The Doll's House

by Tania Carver

  ‘Anyway,’ said Parsons, ‘he got better. Or started to. But there was something… not right. He wasn’t the same any more. Like part of him had died along with Ben.’ He looked embarrassed that he had actually said that. He continued. ‘But he wanted to do something, move on. So he set himself up in business.’

  ‘You didn’t want him to take over your empire?’

  ‘He wasn’t like that. He… he said some bloke at university, some professor or something that he’d worked with, gave him the idea. Deviant personalities, he said. To be honest, I didn’t have a clue what he was on about. But he said there was money in it. And that I did know about.’

  ‘What did he mean?’

  ‘He said he’d been doing his research and found a gap in the market. I mean, he already hung about in some dodgy clubs. Never told me what he got up to, but said it put him in touch with a potential clientele. So he worked from that.’

  ‘Doing what?’

  Parsons frowned. ‘Well… say you want to… I mean, he was dealing with extremes here. Real extremes.’

  ‘Deviants.’

  ‘Yeah. Exactly. So. Say you had some fantasy that you wanted to act out. Like, I dunno, kill someone. He’d find someone who wanted to be killed. Put you together.’

  ‘What?’ said Sperring. His mind was racing. Glenn McGowan and Keith Burkiss running round in his mind. ‘He would put them together?’

  ‘Yeah. Like some sick internet dating site. That kind of thing. Look, I might think they’re sick and you might think they’re sick, but bottom line? There was money in it. That’s why he started the club. Give them somewhere to meet. Mingle.’

  ‘So how did he find this clientele? You can’t put an ad in the Birmingham Mail. Where did they come from?’

  ‘All over the place. He started with the university thing. That professor and his deviant book. He contacted the people he’d interviewed for it, the extreme ones. Asked if they were serious or just all talk. And if they were serious, he told them he could set it up. For a price.’

  Sperring thought about Keith Burkiss again, the emails. The payments. He imagined that Glenn McGowan had had a similar arrangement. ‘What about the house for Glenn McGowan?’

  Parsons sighed. ‘That was a mistake, but I didn’t find out till afterwards. He used one of our houses. That was dangerous. It could be traced. I tried to cover it up, got Cheryl to make a paper trail. But it didn’t work. Then I tried damage limitation.’ He pointed at Khan, who refused to look at him. ‘But I started too late.’ Another sigh. ‘So now I’m here.’

  ‘So who killed Glenn McGowan?’ asked Sperring.

  Parsons shrugged. ‘Just some wannabe serial killer who fancied himself. Sad little bastard living out his dream.’

  ‘And this sad little bastard, did you kill him?’

  Parsons gave a look of mock-effrontery. ‘What, me? You should know better than to ask me that, Mr Sperring.’

  ‘OK then,’ said Sperring, hands on the table, attempting a tolerance he wasn’t feeling. ‘Let’s put it hypothetically. Could you imagine why somebody might want to kill him?’

  ‘Well, speaking hypothetically, Mr Sperring, and this is only guesswork, of course, I would say that because he was a sad little no-hoper and a bit incompetent, he must have messed up.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Well, again hypothetically, if he was given a job to do, like, say, kill some legless bloke, then that’s what he should have done. Left it at that. Not gone berserk and killed his wife as well. Made him unstable. A liability. And with a liability, you have to make an executive decision. Get rid of him.’ He shrugged, a cunning look in his eyes. ‘Hypothetically, of course.’

  Sperring stared at him, face professionally impassive. ‘So where’s your son now?’

  Parsons shrugged again. ‘No idea. And if I had, I wouldn’t tell you.’

  ‘Is he at this club?’

  ‘No idea.’

  Sperring stood up. ‘Let’s go and see, shall we?’

  Seeing Sperring’s movement, Khan looked up. ‘What… what are we doing?’

  ‘I don’t know about you,’ said Sperring, ‘but I’m tracking down a killer.’

  Khan looked at Parsons, back to Sperring. ‘What about him?’

  ‘What about him?’

  ‘If we leave him, he’ll warn his son.’

  ‘Then we bring him with us,’ said Sperring. ‘Or have him arrested and taken to the station.’

  Khan looked away. Sperring understood. ‘Oh, I see. When you said what are we going to do about him, what you really meant was “what are we going to do about me”? Am I right? If I take him in, he’ll stitch you up.’

  Khan nodded.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Sperring, looking at his junior officer with distaste. ‘So. What are we going to do?’

  95

  ‘

  H

  is name was Parsons,’ said Gwilym. ‘Look under P for Parsons.’

  They were in the psychology department’s offices at the university. Gwilym had phoned Joy Henry, described the youth and been given a name and told where to look for the file he was seeking.

  Gwilym had dressed in an old jumper and jeans and pulled on a woollen beanie to hide the congealed blood on his head. He looked, thought Phil, one step above a homeless person. And I hope, he thought, with understandable venom, that when I’ve finished with him, that’s what he’ll be.

  ‘Something wrong with your arms?’ said Phil. ‘You look.’

  Gwilym, opening the nearest filing cabinet, did so.

  ‘Here,’ he said eventually. He held out a file to Phil. Photo clipped to the top. ‘This is him.’

  Phil took the file. ‘Grant Parsons. That’s our boy.’ He scanned it briefly, closed it. He was about to speak to Anni, plan their next move, when his phone rang. He took it out, checked the display. Looked at Anni.

  ‘It’s Marina.’

  ‘Well, what are you waiting for? Answer it,’ she said.

  96

  ‘

  P

  hil?’

  She lay on the floor, her head on one side, the phone beneath her. It was the only way she could make the call. She had thought of putting it on speaker but thought that would attract attention.

  ‘Where are you? What’s happened?’

  She felt tears form in her eyes, just from hearing his voice.

  ‘I’m… I don’t know. I’ve… been taken somewhere. I can’t move. He bundled us into a car, tied us up, blindfolded us. I tried to work out where we were going, but… I don’t know.’

  ‘Who’s with you?’

  ‘Maddy Mingella. She’s a student. Her boyfriend, he went insane, he…’ She felt the tears would come if she kept talking.

  ‘Has he hurt you? Are you OK?’

  ‘No, he hasn’t hurt me. Not really. I’m OK. We’re both OK.’

  ‘Good.’ She heard him sighing with relief. Then there was a pause.

  ‘Hello?’ Marina felt a hysterical edge creeping into her voice.

  ‘I’m… I’m still here.’ She could tell from his voice that he was struggling not to cry too. ‘Listen, Gwilym said —’

  ‘Gwilym?’ A shudder passed through Marina. She felt like she was going to be sick. ‘Hugo Gwilym? Is he… still alive?’

  ‘Yeah. ’Fraid so.’

  ‘You’re… you’re with him now?’

  ‘Yeah. And Anni.’

  ‘Oh.’ Her heart was racing. She didn’t know what to say next.

  ‘Look,’ said Phil. ‘I know what happened.’

  ‘Oh.’ Marina felt the tears starting once more.

  ‘Gwilym told me everything. Sack of shit.’ Phil’s voice changed direction. She could imagine him addressing those words to Gwilym himself. Despite everything, that made her smile. ‘And you’ve got nothing to worry about. He didn’t rape you.’

  ‘He… didn’t?’

  ‘No. He didn’t. Didn’t touch you. He’s told me all about it.’

  ‘Then
why did he… did he make me…’

  ‘Because he’s a piece of shit. So that’s one less thing for you to worry about. You were lucky. But he’s not going to be.’

  Marina couldn’t help herself. The tears started.

  ‘Hey,’ said Phil, ‘come on. Don’t cry. I need you to help me. You’ll set me off too. And then neither of us’ll be any use. Come on.’

  She tried her best to sniff the tears away. ‘OK,’ she said, ‘OK… I’m fine now.’ She hoped he would believe her.

  ‘Right. Listen. We need Maddy’s help. What can she tell us about Grant Parsons?’

  Marina frowned. ‘Who?’

  ‘Grant Parsons. Her boyfriend. The one who’s taken you both.’

  ‘That’s not his name.’

  ‘It’s not? But Gwilym’s identified him as the guy who attacked him. I’ve got his photo here.’

  ‘No,’ said Marina. ‘His name’s Ben.’

  There was silence from the other end of the phone. Eventually Phil spoke. ‘Ben.’

  ‘Yes. That’s what he said his name was. That’s all we know him as.’

  Marina was aware of Phil’s heavy breathing down the phone. ‘Ask Maddy,’ he said, ‘whether Ben’s got a tattoo on his arm. Right forearm, inside.’

  She asked her. Word for word.

  ‘No,’ said Maddy, still restrained, still blindfolded, shaking her head. ‘Not a tattoo, no. He’s got a mark there, though. He told me it’s a… Well, he told me it was where he’d cut himself. Like self-harmed. But it’s all ridges and that. Red.’

  ‘Did you hear that?’ asked Marina.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Phil. ‘Like a brand, you mean?’

  ‘I… I don’t know…’

  ‘A burn?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Maddy, ‘like a burn.’

  ‘Jesus. Keep this line open. I’ll try to get back to the station, see if we can get a fix with the GPS. Then we —’

  The phone call was abruptly ended.

  97

  M

  arina looked up. Ben’s booted foot had been brought down on her phone.

  ‘You bitch…’

  She stared at him. She tried to sit up, bring herself upright. He planted his foot on her chest, pushed her down again. She hit the floor hard, the air huffing out of her. She looked slowly up at him once more. Rage, and viewing him from below, contorted his features.

  ‘Who were you talking to?’

  Marina didn’t answer.

  ‘I said who were you talking to?’ He sounded unstable, she thought. Like he was about to snap.

  Still she didn’t speak.

  ‘I said who…’ he kicked her, hard, in the ribs, ‘were…’ another kick, harder this time, ‘you…’ and another; she felt something crack, ‘talking to?’

  Marina tried to breathe deeply. It hurt. ‘My… my husband…’

  With a scream of rage he turned away from her. ‘Husband… husband… fuck, fuck…’

  Marina looked over at him. Tried to ignore the pain in her side. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘My husband. The police officer. He knows where I am.’

  ‘He can’t.’

  ‘He knows who you are too,’ she said, struggling to get breath back inside her body. ‘Grant.’

  His face contorted even further. ‘Grant? Fucking… Grant? I’m Ben. Ben. Not Grant.’

  ‘No,’ she said, voice as calm as she could make it, ‘you’re Grant. That’s who you are.’

  He shook his head violently enough to dislodge something. ‘No… I’m not. I’m Ben. Grant, Grant’s a… pussy. He’s weak. Nothing. A nobody. Everybody hates Grant.’ He gave a twisted approximation of a smile. ‘Everybody loves Ben. Everybody.’

  His raving had given her a way in. She pursued it. ‘But why?’ she said, trying once again to remain calm. ‘Why does everybody hate Grant? What’s he done wrong?’

  He knelt down beside her, his face right up against hers to emphasise his words. ‘He’s weak,’ he said slowly, an exasperated teacher explaining a simple point to even simpler children. ‘Weak. He’s nothing. What his father always said, always called him. Nothing. Nobody. Not like Ben. Ben was everything, Ben had it all. Grant… nothing.’

  ‘So you became Ben.’

  He nodded. ‘I am Ben.’

  ‘Good. Right. And he’s strong.’

  ‘He is.’

  ‘And he makes you feel strong.’

  ‘Yeah. Course he does. And everybody loves him.’ He pointed at Maddy, gave her a kick. ‘Even her. She loved him.’

  Maddy began to cry. Marina kept going. ‘Ben’s upset her,’ she said. ‘Made her cry.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘That’s not what you do to someone who loves you, is it? You do the opposite.’

  He staggered away from her, hands to his head. ‘Shut up, shut up…’

  ‘If you love someone —’

  He turned back to her, lifted her off the floor. Screamed into her face. ‘Shut up…’ Holding her head with one hand, he drew back his other, slapped her as hard as he could.

  The force of the blow almost dislocated her jaw. She had never known a slap like it. Her whole face stung as badly as if she had just put her head inside a wasps’ nest.

  He was calming down now. His breathing was returning to normal. Marina tried again. ‘Look, Ben,’ she said, ‘it doesn’t have to be like this. You could let us go. That’ll be the end of it. The longer you keep us here, the worse it gets for you.’ Her voice dropped, became warm, consoling. ‘Come on. Just let us go. You don’t have to do this. Be bigger than that. What d’you say?’

  Her only answer was a smile.

  ‘You’re letting us go?’ She knew he wasn’t.

  He crossed to the corner of the room, rummaged around, found what he was looking for, came back. Marina saw that he was holding a ball gag. A big one. A well-used one.

  ‘No… no…’

  He ignored her protestations, pulled her head up and pushed the ball into her mouth. She couldn’t breathe and tried to scream, her body going into involuntary panic. He pulled the gag tight round the back of her head, tied it.

  ‘There,’ he said, ‘that should shut you up.’

  She stared at him, wide-eyed, her heart hammering, thinking she would never get enough air into her body through her nose.

  ‘Now,’ he said, ‘I’ve decided what I’m going to do with you. Both of you. And you’re not going to enjoy it. But then you’re not meant to…’

  Marina stared at him. Her last weapon, her voice, her reason was gone. She was helpless.

  98

  ‘

  N

  o, no, no, no, no…’

  Phil stared at his phone, tried to call Marina back. Nothing.

  ‘Phil?’ It was Anni. ‘What happened?’

  ‘The line went dead. She…’ He sighed, ran his fingers through his hair, turned backwards and forwards as if looking for a way out. ‘It went dead. While she was talking.’

  ‘You think someone got to it?’

  ‘Ben. Or Grant. Or whoever he’s calling himself.’ Phil nodded. ‘Yeah. Him. Shit…’ He paced once more, feeling that familiar tightening in his chest. Not now… I don’t have time for it now…

  He kept hearing Marina’s voice, over and over in his head. He replayed the conversation, went back over everything. Tried to pick out something – anything – he could use to find her.

  ‘The club,’ he said aloud. ‘That’s where she must be. It’s the obvious place for him to take them. That’s where we look first.’

  ‘We?’ said Anni. ‘I’m off my patch here and you need to stand down.’

  He stopped pacing, turned and stared at her. ‘What?’

  ‘I said, you need to stand down.’ She swallowed. ‘Boss.’

  ‘Why? This bastard’s got my wife.’

  ‘Conflict of interest, that’s why,’ she said. ‘You know the rules.’

  Phil did know the rules. If an officer had a personal involvement in a case for whatever reason, he had
to stand aside and let someone impartial take over. He turned to Anni, nodded. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘You’re right. I should.’

  He still had his phone in his hand. He called Cotter.

  ‘Situation’s changed,’ he said when she picked up. ‘You know how you hoped whoever ran this club would pack up and leave to become someone else’s problem? Well, two things. That person is Grant Parsons, Ron Parsons’s son and he’s taken two hostages and holed up in there.’

  Silence on the line. Phil held his breath. After what seemed like an eternity, Cotter spoke.

  ‘I’ll get the helicopter in the air.’

  Phil let out a sigh of relief. ‘Thank you.’

  He brought her up to speed. ‘One of the hostages is Maddy Mingella. She’s a student who had the misfortune to get involved with both Gwilym and Grant Parsons. I don’t know who the other one is.’ He turned away from Anni so he couldn’t see her silent remonstration with him.

  ‘Make sure the helicopter’s got the thermal imaging equipment going,’ he added. ‘We’ll need Firearms in their ARVs and we need the operational support unit for numbers.’ He hung up, looked at Anni. ‘We’re good to go.’

  ‘I’ll deal with this one.’ Anni jerked a thumb at Gwilym. ‘What you doing? Go.’

  ‘I will,’ said Phil, keying numbers into his phone. ‘One more call. If I’m going in there to get them, I need someone with me I can trust.’

  99

  S

  perring was still sitting in the Boardroom of the Lost and Found, staring across the table at Ron Parsons and wondering what to do with him, when his phone rang.

  At first he ignored it; then he checked the display. When he saw who it was, he was definitely going to ignore it. Reluctantly, though, he decided to pick up.

  ‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘what d’you want?’

  ‘It’s me,’ said Phil.

  ‘I know. Your name came up. I can read, you know. What d’you want?’

  ‘Someone I can trust,’ said Phil. ‘On my side.’