by Tania Carver
‘So did Keith Burkiss.’
‘Yeah, but Glenn McGowan didn’t.’ Phil thought for a moment. ‘Well, maybe a mental illness. But as I see it, those suffering from terminal illness just want to get some control back over their lives. The illness has taken it away. And these things have to be regulated. If not, what have you got? Harold Shipman.’
‘I completely agree with you,’ said Cotter.
‘But it’s not just about that,’ said Phil. ‘Not just about killing people. What about Martin Trotter? Infecting people with AIDS?’
‘Well again,’ said Cotter, ‘he said they wanted to be infected. It was consensual.’
‘I know,’ said Phil, ‘I mean, God knows why, but who’s going to pay for their care when they’re too ill to look after themselves? We are.’
‘But then who already pays for alcoholics and the obese?’ asked Cotter. ‘We do. They do that to themselves. We can’t stop this from happening just by closing down one club.’
‘Yeah, yeah, I know,’ said Phil. He rubbed his face. ‘Everything’s fucked. The system’s fucked. But let’s do our bit to try and stop one little part of it.’
‘We will,’ said Cotter. ‘But let’s do it properly.’
The conversation over, Phil got up and left.
He had a sudden, overwhelming need to talk to Marina.
83
B
en stopped moving, knife still in hand. Stood suspended animation-still. Like all his senses were heightened.
The doorbell rang again.
Maddy looked between the door and Ben. This was her chance. Her only chance. Run.
Ben came out of his trance, saw what she was doing. He grabbed her, fingers digging into her arms like metal claws, stopping her moving. The knife at her throat, his mouth at her ear.
‘Don’t.’ Snake-hissed.
She didn’t move.
‘Don’t move, don’t scream. Don’t do anything.’
She felt the blade on her skin. Like a razor of ice.
The doorbell rang again.
Maddy found her voice. ‘You’re… you’re going to do it anyway, aren’t you? Cut me. What, what difference does it make when you do it?’
His hand moved from her arm, clamped down hard on her mouth.
‘Look.’ A voice through the door. Muffled but familiar. ‘I know you’re in there, don’t pretend. I saw you both go in.’
Maddy felt Ben stiffen as the voice spoke, his breathing increase. He shifted from side to side. Deciding what to do next. He tightened his grip on her and, the knife still at her throat, pushed her forward. Out of the living room, down the hallway towards the door. He took his hand from her mouth.
‘Run!’ Maddy shouted. ‘Get the police! Run! Help me!’
Ben threw her to the floor. She didn’t have time to put her arms out, stop herself. She hit the stripped boards with a thud, the wind knocked from her lungs. She saw Ben throw open the front door and pull the person in, slamming the door shut behind him.
Maddy looked up. Ben held Marina Esposito at knifepoint.
‘Inside, now,’ he said. He pushed her along the hallway towards the living room, then bent to pull Maddy up from the floor. The knife was soon back at Maddy’s throat. Marina stood where she was, staring, eyes wide. ‘Now!’ shouted Ben. He pushed the knife hard against Maddy’s skin. ‘Or I cut her.’
Marina walked slowly towards the living room. Then stopped.
‘Oh my God…’
She had seen Hugo Gwilym lying on the floor.
Ben kept going, pushing Maddy, making Marina move backwards until they were all in the room. Marina was the first to speak.
‘So what did you intend to do?’ she said.
Maddy looked at her. She looked so calm, in control. But then she knew about Marina’s history. Everyone in the department did. She had faced down psychopaths before.
Ben didn’t reply.
‘Kill me,’ said Maddy. ‘He was going to kill me. Make it look like I did that to Gwilym, then make it look like I killed myself.’
‘A murder suicide,’ said Marina. ‘How original. And did you really think you’d get away with it?’ She moved in towards him. ‘Did you?’
‘Shut up! Shut up!’ Maddy could feel Ben’s ragged breathing against her neck, feel him tightening his grip on her. He was getting frantic. Out of control. Not a good sign.
‘It’s not particularly original, is it?’ Marina kept talking. ‘Look.’ Her voice was low, soothing. ‘Give me the knife, Ben. We can sort this whole thing out without anyone else getting hurt. Come on. Give me the knife.’
Marina stuck out her hand. Maddy looked at it. She isn’t as calm as she’s making out, she thought. Marina’s hand was shaking.
‘Come on, Ben. You’ve got to abandon that plan. You can’t do that now.’ She edged even further forward. ‘Come on. Give me the knife.’
Ben made a sound like a wounded animal. A scream of impotent rage. ‘Shut up! Shut up, you stupid fucking mouthy bitch, shut up! I’m thinking…’
‘Good,’ said Marina. ‘That’s good, Ben. Come to the right conclusion. You can’t do what you were going to do. It won’t work. And you won’t get away with it. Now come on…’
Maddy was aware of his head jerking up suddenly. She heard him bark a laugh in her ear.
‘No,’ he said, ‘you’re right. You’re right.’ She was aware of him nodding his head. ‘I can’t do what I planned to do. No. You’re right.’
‘That’s good,’ said Marina. ‘That’s very sensible. Now, just give me the knife…’
‘I’ve got a better idea,’ said Ben. ‘See what you think of this. Maddy comes in, hits Gwilym, leaves him lying there. Why? Because she’s found him with his lover, that’s why. His older, married lover…’ He gave another bark of laughter. ‘So she smacks him one, and before she kills herself, know what she does?’
He took the knife away from Maddy’s throat, pointed it at Marina.
‘She kills you. Perfect.’
Then Marina’s phone rang.
84
P
hil was standing outside the station, sheltering from the rain under a tiled porchway, not keeping noticeably drier. He had turned the collar of his jacket up, pulled it in. He didn’t know why people did that. It didn’t keep the rain off or make you any warmer. Maybe it was just one of those things you did so you felt you were doing something positive. Being in control of things.
That thought sent him back to his conversation with Cotter.
He took his phone out, looked at it. No calls from Marina. He sighed, pressed her number.
It rang.
He waited.
He looked round. Down at the Bullring and New Street, the streets would be full of Christmas shoppers. Here, the only people who came along were those that had a reason. Going to the children’s hospital on the other side of the road, or the police station. Neither sounded like fun.
The phone was still ringing.
And ringing.
He heard Marina’s voice. ‘Hi, this is Marina Esposito. I’m sorry I can’t take your call right now…’
Should he leave a message? He took the phone away from his ear, ready to terminate the call. But something stopped him. He replaced it.
‘Hey, it’s me. I’m…’ He sighed. ‘I want to talk to you. Just, just give me a call. Bye.’ He was about to hang up but realised he had forgotten something important. ‘Love you.’
He ended the call. Pocketed the phone. Made his way back inside.
At least it was warm and dry in there. If nothing else.
85
‘
L
eave it,’ said Ben.
Marina’s hand had gone to her jeans pocket. She slowly removed the phone.
‘I said leave it…’
She looked at Ben, tried to keep her breathing steady, her hand still. She didn’t want him to see her shaking. Maddy seemed terrified, quite rightly, and Ben looked like he could lose it at any
second and go berserk. It was down to Marina to keep calm and, despite what she was feeling inside, take charge.
She slipped the phone out, looked at the display. Phil. That gave her an idea.
‘It’s my husband,’ she said. ‘Look.’ She held the phone out so he could see the display. ‘Phil. My husband. Detective Inspector Phil Brennan, to give him his full title.’
‘So?’ Ben was trying to look uninterested but Marina had noticed a stab of fear behind his eyes. ‘Why should I care what your husband does for a living?’
‘Because he’s been investigating Hugo Gwilym.’
Ben snorted. ‘Bullshit.’
The phone kept ringing. Marina raised her eyebrows. ‘Really? You don’t believe me?’ She held out the phone once more. ‘Ask him. Go on, ask him.’
Ben looked at the phone, back to her. She knew he was thinking about it, weighing the odds. She decided to keep talking.
Calm, be calm…
‘He knew I was coming here,’ she said. ‘To see Gwilym. I told him. Phil’s already been to see him once this weekend. Again, if you don’t believe me, ask him.’
Ben stared, breathing heavily. The phone kept ringing.
‘He knew what I was coming to see Gwilym about. Knew what he’d done. That’s why he’s calling. He knows what Gwilym’s like, what he’s capable of. That’s why he’s investigating him. That’s why I came round to talk to Maddy earlier.’ She switched her look from Ben to Maddy. ‘I said my husband was a police officer, didn’t I? I said he would help.’
Maddy nodded her head. Her throat moved against the knife. A trickle of blood ran down her neck. She gasped.
Marina tried to focus, concentrate. Don’t let this go any further.
‘So if I don’t answer, he’ll know something’s gone wrong.’
The phone stopped ringing. No one spoke. No one moved.
‘Bullshit,’ repeated Ben eventually.
‘Really? You think so?’
‘Absolute bullshit.’
Marina kept the phone in her outstretched hand. ‘You want to take that chance?’
Ben didn’t move.
‘Why don’t you call him back? See what he says?’
Ben moved his hand indecisively towards and away from Marina’s outstretched one. Wanting to take it, not wanting to take it, gasping, his face contorted, as if in pain. There was anger there, Marina noted, but also something else. Indecision. And fear.
‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Come on…’
Marina didn’t speak. She didn’t think the words had been directed at either her or Maddy.
‘Come on, Ben… Think, think… What would you do, eh? What would you do…’
Marina didn’t move.
‘Come on, help me here… help me…’
Marina barely breathed. Neither, she noticed, did Maddy.
Then Ben nodded, smiled, as if someone had given him wise advice. Or even told him a joke. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Yeah. Good idea.’
He looked straight at Marina, his grip tightening on Maddy’s throat.
‘I know what I’m doing,’ he said.
‘Come on, Ben,’ said Marina. ‘Don’t do anything stupid now. Anything you might regret.’
‘I’m not going to regret this. I know exactly where I’m going to take you, what I’m going to do with you. I know exactly what’s going to happen.’ He smiled. ‘Oh yes…’
Marina said nothing. She knew words could no longer reach him.
86
‘
B
oss? Can I have a word?’
Phil had just walked back inside when Elli approached him. She looked excited, empowered. Without waiting for him, she went over to her desk, sat down, clicked her mouse.
‘Here,’ she said. ‘I got curious about the DVDs.’
‘Glenn McGowan having sex in his living room,’ said Phil.
‘Aha,’ she said, holding up one finger. ‘That’s what I thought. That’s what we all thought. That’s what made me curious. Remember the discrepancies? The timing? When did he do this if he’d only just moved in?’
‘Yeah, I do.’
‘Well…’ She began pointing and clicking at the screen. ‘There’s a program I’ve been toying with. A bit of measuring software, gives dimensions to rooms. Handy for computer re-creations and virtual simulations of crime scenes. You can build up 3D models with it. If you know what you’re doing.’
More pointing, more clicking. The screen changed. A three-dimensional image of a room appeared.
‘Here we are. This is Glenn McGowan’s living room. I got a uniform to go and measure it for me. Now…’ Another point and click and the screen image changed. It showed another room. ‘This is the size of the room on the DVD.’ She pointed with her finger. ‘You can see that this wall is longer, this one shorter. The door comes in at a different point. And in photos of McGowan’s house, you can see into the hallway from this door. On the DVD you can’t. It’s blacked out.’
She looked up at him, eyes shining with her discovery.
‘So what does this tell us?’
She looked slightly deflated that he hadn’t worked it out. ‘That the DVDs were filmed in somewhere decorated identically to McGowan’s living room. In fact, I think it’s the other way round. McGowan’s living room was decorated to resemble this place.’
‘So the DVD was filmed a while before he turned up at the house?’
‘Yep. All our timeline questions answered. The DVD was filmed first. The house was decorated to look like this place.’
‘So where is this place?’
Elli smiled. ‘I can’t come up with all the answers. This club, maybe?’
‘Maybe,’ said Phil. ‘Thank you, Elli. Fantastic work.’
She beamed. ‘Thanks, boss.’
He didn’t have time to say anything more as Nadish Khan was waving him over. He looked pale and jittery, Phil thought; not surprising after the night he’d just had.
‘What you got for me?’ said Phil.
‘This,’ said Khan, pointing to his screen.
‘What’s that, then?’ asked Phil.
‘Well, I went back to looking through Keith Burkiss’s stuff.’
Phil noticed Khan glance across at Sperring, who seemed to not be listening. Studiously so.
‘I just thought, you know. Because before, I found that connection with Keith Burkiss and the guy he paid to kill him. And that might be the guy we found.’
‘Scott Sheriff, yes.’
‘Yeah. Well, I went back into those emails. And I found something else. Some from Hugo Gwilym.’
Phil leaned forward, interested now. ‘Go on.’
‘Well, as far as I can tell, it looks like Burkiss was helping Gwilym with research as well. Like Glenn McGowan was.’
‘That’s quite a coincidence.’
‘Yeah. What I thought. This deviant book he was doing.’
‘Deviant psychopathologies.’
‘Yeah. That one. Keith Burkiss was helping with the research.’
Phil frowned. ‘What was deviant about Keith Burkiss?’
‘That’s what I wondered,’ said Khan, a look of triumph on his face. ‘So I read through all the emails. And there’s one from Gwilym saying that he’s deviant through rage.’
‘Rage.’
‘Yeah, rage. There’s loads of emails like that, about how he wants to plan his own death, how he wants his ex-wife to get nothing, all of that. How the whole thing’s been done just to piss her off.’
‘He’d have himself killed just to piss her off?’
Khan pointed to the screen. ‘What it says here.’ He sat back. ‘Then other ones start appearing. Asking if he’s serious about what he’s saying. If he wants to go ahead with it. And Burkiss says yes. The emails end by saying “one of our representatives will be in touch”. What d’you think?’
‘Very interesting. But that would mean that Gwilym was the link, not this club.’
Something shone in Khan’s eyes that
Phil couldn’t read. ‘So it’s this Gwilym guy, yeah? Not the club or anything, anyone else?’ He swallowed hard. ‘Not Ron Parsons?’
‘Well, we’re keeping an open mind. But…’ Phil stood up. ‘Good work.’
Khan looked relieved. ‘Cheers, boss.’
Phil walked over to Imani’s desk. Tried to ignore the fact that Sperring had been eavesdropping and even now was scrutinising Khan.
‘I’ve found out who owns the building,’ said Imani. ‘The one the club’s in.’
Phil looked at her. The DC’s face was a mess. Her eyes were swelling, bruising underneath. Her nose was heavily plastered. ‘You should be at home,’ he said.
‘Haven’t got time for that,’ she said. ‘Look.’
Phil looked.
‘They’ve tried to cover it up, but if you know where to look, it’s easy.’
‘And how do you know where to look?’
‘A hunch. After Parsons tried to hide the ownership of McGowan’s house, I thought he should be the first one to look at. Or rather the same company, Shield Holdings.’
‘And they’re the owners?’
‘Yep. Hidden, but not unfindable. If you know what you’re looking for.’
‘So Parsons is involved.’
‘There’s a few names listed as directors, not just him. Cheryl Parsons, that’ll be the current Mrs Parsons, I think, and Grant Parsons.’ She looked up. ‘That’s his son, right?’
‘Grant, yeah. Son of Parsons. Wasn’t that his name?’
They kept talking. At the next desk along, Nadish Khan quietly picked up his mobile, sent a text. Waited. The reply was swift. He sighed, looked round again to see he wasn’t being observed, sent another. Waited. Again the reply wasn’t long in coming. With a heavy, resigned look on his face, Khan stood up and made his way to the door.
Phil, talking to Imani, hadn’t noticed him leaving.
But Sperring had. He got up from his seat. And, at a distance, followed him.
87
H
ugo Gwilym’s house was in darkness when Anni Hepburn drove up and parked outside it. The winter night had cut in cold and black, the roads crammed with pre-Christmas shoppers seemingly stocking up for the apocalypse. It had taken her far longer to drive than she had thought it would and she was just relieved to reach her destination. But something, she felt, wasn’t right.
