Weber grill, while Jack stood stock still, staring at him, speechless.

  ‘We’ll deal with this later, okay?’

  ‘Deal with it later?’ Jack finally found his voice – it erupted out of him. He could see his celebration rapidly turning into a nightmare. ‘Seriously? I’ve got guests about to arrive and you want to leave that crispy fried dog under wraps on your barbie? What the fuck is going on, Doc?’

  Doc placed both hands on Jack’s shoulders in an attempt to reassure him. ‘Let’s not spoil things, eh? We’ll have to use my old kettle barbecue and I’ll fire up the kitchen grill so we can get everything cooked in time. We’ll get the party out of the way, then we can talk about it. You’re staying over, so we’ll have all night to chat things through, if we need it.’

  Jack was not sure what he could read in his friend’s eyes, the usually sparkling brown was almost opaque, like there was a veil obscuring Doc’s thoughts, a reluctance to share what was going on in that oversized brain of his.

  ‘Talk to me, Doc! What aren’t you telling me?’ Jack shrugged Doc’s hands off and shook a finger in his face. ‘No more of this doctor patient confidentiality crap, either. You tell me. Now. Or I will redirect all my guests to the Pangbourne Arms for the afternoon, and get the local bobbies out here to get to the bottom of what’s happening.’

  ‘No, Jack. Calm down. Please.’

  Jack was not feeling at all calm. The premonition he had felt this morning, with that cat in a bin bag rustling in the wind, had affected him badly, and irrational though it was, he was seriously worried for Doc. An uneasy, swirling mass of fear roiled his insides, and the hairs on his neck and arms were rippling again. Although not superstitious or religious, Jack had great respect for gut feel, the mysterious subconscious workings of his mind.

  And today, for the first time he could recall, he felt an ominous and irrepressible sense that something terrible was going to happen to Doc – a sensation that was almost overwhelming.

  ‘Nah. This is all wrong. You aren’t taking it seriously enough. I was a bit hazy over the details of the crucified cat but I do remember another one of the Leech brothers’ childhood escapades. And that,’ his hand flew out, finger jabbing at the offending barbecue, ‘roasted canine corpse is not just someone messing with your mind. I want to call it in. Now.’

  ‘Stop.’

  Jack’s mobile phone was already in his hand, but Doc’s fingers were wrapped around his wrist, digging deep. Urgent. Jack twisted his hand down and away, breaking Doc’s grip, his tone fierce as he replied. ‘I’ve got mates in the Berkshire force who’ll be happy to–’

  ‘What’s going on? Jack? I could hear you shouting as I parked in the drive.’ Judy was framed by the patio doors, staring down at them, her face glowing red, either from anger or exertion. Probably anger, Jack decided, given what Doc had told him earlier. ‘Colin? Why are you two arguing? It’s not like you.’

  With Judy’s eyes shifting back and forth between them, Jack went to reply, but Doc’s fingers were once again on his arm, squeezing a subtle warning to keep quiet.

  ‘It’s nothing, sweetheart. The barbecue gas pipe’s leaking, so we’ll have to use the old one, that’s all. Jack’s worried it’ll ruin the day, but it’ll be fine.’

  Judy squinted at her husband, and Jack wondered if she had picked up on Doc’s unconvincing response.

  He sounds just like a guilty schoolboy, caught in the act…

  This was unusual for Doc. Jack concluded that his pal had been badly affected by today’s discoveries too. He jumped in, finally realising Doc’s concern was for Judy’s peace of mind rather than his own safety.

  ‘Sorry. It’s my fault. I’m a bit tense. That’s all.’

  ‘I heard you say you were going to call it in? Why? For a gas leak?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m really on edge. It’s a big day and I was upset that the grill was out of service. I don’t know what came over me, but I was thinking it had been tampered with. I dunno, like someone wants to sabotage my big day… As if!’ He chuckled and then said to Doc, ‘I’ll get the kettle barbie. It’s in the shed?’

  Doc sent an appreciative glance at him, nodded, then spoke to his wife.

  ‘How was Reading? Your hair looks fantastic. They do a good job in that salon.’ He rubbed his fingers through his own curly mop, adding, ‘Maybe I should’ve joined you. Anyway, we’ll get the barbecue lit – would you sort out the salads? They’re in the kitchen.’

  Several seconds ticked by as Judy scrutinised them both, sucking in her cheek, having a little chew on the flesh inside, mulling over the two liars who were loitering on her lawn. Her eyes narrowed, then she tossed her head, muttered something neither of them could hear, spun on her heels and vanished inside.

  ‘Well that went well.’ Jack let the irony colour his words as he pulled a face at Doc.

  ‘Mmm.’ Doc stared at the patio doors, lost in thought, then slapped his palm on Jack’s back. ‘Thanks for that. We’ll discuss everything tonight. I promise. No more secrets. Meanwhile, let’s try to forget about all this. Come on. We need to get the charcoal lit or your guests’ll be hungry. They’ll be arriving any minute now.’

  ***

  ‘Are you okay, Nana?’

  Billy placed the tray on the coffee table by his grandmother’s favourite armchair, positioned in the bay by the window overlooking the countryside to the front of the property. She was wrapped in a towelling robe and sat motionless, even as Billy approached with the food.

  Is she dead already?

  Her eyes were open, seemingly fixed on something, but Billy could not see anything outside other than trees, shrubs and green fields, with the track to his study room and dojo disappearing out of sight round the side. He leaned in to get a better look at her face, then waved a hand in front of her nose to see if she blinked.

  ‘I do miss him, you know.’

  Not dead. Just gaga.

  ‘Of course you do, Nana. I miss Gramps too, but you need to eat. Mum said you didn’t want any breakfast again today.’

  ‘Hmm?’ Nana was back in the room with Billy, her eyes tracking across his features as he crouched beside her. She stroked his cheek with the back of a frigid hand, and smiled at him, her thin lips almost disappearing. ‘You’re an angel… I don’t know what I’d do without you.’

  ‘Here. Eat.’ Billy shifted the tray to her lap and then sat cross-legged on the floor beside her. Although he could see the residue of powder on the food sparkling in the sunlight, he knew her long-sightedness would prevent her noticing the chemicals he had sprinkled atop his mother’s famous recipe. The first forkful made its brief but shaky journey to her mouth, and she mumbled in appreciation as she ate her first solid food for twenty-four hours. Billy encouraged her as he watched. ‘It’s nice and soft, Nana. Won’t hurt your teeth, and it’s easy to chew. How’re you feeling?’

  ‘Hungry.’

  Her voice was distant, and although Billy heard what she said, he chose to twist his reply for her benefit.

  ‘I’m not surprised you’re angry. She’s really horrible to you.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Another forkful crept into her mouth, and a li
ttle red sauce smeared her lips, then dribbled down her chin as she chewed.

  Billy wanted to smack her, to knock her head off. Old people were so useless. A waste of space. Oxygen thieves.

  ‘Mum was on about it again. This morning.’ Billy waited as Nana’s ancient brain whirred, doing battle with the drugs in her system, but could see she was unable to understand what he was implying. He enlightened her. ‘She wants to put you in Lakeside.’

  ‘Lakeside?’ Several fragments of chewed mince and pasta exploded from her mouth with the word. Nana became agitated, appalled at what Billy was telling her. ‘That geriatric home?’

  ‘Yup. Don’t tell her I told you, but she went and got all the information from them several weeks ago, not long after your first night-time accident.’

  Her whole body was quivering and the tray started to slide off her lap, but Billy grabbed it and placed it on the table before it crashed to the floor. He calculated that she’d had enough anyway.

  Enough LSD.

  Nana would go hungry for the rest of the day, but that was nothing new. Tears trickled from her eyes and she pushed them aside with an unsteady finger, her breath ragged.

  Was she panicking?

  ‘She wouldn’t dare. This is my house!’

  ‘Yeah, but she doesn’t think so. She told me all about how you and Gramps managed to afford this place.’

  Billy took her palm in his as she gazed down at him, and she stroked his hair with her other hand. It was their little ritual, developed over the years since Nana had started her decline, even before she chose to remain in her room, day in, day out.

  ‘Told you what, son? What do you mean?’

  ‘About the house. How you and Gramps got the money to buy it.’

  Nana’s shaking became more pronounced, her head wobbling like a jelly trifle, her mouth sagging open, her jaw jerking in spasms as her distress amplified the movements prompted by the chemical additive Billy had used to ‘enhance’ her lunchtime experience.

  ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  Despite her drugged state, Billy could tell she was lying to him – she knew exactly what he meant. As he thought it, a familiar epithet echoed in his head…

  His uncle Peter’s voice, growling at him:

  Everybody lies, my son.

  ‘When Mum was my age, she was raped, wasn’t she? At least, that’s what she said.’

  ‘She told you that? Why would she do that?’

  ‘She was drunk. She’s always drunk. She tells me all sorts of stuff when she’s had a few.’

  ‘I don’t know what’s got into her. It’s as if she absorbed some evil from the terrible things that were done to her that night.’ Nana’s hand was no longer caressing Billy’s hair, but was now clutching her robe beneath her neck, scrunching the material. The fingers of her other hand were holding the gold crucifix at her neck, as if it would somehow ward off the malevolent presence she could sense in the room with them.

  No chance of that, Billy decided.

  ‘Is it true then?’ He knew it was, but wanted to play her a little longer, enjoying the sensation of power over her as she vibrated with fear at the prospect of being dumped in a care home. In another ten minutes or so, she would start having visions, hallucinations, and Billy would leave her to those, but would enjoy planting a few thoughts in her mind before he did so. ‘Was she raped? By my dad? Before they hooked up together?’

  ‘We don’t really know, son.’

  ‘And he blamed his brother, my uncle for it – that’s right, isn’t it?’

  ‘Oh, Billy, it was so long ago, I don’t recall precisely…’

  Everybody lies.

  ‘Let me tell you what else she told me, Nana. She insisted I shouldn’t, so don’t let on that I said anything about it. Okay?’ Billy raised himself on to his knees, put his lips to her ear and injected another dose of poison into her increasingly fevered, fragile mind.

  ***

  Judy had a good view of Colin and Jack undertaking their man-bonding ritual involving fire, charcoal and raw slabs of meat, and let her mind roam over what she had heard as she arrived back from her trip into town. There was no doubt they were hiding something from her.

  Again.

  Judy cursed under her breath as she ripped open another bag of pre-packaged salad and arranged the leaves in a bowl before adding her own magic touch – a handful of pumpkin seeds. One day, she would learn to cook properly, but not until she had good reason.

  I may just have one now, though.

  She let the thought linger as she looked up at her husband again, wondering what he and his pal were talking about. Another one of Jack Carver’s bloody cases, she assumed, their heads together, faces overly serious as they poked and prodded at the grilling meat.

  Doc had been her saviour, had dragged her back from the precipice when she was ready to give it all up. Losing her son, Josh, and her mother, not so many years after her only brother and father had died, left her desolate, depressed.

  Suicidal.

  For a while, surrounding herself with those less fortunate had seemed to be the best way to deal with her overwhelming loss, but now she knew that approach to dealing with her trauma had only made it worse. In the beginning, she had helped the homeless in London, having sold the home she’d loved as she could no longer stand being inside the place. It had been so full of love and the joys of life – her son’s life, her mother’s life, both snuffed out so easily.

  So wickedly.

  The tethers that bound her to a normal existence had been severed and cast adrift, along with her soul.

  Her vision blurred as the film of tears slipped across her eyes yet again, but she was determined not to indulge in weeping for her loss today. Her hormones were the problem, of that she was certain. She would never allow herself to get so low again.

  Running away from Colin had been a mistake too. While wallowing in misery, giving most of her money to those who had nothing – the homeless, the destitute poor – she had cut herself off from her past, hoping to forget by distancing herself from anything that reminded her of Josh or Mum. Including Colin.

  When Carver had tracked her down and approached her while she was working in a homeless outreach centre, serving soup during one freezing mid-winter’s night, she freaked out. Instead of welcoming his words, his reassurance that Colin was there for her, that she had a man who loved her, who would help her recover, she had run away to France.

  Did she love Colin?

  Sometimes she felt sure she did. Even before fleeing from him. But losing Josh left such a hole in her heart she could not believe she would ever feel anything but numbness there again.

  The squalor and filth, the sense of hopelessness in the refugee camps around Calais and Paris, had driven her depression to even greater depths. Until she could stand it no more.

  When she finally woke in that Parisian hospital, the very first thing she saw was Colin’s relieved smile, beaming down at her. At first, she thought she was dead, in some weird place between heaven and hell, their spirits meeting before she was condemned to the latter. Her Catholic upbringing had instilled in her the belief that suicide meant she would spend eternity being punished by the devil, but before jumping from that bridge into the murky depths of the River Seine, she was convinced it could be no worse than the torment she was enduring on earth.

  Yet, while lying there, believing she was dead, looking up at his lovely face, backlit by a white glow, almost giving his head a halo, she had finally realised how much she wanted to be with him.

  Over the next ten months, they stayed in France and he nursed her back to sanity, and she agreed to marry him and live in England again.

  Happily ever after.

  Only she was not.

  Beneath the veneer she presented to the world, she still harboured suicidal thoughts. Had come close to overdosing several times, but on each occasion, that vision of Colin, wearing a halo like he was her guardian angel, had returned and pulled her bac
k from the brink. She tried to maintain an air of normality, but it was hard, and he did his best to protect her from anything that might upset her.

  Like today.

  What he didn’t realise was how much that upset her. She wanted to be Judy again. To be the confident, resilient professional woman she had been before her life disintegrated – all thanks to a criminal she had a hand in letting out of prison on parole…

  As did Colin.

  He came up behind her and she felt his arms wrap around her as he kissed her neck, audibly breathing in her scent.

  ‘Are you okay, sweetheart? You seem so lost in thought. I need to get the grill going, as that old kettle barbecue’s too small, we’ll never feed everyone with that.’

  The doorbell rang as he spoke. The first guests had arrived.

  Judy turned to him and pecked his cheek, said, ‘I’ll get that,’ then slipped out of his arms before he could read what was in her eyes.

  The short walk to the door had her wondering whether she should tell him today. Although part of her wanted to be a mother again, to feel a new life growing inside her, another aspect of her damaged psyche viewed the prospect with horror.

  How could she bring another beautiful baby into this world, one so infested with evil and rife with unspeakable deeds?

  And how would she cope if she were to lose another child? Could she even bear to see a little one battling an illness, to nurse the child back to health, all the time thinking of her son’s suffering before he died? It all seemed too difficult. Impossible, in fact. Yet Colin had been adamant that they should start a family.

  Although she had agreed, just to keep him happy, she had continued taking contraceptive pills without his knowledge.

  That deception had been her guilty secret, but now she had a far more significant one. Thinking about her options made her vision smear with the hint of tears again as she stood at the door, her hand clutching the latch while the bell chimed a second time.