by Robert White
There was indeed more to him than met the eye. He was a very deep soul.
He was handsome, yet humble, so strong and powerful, but gentle and kind. At that moment, she truly believed that David Stewart would indeed do anything for her.
The pair sat in front of the roaring log fire in the tiny bar. Doris made hot toddies. Dave looked into the eyes of his lover. Nothing was said. Nothing was required. Their eyes said it all
eight
McCauley sat in his car. The radio played Hotel California as he watched the BMW’s headlights approach.
The meeting with Holmes had been arranged on wasteland that had once been a power station. The river Ribble that ran black and silent under the March night bordered it.
The only traffic that used it now consisted of lovers and dog walkers.
Tonight though, it was the scene of much seedier business. Holmes’ car pulled alongside the Chief’s and both men alighted from their vehicles. Holmes was dressed casually but sported a sheepskin coat and matching gloves, against the night’s chill. McCauley considered he looked like a second-hand car salesman.
Holmes removed a glove and spoke, “Well, Detective Chief Superintendent, how are you on this fine night?”
McCauley looked up at the clear sky and then down to Holmes. “Cut the crap and get on with it.”
“OK. OK, no time for small-talk.” Holmes produced a thin file of photocopied documents, “I think you should take a look at these.”
The Chief took the file but didn’t examine the contents. Holmes looked hurt. “Aren’t you even curious John?”
The Detective, much to Holmes’ disgust looked positively bored.
“I already know what’s inside Holmes. What I don’t know is what you want.”
Holmes sneered. This was going to be easier than he thought. McCauley wasn’t such a tough guy after all. He was all bluster and no guts, just as he’d always thought.
“I want a letter, signed by you, stating that all charges against William Henry Bailey have been dropped due to insufficient evidence.”
The Chief started to laugh.
Holmes went for the big sell. “Laugh all you like John, but during my interviews with Bailey he was adamant that he was completely clean when arrested. I got suspicious when I first noticed that there was no hand-written statement from the arresting officer. A Probationary Constable I believe? Then, certain information came into my possession in the form of crime property register entries. The time the gloves were entered didn’t tally with the time of arrest. Finally, I checked the record of Bailey’s property entered by the charge office Sergeant at the time of his arrest. Oh the gloves appear on the record alright, but the handwriting is different than the rest of the sheet. Very sloppy work McCauley, even for you.”
Holmes was ready to close his sale. “I would lay odds Superintendent that should a barrister choose to give that young Constable, what’s his name? Stewart, a good grilling under oath or, better still, summons the charge office Sergeant to court, that the rats would desert a rapidly sinking ship. That would put you and your precious little team of followers in the deep smelly liquid wouldn’t it?”
The Chief took a deep breath and stifled a yawn. His words precise and measured; they came from a man still confident and assured.
“You’re forgetting something Holmes. The boy confessed all.”
The lawyer was straight in there.
“Duress. I personally witnessed one of your officers bang my clients head on the table. I think that may be enough to convince a judge, don’t you?”
McCauley turned and opened the door of his car. He lifted a brown envelope from the passenger seat and handed it to Holmes.
Holmes looked surprised. “What’s this?”
The Chief remained silent and simply gestured Holmes to open the package.
Holmes pulled back the flap on the envelope and removed the contents. Holmes felt a sharp pain in his chest. He fell back against his car. His heart was about to burst he was convinced of it. He felt himself start to sweat. His lips trembled.
“Oh my God!”
McCauley’s laugh started as a low chuckle and grew to a thunderous roar. Holmes could still hear his laughter as the Chief Superintendent drove away.
Holmes had been supremely confident. He’d had McCauley exactly where he wanted him, but now, my God now, he was a gibbering wreck. He sobbed uncontrollably. The drive home was harrowing. He was unable to tear his eyes from the envelope on the passenger seat. Every few seconds he looked across and sobbed some more.
Within twenty minutes, Holmes sat in his living room with the contents of the envelope on the coffee table.
He looked at each of the photographs in turn. Every shot was of him, committing sexual acts, with boys between the ages of 11 and 13.
Holmes’ closest friend, Alan Clarke, had taken the pictures one summer in Brighton. The two men had gone on a spree of picking up rent boys and partying the night away.
Alan had never been in trouble with the Police so how had McCauley come by the pictures? Would Alan betray him? No, not ever, they went too far back. Alan craved the innocents as much as anyone. He was part of the circle.
When had he last checked the pictures were safe?
God, there were hundreds and not just of him and Alan either. Holmes poured himself a drink and threw it down his throat. In a sudden burst of temper, he pushed the photographs from the table and onto the floor.
Who else knew where the pictures were hidden? Some little shit had done for him eh? Well, if they thought that Raymond Holmes was going to lie down so easy, they were mistaken. Holmes slurred his words as the drink took hold, “This show isn’t over yet McCauley.”
Billy looked at the house. Holmes was a rich bastard, all right, a BMW in the drive, a fancy house in a fancy street.
He still wore the suit that Ray had given him in the cell, although it was now crumpled and wet. He’d had a couple of hairy moments through the day. A Panda car had driven past him and the pig inside took a long look as Billy was going for his stash. He always kept a few quid to one side for moments just like this. When he was running.
He’d had a haircut and now sported a skinhead. That would fool some of the coppers but not all of them. Right now, he needed somewhere to rest up, get his shit together and some more cash.
The problem for Billy was he couldn’t think right now.
Every time he tried to think of a plan, Elsie May Townsend kept on interrupting him. Talking inside his head, wagging her finger like his old gran used to do, and telling him what a bad boy he was.
The little bitch that cut his hair kept on asking questions too.
“Where do you live? What do you do?”
Stupid.
Billy had considered fucking her, making her have it, but some old queen was snooping around in the back of the shop. Best not to. Billy had to go see his friend Ray. Ray always knew what to do.
Ray was pissed. He’d been plotting his revenge in the bottom of a brandy glass for two hours. So pissed in fact that he had picked up the photos and laid them out on the coffee table again, they began to arouse him. Ray’s sap was rising as he remembered the little sluts from Brighton.
There was one in particular. What was his name? Carl? No, Cliff? Yes, that boy was sweet. Slim young and willing, not too willing mind. Ray liked a little resistance. Without realising, Ray had started to rub his crotch. Yes, it was time for a little self-indulgence. Then he remembered that the curtains were still open.
Ray nearly shit himself. Standing outside the bay window was Billy and Billy didn’t look too good.
In a flash Ray was sober. He ran to the door and almost dragged Billy into the house. He took a quick look outside to check for nosy neighbours and closed the door.
Rays voice was frantic. His normal work tone lost to his almost soprano camp. “Billy what the fuck are you doing here?”
Billy was in a daze. His normally erect frame was hunched and tired.
&n
bsp; Billy was distant, “You know what to do Ray, you know what’s best.”
Ray’s mind was now running at full pelt, he was scared, but at the same time excited. His mind was working again. Say what you like about Ray Holmes, but he can think on his feet.
“Yes Billy, I always know what’s best for you. We can work everything out. Me and you Billy.”
Ray knew he was on dangerous ground, but his sexual urges always did get the better of him. He started to take Billy’s sodden jacket from his back. The shirt underneath was so wet Ray could see the youth’s nipples. Ray felt another telltale twinge in his crotch.
“First though you need to get warm, how about a nice hot bath? What do you say Billy eh?”
Billy looked past Ray. He was strangely vacant. It was a look Ray had never seen before and it disturbed him. Billy laughed as he spoke. It made him sound imbecilic.
“I know what you want. You want to play in the bath with me, don’t you Ray?”
“We could do that if you like Billy.”
Billy was a little old for Ray but their little meeting in the cell block had rejuvenated Ray’s interest. Their ‘arrangement’ had begun years earlier when Billy had been placed in the care of the Local Authority.
Ray’s friend Clarke ran the home. They both shared the same tastes and took great pleasure in showing the new boys the way to get on in their new environment.
No parent or co-worker had ever questioned the late night visits of a respected solicitor to the home. It had been, and still was, a very nice arrangement for Ray.
Ray stripped the young man and threw away the clothes. He made a mental note to get rid of them properly in the morning.
Billy lay back in the steaming bath surrounded by fragrant bubbles. It felt nice. He felt safe and warm.
Else May Townsend had gone to sleep.
Ray walked into the bathroom with clean dry clothes. “Feel better Billy?”
Billy dunked himself under the luxurious water. “Yes Ray, thanks. I knew you would help me.” He gestured with his thumb in the general direction of the street. “I was getting a bit scared out there.”
Ray frowned. In all the time he had known him he had never heard Billy admit that he was scared before. He was wary of the youth. Could he trust this boy? OK, he had known him for years, but the pictures had fallen into Police hands somehow. After all Billy had been under pressure in the nick. Had he sold him out for favours from McCauley? Maybe it was time for a test of character for the young lad.
“Does anyone know that you came here Billy?”
Billy smiled at Ray. “Nope!”
“Good lad. Now get yourself dry and we can get comfortable.”
Ray went downstairs to the living room and had one last look at the photos on the table before putting them away. The negatives had been with the Photographs. He had to find those negatives and any copies. Billy was just the man for the job.
Ray and Billy lay naked together on the sofa. A hardcore gay video played on the television. Billy was masturbating Ray furiously.
Ray stretched out his hand and rested it on Billy’s. “Steady boy, it’s going to be a long night.”
Outside in the avenue a car engine started and the vehicle slowly pulled away. The burley driver had seen enough for one night.
nine
Dave and Anne had spent the night exploring each other in the way that only new lovers do. After a massive breakfast, courtesy of the ever-jovial Doris, they took a walk to the lake. Spring was indeed on its way and the Lake District pleased all the senses.
Dave spread a car blanket on the grass and the couple sat. Anne pulled her knees up to her chest against the morning chill. The couple, who only days ago knew nothing of each other except a passing glance in a Police station, were now firm friends and passionate lovers.
Dave leaned against Anne and put his arm around her shoulders. He viewed the lake and gorged on its beauty. “Would it be too much to ask to stay here forever?”
Anne picked up a stone and tossed it lazily into the calm water.
“My parents used to bring me here as a child,” she said.
“They would drive through the night from London with me asleep in the car. We stayed in the same little guesthouse we’re in. It was a very simple time in my life. Effortless and uncomplicated. Nothing to worry about.”
She picked up another stone, throwing it further into the lake. “My father was dead against me joining the force. He thought it was no place for a woman.”
Anne became suddenly morose. “Maybe he was right.”
Dave held her a little tighter. She felt comforted as she listened to his deep voice in her ear. His hot breath warm on the nape of her neck.
“My fathers’ politics are just left of Arthur Scargill. He didn’t speak to me for weeks when I applied. He still hasn’t told his mates at the Miners Welfare what I do. I have to pretend to be in the army when I go and visit.”
Anne put her hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle. Dave shot her an icy glance.
“Sorry David I wasn’t making fun. It’s just that we both seem to be in the same boat. My dad still tells his colleagues that I’m taking a break from my studies before going on to the bar.”
Dave stood and walked the few feet to the water’s edge. “Just recently,” he began, “I’ve considered doing something else.
Anne looked puzzled but Dave pressed on.
“You know when you were taking about this guy who wouldn’t leave you alone?”
“Yes.”
“And you said that you had paid the price for your promotion?”
“I did.”
“Well, I think it could be some time before I pay for my mistake. Worse still, I think we both owe the same man.”
Anne demeanour changed completely. She stood and walked briskly to Dave. She pulled at his arm so violently that he nearly fell in the lake.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Dave looked her straight in the eye. “What I’m talking about is John McCauley.”
Anne lowered her head. She felt shame well up inside her. OK everyone makes mistakes but this? How could you explain it? She had been callous. She felt dirty, like a common prostitute.
“So you knew?”
“Not at first, but it doesn’t take a genius to work it out.”
Again, Dave didn’t mention his experience with the answer phone. Anne let the information sink in and then her mind went into overdrive. She forgot her shame instantly.
“He’s got you over a barrel with Bailey, hasn’t he?”
It was Dave’s turn to wonder how Anne had come by her information. He didn’t have to wonder long.
There was an edge to Anne’s voice.
“I was going over the file that morning when you came to the CID office. I couldn’t understand why there was no hand-written witness statement from you. I checked on the crime property register and I noticed a discrepancy on the time the gloves were booked in. I was too knackered to think about it. Until now that is.”
Dave took hold of Anne’s arms. “I had no choice Anne.”
“We all have a choice David. It all depends on our morals.”
Dave was immediately angry. “I don’t think you have any room to talk about morals. John McCauley has played you along for a lot longer than me. If the truth be told you have the financial backing to walk away.”
Anne shrugged off Dave’s grip. “Jesus David! Is that all you think about? There’s a lot more to life than money you know.”
“That’s easy for a girl living on a Chief Superintendent’s expense account to say. At least I’m not bending over for him.”
Dave regretted the remark the second it was said. It was too late. Anne slapped Dave across the face with more force than he thought possible. He lost his balance and had to take a step backward to steady himself. Unfortunately, the ground behind the young man was soft and he fell straight into the icy waters of Coniston Lake.
Anne screamed as Dave
disappeared under the water, his heavy coat dragging him toward the bottom. The banks of Lake Coniston are shear and the water black.
Anne removed her own coat and jumped into the lake. It was impossible to see. She dived down once and then again. She was now in blind panic, thrashing around grasping at nothing but ice cold water. Her own limbs were numb with cold. She knew Dave wouldn’t last much longer.
Then, in a fountain of spray Dave breached the surface not ten feet away.
“David! Oh my god David! I thought I’d lost you.”
The pair scrambled their way to the bank where Anne immediately threw her arms around the young man briefly pulling the pair under the water once again.
“Fuck me Anne,” Dave gasped.
“I’m so sorry baby,” Anne was kissing him now, “so sorry. I love you. God I love you.”
Dave couldn’t work out which was the biggest shock. Near death by drowning or Anne’s words. Using his considerable strength he lifted Anne from the icy lake. He recovered the blanket they had been sitting upon and wrapped it around Anne’s shivering shoulders.
He put his mouth to her ear. “You’re full of surprises, I’ll give you that.”
Anne looked toward him, covered in mud and slime, tears started. “It’s true David. I know I should know better but…”
Dave put a finger to her lips. “Should we risk losing something special just because the calendar says it’s too soon to feel the way we feel?”
Anne kissed his fingers tenderly. She wiped her tears and looked to him. “We?”
Dave held her tight. “Yes we.”
The lovers turned heads as they arrived back at the little guesthouse. Muddy, wet and shivering with cold, they shuffled inside, their shoes squelching with each step.
Having showered and warmed themselves by the open fire in their room, the pair sat in the small downstairs bar, discussing John McCauley.
