The Doll's House

by Tania Carver

  She got out of the car, locked it, looked round. A Prius was parked one house down. Marina drove a Prius, Anni knew. Identical to the one parked there. She walked over, looked inside. Baby seat. That was Marina’s.

  She walked back over to Gwilym’s house, went up the path, rang the doorbell. Waited.

  Nothing.

  Rang it again.

  The house was in darkness, the curtains still open. She had a feeling no one was home. She walked to the front window and, making a visor from her cupped hands, peered in.

  ‘Shit…’

  There was a body on the living room floor. Male, middle-aged. Wearing a dressing gown and little else. A blood halo around his head.

  She ran back to her car, opened the boot. She kept a crowbar there for just such emergencies. She ran back to the front door, smashed in a pane of glass, put her hand in, turned the lock. She was in.

  Straight into the living room, straight to the body. Her phone was in her hand ready to call an ambulance. She knelt down beside the prone man. Reached out and gingerly moved his head.

  He groaned.

  ‘It’s OK,’ she said, ‘I’m a police officer.’

  He groaned again.

  ‘Don’t try to talk or move. You’ve got a head injury. I’m going to call an ambulance.’

  ‘No…’

  His hand came up, grabbed her arm. There was a surprising amount of strength in the grip.

  ‘No… ambulance…’ He shook his head to emphasise the point. The movement caused him pain, making him lie back down once more.

  ‘Try not to move,’ said Anni. ‘Your skull might be fractured. You need medical help.’ She looked at him again. She had a fair idea who he was now.

  ‘No.’ He gasped as he spoke. ‘No ambulance. No hospital.’ More gasping. ‘No police.’

  ‘Too late for that, mate,’ she said.

  He groaned once more.

  ‘Who did this, d’you know?’

  He started to shake his head again, but remembering how much it hurt, stopped. ‘Can’t… can’t say…’

  ‘Can’t? Or won’t?’

  He didn’t reply.

  ‘You’re Hugo Gwilym, aren’t you?’

  He smiled at that. ‘D’you… d’you want an autograph?’

  He’s everything Marina said he was, she thought. ‘No, you’re all right,’ she said. ‘Just trying to make an identification. Can you please tell me who did this? Let’s start from there.’

  ‘No. Can’t.’

  ‘I’m police.’

  ‘No… don’t want police…’

  ‘Not your decision to make.’ Anni looked round the room, listened. They were definitely the only people there. ‘Where’s Marina? Marina Esposito?’

  ‘I don’t… don’t know…’

  ‘Was she here?’

  ‘Marina? Don’t know… Has she been here? Was she supposed to be here?’

  ‘Yes, she was. Did she do this to you?’ I wouldn’t blame her if she had done.

  ‘No…’

  ‘What happened, then?’

  Gwilym rolled over on his side, away from Anni. His hands came up and covered his head. ‘Please, just leave me alone…’

  Anni stood up, looked round. Tried to think what to do next. She took her phone out, called Marina. Nothing. Voicemail. She left a message saying where she was and who she was with and to call her as soon as possible. As she ended the call, she had a feeling that something bad had happened. Something had gone very wrong.

  Gwilym groaned. ‘Will you go now, please? Just… leave me alone…’

  Anni didn’t even bother to reply. She had to do something, take some kind of action. She thought. Then, mind made up, she took out her phone again.

  She would call Phil.

  88

  T

  he weather hadn’t kept people away. The German market was in full swing now that daylight had gone and darkness had fallen. The place had looked like a shanty town of wooden huts in the grey day. Now, all lit up, it made the area look festive and Christmassy. The mulled wine and beer stalls came into their own, as did the sausage stalls. People looked happy as they moved round the place.

  All except Nadish Khan. He sat on the same bench he had occupied earlier. Stared down at his feet. He was cold and wet, tired and miserable. He felt like his life couldn’t get any worse.

  Ron Parsons sat down next to him. And Khan felt like his life just got worse.

  ‘I want you to know,’ Khan said, not looking up, addressing his shoes and his clenched fingers, ‘that I’m doing this for my mum.’

  ‘Whatever works for you, son.’ Parsons lit a cigarette. Khan flinched from the smoke.

  ‘It’s not for me. I’m not my dad. Not like him at all. I’m better than that.’

  ‘Course you are, son. Now what’s happening?’

  Khan told him. The killing of Scott Sheriff, the discovery of the body. Blaming him for the murder of Glenn McGowan and Keith and Kelly Burkiss. Then Trotter’s statement about the club. And the subsequent discovery of ownership. Finished, he sat back. He felt exhausted. Like he was a Catholic who had just undergone a long and arduous confession.

  ‘Right,’ said Parsons. ‘You’d better deal with it, then.’

  Khan stared at him. ‘What? What d’you mean, I’d better deal with it?’

  ‘What I say.’

  ‘But…’ Khan looked away. Saw the shadow of the bearded, plaid-shirted henchman lurking behind him. Looked back at Parsons. ‘I told you. I found a connection between Burkiss and this university bloke. I’ve told them to work on that angle, forget the club.’

  ‘You’d best make sure they do, then.’

  ‘But…’ Khan couldn’t believe he was hearing this. In his mind, this wasn’t how it should go. He would tell Parsons what he wanted to know, take the money, and that would be that. Not this. Not at all. ‘What can I do? I’ve told you what’s happening. I’ve warned you. That was what we agreed. That was my part of the deal. I’m finished.’

  He stood up. The bearded henchman moved closer. Towered over him.

  ‘Sit down,’ said Parsons.

  Khan remained standing.

  ‘D’you want me to make you?’ Parsons looked up at him. And for the first time Khan saw in the other man’s eyes what must have made him such a feared gangster in his time. That mixture of anger, madness and the anticipation and uncaring consequence of violent action. It was still there.

  Khan sat down.

  ‘That’s better.’ Parsons put his cigarette beneath the sole of his shoe. Ground it out. He turned to Khan. ‘Now. The investigation is still ongoing. I don’t want it to look at that club. Understand? And it’s your job to make sure it doesn’t.’

  ‘That wasn’t what we agreed.’

  ‘It was what I agreed. You do your part, you get paid.’

  ‘I want my money. My mother’s money. I’ve done my part. That was the deal.’

  Parsons shrugged. ‘Only deal you’re going to get is the one I just offered you.’

  Khan stared ahead once more. His heart was hammering in his chest. Everything around him was brightly lit and coloured. People going about their lives. Enjoying their lives. But not him. He was presiding over what felt like the end of his. Or at least his career. His dreams. Everything he had believed in or wanted for himself. He looked at his hands. They were shaking.

  He stood up.

  ‘Sit down,’ said Parsons.

  ‘Fuck you,’ said Khan.

  ‘Sit down.’ Louder this time, with much more menace.

  ‘No,’ said Khan. ‘That’s it. I’m not throwing away my career over a piece of shit like you. A piece of old shit. That’s the end. We’re finished.’

  ‘We are not finished…’ Parsons was nearly shouting. He stared at Khan, the full beam of his mad, angry eyes on him. ‘We are finished when I say so.’

  ‘I think you’ll find,’ said a voice from behind them, ‘that you’re finished when I say so.’

 
They turned. There stood Ian Sperring.

  89

  M

  arina could see nothing. Feel nothing. The blindfold was tight, the restraints on her wrists even tighter.

  She had no idea where she was. She had been bundled into Ben’s waiting car. He had held the knife at Maddy’s throat the whole time. Threatened to cut her if Marina didn’t co-operate. Marina had to swallow all her instincts and do as she was told. For Maddy’s sake. She knew what Ben was capable of. Gwilym’s body on the floor was proof.

  Maddy tied Marina up at knifepoint. Then Ben did the same to Maddy. Ben’s car was a 4x4. He put Maddy and Marina in the back, told them to lie down and covered them with something. Then he drove off. Marina tried to do that thing she had seen in films, where the captive remembers the route he’s been taken by all the noises on the way. That and a combination of measuring. Eight seconds, car turns right. Thirteen seconds, car stops. Probably at a junction. Listen: noise of a pedestrian crossing. Seventeen seconds, car goes forward. Then round a corner, probably left. She soon became confused, not being able to tell one distance from the next, one pedestrian crossing from another. And then Ben started playing music, which disorientated her even further.

  Eventually the car came to rest and Marina felt the blanket being pulled back. Hands grabbed her, hauled her from the car. Made her walk. She barely had any balance and was terrified. She couldn’t see, couldn’t hear and had no idea where she was being led. Eventually she came to a standstill and the hands disappeared.

  ‘Wait here,’ a voice said. Then laughed. ‘Like you’ve got a choice.’

  She heard a door close.

  Then nothing.

  ‘Maddy?’ Marina’s voice was small, tentative. Just in case she was on her own. Or worse, left with Ben. ‘Maddy? You there?’

  ‘Yes…’ Maddy’s reply was equally tentative. ‘I’m here…’

  Marina felt relief at that. At least he’d kept them together. That was something.

  ‘Can you… can you see anything?’ she asked.

  ‘No. I’m still blindfolded. What about you?’

  ‘Nothing.’ Marina sighed. ‘Have you any idea where we are? Where he might have brought us?’

  ‘No, none. No idea. He’s… he’s not who I thought he was… Oh God, oh God…’

  Marina heard sobbing. She didn’t blame the girl, but she knew enough to know that crying wasn’t going to be helpful in getting them out of there. ‘Listen, Maddy, I know you’re upset. I know this is…’ She sighed again. ‘I know. But you’ve got… Listen to me… you’ve got to be stronger than that. We have to find a way out of here. We have to.’

  ‘I kn-know, but… but… it’s just… they never tell you, never prepare you, no one does…’

  ‘What d’you mean?’

  She spoke through her sobs. ‘When I started university, they g-gave us all a lecture about b-being raped. And they said stuff, you know: if someone grabs you, s-stamp on their instep, it b-breaks the little bones in their foot, and then run… or, or head-butt them, bridge of the nose if you can…’ She sighed. ‘N-never anything about this…’

  ‘No, Maddy, no one can give you a lecture warning you about something like this. But come on. We have to get out of here. We will get out of here.’ Marina hoped she sounded more confident than she felt. ‘Now listen to my voice, can you hear me?’

  ‘Y-yes…’

  ‘Good. Keep listening. And come towards me. Can you? Come on. Walk towards my voice.’

  She heard movement. Slow and tentative, matching Maddy’s voice when she had first spoken.

  ‘Good girl, good. Keep on coming… good…’

  She felt Maddy walk into her.

  ‘Oops. Good. You’re here. Well done. You made it. Now. We have to try and find a way out of these things. Can you do that?’

  Maddy started to cry again.

  ‘Maddy, please. Keep it together. Come on. We can do this. Now… I know your hands are behind your back, but feel your way round me until you’ve got your back to me. Can you do that?’

  ‘I’ll… Yes. I will.’

  Marina felt fingers on her waist. Small movements, like mouse footprints, as Maddy made her way round her, until she eventually reached the position Marina wanted.

  ‘OK. Good,’ said Marina. ‘Now. We don’t know how long we’ve got. So what I want you to do is try and find my wrists. The restraints, they’re leather and they’ve got buckles like a belt. I want you to feel where that buckle is on my wrists and undo it. Can you do that?’

  ‘I’ll… I’ll try…’

  ‘Good girl. Course you can.’ Marina felt hands on her wrists. Scrabbling fingers working at the restraints. ‘That’s it, you can do it…’

  She heard Maddy grunting with the effort.

  ‘You’re doing great. Keep going…’

  She didn’t know how long she stood there. It could have been seconds, minutes or hours. All she was aware of was Maddy’s fingers working on her wrists. Her fingers trying to get a purchase on the leather, pull it out, pull it through…

  Then nothing.

  ‘Maddy?’

  She heard sobbing again.

  ‘It’s no good, I… I can’t do it…’

  ‘Yes you can, Maddy. You can. You can do it. Now come on, try again…’

  She felt fingers on her wrists, then they were violently pulled away. ‘I can’t, it’s no good, I can’t…’

  Marina swallowed down her first response, which wasn’t very complimentary. Instead she kept herself calm, her voice steady. Shouting’s not going to help, she thought. Giving in to this isn’t going to help.

  ‘Come on, Maddy, try again. Or let me try on you…’

  Maddy pushed her wrists up against Marina’s. Marina tried to undo the clasp.

  She sighed. It wasn’t easy.

  But she had to keep trying. Because there was no alternative.

  90

  P

  arsons’s bodyguard moved forward when he heard Sperring speak.

  ‘Don’t, sunshine,’ said Sperring, holding up his warrant card. The bodyguard looked at Parsons and then at Sperring again. Backed down. ‘Clever boy.’ Sperring stepped in front of Parsons. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘what have we got going on here?’

  Khan couldn’t even bring his eyes up to meet his colleague’s.

  ‘Mr Sperring,’ said Parsons, as if greeting an old friend. ‘Been too long.’

  ‘Not long enough,’ said Sperring. He looked between Parsons and Khan. Eyes settling on Khan. He sighed, shook his head. ‘I thought better of you, Nadish. I really did.’ His voice held real sadness, genuine hurt.

  Khan looked away.

  ‘So you going to tell me what’s going on, then?’

  ‘It’s him,’ said Khan, jabbing his finger at Parsons, still not looking up. ‘He wanted… wanted to know about the investigation. What was happening, where we were looking.’

  Sperring stared at Parsons. ‘Did he now. And what did you tell him?’

  Khan sniffed. Sperring realised he was crying. ‘The…’ He sighed. ‘Everything.’ His voice had shrunk. ‘The club. The building. Who owns it, everything…’ He shook his head like he couldn’t believe those words were coming out of his mouth.

  ‘And what did Mr Parsons have to say to that?’

  ‘Look,’ said Parsons, ‘I’m sure this can all be settled —’

  ‘Shut it, you,’ said Sperring, with an angry look that almost matched Parsons’s of a few minutes ago. ‘I’ll deal with you in a minute.’ He turned back to Khan. ‘What did he say?’

  ‘He said to, to divert attention away from it… look somewhere else…’

  Parsons was on his feet, furious. ‘You little fucker…’

  Khan looked up. Eyes red-rimmed, pain-filled. Face contorted through tears and self-hatred. ‘He said he’d give my mum money… That’s why I said I’d do it. Since my dad…’ He didn’t finish the sentence. ‘It’s been really hard.’

  ‘And you believed him?
He said he’d give your mother money and you believed him?’

  Khan’s eyes couldn’t meet Sperring’s. ‘Yeah. Why not? He gave my dad enough.’

  Parsons was still on his feet. Sperring squared up to him. Stared straight at him. Their raised voices were attracting attention, but people gave them a wide berth. No one wanted their enjoyment of the evening to be tainted.

  ‘I hate bent coppers,’ said Sperring. ‘But you know what I hate more? The scum that bend them. You’re nicked, Parsons.’

  Hearing those words, the bearded bodyguard moved forward. Sperring turned to him. Smiled. There was no happiness in it. ‘You want to do this, son?’ he said. ‘Really?’

  The bodyguard stared at Sperring, unblinking. But something in Sperring’s gaze made him look away. He backed away again. Sperring nodded. ‘Good lad.’ He turned back to Parsons. ‘You’re a piece of shit. But you’re an old piece of shit. You wouldn’t survive going back inside, which is where I want to send you. Not for long. And while I might get some enjoyment out of that, I have to ask myself, is it worth it? All the time-consuming bollocks I’d have to go through. All the paperwork, compliance, building a case for the CPS, not to mention dragging young Nadish’s name through the shit.’ He stared at Khan. ‘Not that he doesn’t deserve it for what he’s done.’ He turned back to Parsons. ‘I’d enjoy seeing you rot in prison, make no mistake. Dying in prison, too. And don’t get me wrong, I’d do it, but it’s a lot of work. So.’ He stepped in nearer, so that Parsons had no choice but to look at him. ‘What can you tell me to make me change my mind?’

  Parsons cleared his throat. Sperring looked straight into his eyes. Saw that the old man was beaten and he knew it.

  Parsons sighed. ‘It’s… it’s about my son. All about my son.’

  ‘Who, Grant?’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Parsons. ‘Sort of. But mainly about Ben…’