Mourning the Little Dead

by Jane A. Adams

  ‘Are you glad it’s Joe?’ The question came out unbidden and she regretted it immediately.

  ‘What sort of a question is that? How can I be glad there’s any suggestion it was a police officer? Especially one with Joe’s rank. Look, Nomi, I didn’t like the man, but I don’t want to think anyone I’ve worked with could do something like that.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she apologized. ‘I don’t even know what made me say it.’

  ‘Of course you know.’ He had softened his tone but the irritation still showed. ‘You asked because you know we hated each other’s guts and I’ve never told you why.’

  ‘And will you tell me? Now, I mean. Alec, I know you’ve always held back because you know how I feel about him. How important he was to me, but now...Alec, things are going to come out whatever we do, I’d kind of like any other revelations to come from the horse’s mouth.’

  She heard him lay his cutlery down upon his plate and lift his mug of tea from the table. Delaying tactics again, Alec, she thought.

  ‘I’ll tell you,’ he said finally. ‘But not just now. Now I’ve got to go and face Phillips before I put it off altogether.’ He got up from the table and came round to her side, kissing her gently on the top of her head and then, when she lifted her face, on the cheek, this second kiss more absent, his mind already somewhere else.

  ‘OK,’ she told him, ‘but Alec, like we agreed last night, there are already too many secrets. Don’t hold out on me any more.’

  *

  The morning had been taken up by clearing breakfast away and getting ready for the afternoon. Paul had collected her and she had joined a dozen noisy kids and assorted parents in their trip to the swimming pool.

  Naomi had loved to swim before. She had tried a few months ago, going with her sister to a quieter, women-only session that the pool held in the evenings. But even that had been too much; the noise level, echoing and confusing. The lack of clues as to where she was in the water, how far from the end of her lane, how she could keep to her own space. It was all too much to take in, even with Sue to guide her.

  She promised that she would try again but thus far she had not done so. She suspected that this birthday treat had been arranged in part for Auntie Naomi to go back to this place that had confused her so much and get acclimatized before Sue started on her next round of persuasion.

  And Naomi was something of a novelty. ‘Sam’s-auntie-that-can’t-see’ was soon in demand to persuade small damp feet into socks and untie knotted laces. Still, Naomi was glad to get out of this place of amplified confusing noise and back to her sister’s house.

  ‘You look exhausted,’ Sue told her. ‘That wasn’t too much for you, was it?’

  ‘No, I was up all night. Or most of it.’

  ‘Oh yes? Alec stayed over again, did he?’

  ‘He did, but that wasn’t...’

  ‘Oh, no, I’m not having that. You’re going bright red.’

  ‘I am not!’ Naomi laughed. ‘I always say I’m not going to rise to the bait and I always do, don’t I?’

  ‘Course you do,’ Sue said as she squeezed her arm. ‘Years of sisterly conditioning. Alec will be coming, won’t he? Sam’s been asking.’

  ‘He’ll be here,’ Naomi told her. ‘He had to see his Super this morning, but he promised to be here around three.’

  ‘Superintendent Phillips on a Saturday. That’s enough to ruin anyone’s weekend. Something new?’

  She was saved the problem of replying by the doorbell ringing. ‘Oh, that’s probably Mam and Dad,’ Sue said. ‘Sam, Rickie, Granddad and Grandma.’

  And she headed for the door, leaving Naomi a moment or two to prepare herself for the parental onslaught.

  Alec arrived at half past three to be given a paper plate piled high with sandwiches and cake. ‘I hope you saved me a jelly?’ Alec said as Sam offered him a balloon.

  ‘My mum put spiders in the jelly,’ Sam told him happily. ‘Yours is green.’

  ‘Excellent!’ Alec approved. ‘Red jelly, with green spiders. Life is now complete.’

  He sat down next to Naomi who seemed to have acquired a child and several dolls, all piled on to her lap. ‘Having fun?’

  ‘You better believe it. How did it go?’

  ‘Oh, I was flavour of the month. First, I disturbed him at home, then I broke the wondrous news.’

  ‘And? Is it true, what Penny told us?’

  ‘It’s true. Or it’s true she took the letter to the police at any rate. I told Phillips that if he didn’t speak to Helen’s family then they might well be looking elsewhere for information.’

  ‘You mean the press? Alec, Harry and Mari would never do that.’

  ‘I know that, you know that. Lord, Harry would sooner run along the beach naked.’

  ‘Naked,’ said the little girl on Naomi’s lap. She giggled.

  ‘Right...’ Alec seemed somewhat at a loss. ‘Maybe we should take a walk around the garden?’

  ‘Oh no you don’t.’ Sue’s voice floated across to them as they started to get up. ‘It’s cake-cutting time.’ She came over and kissed Alec on the cheek. ‘Just accosting your man, big sister.’

  ‘I’m sure he won’t mind.’

  Sue leaned over to her. ‘Just let Sammy blow his candles out, then you can be relieved of party duty and I’ll let you talk shop.’

  ‘Naked!’ came a little voice down by Naomi’s knees. ‘Naked. Naked!’

  ‘If you are, you’d better put your clothes on,’ Sue told the child. ‘Come and have some cake.’

  ‘Cake! Cake!’

  Alec sighed heavily. ‘You all right?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m all right.’

  ‘Not too tired?’

  ‘Too tired for what?’ she asked wickedly.

  ‘Lord, you can always tell when you’ve been around that sister of yours. Full of ideas you are.’ He put his arm around her and squeezed, pulling her as close to him as was decent in a room full of excited kids. She leaned in to him, enjoying the warmth and hardness of his body pressed against her own.

  ‘One two three, blow and don’t forget to make a wish...’

  ‘Too tired for what?’ Naomi asked again, her voice drowned by the singing of happy birthday to her nephew Sam.

  ‘I’ve taken the liberty of inviting Mari and co. to meet at your place later,’ he said. ‘We can always get a takeaway or something after.’

  ‘After what?’ Naomi asked.

  ‘After Phillips has come round and talked to us all,’ Alec said.

  Twenty-One

  At three fifteen on the Radleigh Estate a car pulled up outside the block where Gary Williams lived. There were two men in the car and they were not local, Viccy Elliot was sure of that. The car was too good for a start, no one on the Radleigh owned anything as new or upmarket as that.

  Viccy Elliot had ample opportunity to observe the slew of journalists who had wandered through the Radleigh in recent days, knocking on doors and asking for opinions from young mothers on their way to and from school. For the most part, they had been the same faces as had tracked over their estate when the so-called riots had broken out over that pervert the other year.

  Riots, Viccy Elliot said to herself. If they thought that was a pigging riot...and those two in the car...

  She did have a pretty good idea what they were and she hadn’t remembered seeing either of them before...

  A small movement at the corner of the flat, a man’s head peering warily out from the shadow of the red brick wall. Suddenly Viccy realized whom they had come for.

  Gary Williams broke cover, the first time Viccy remembered seeing him out in daylight since the arrest, and threw himself into the rear of the car, an overnight bag stuffed in just ahead of him.

  And then another figure came running from the direction of the flats, this one looking about her nervously. She caught sight of Viccy just before getting to the car and for an instant she froze, the two women meeting eye to eye across the narrow road. Then Cathy Wa
lton did a very stupid thing. She had the temerity not just to smile at Viccy Elliot—a wide, Cheshire cat grin that really rubbed her face in it—but she also raised her hand and gestured in Viccy’s direction with a single upraised finger.

  Viccy Elliot was a forgiving woman, but some things, from some people, would never sit right.

  ‘Fucking bitch!’ Viccy Elliot exploded as the car sped away.

  Twenty-Two

  By five forty-five everyone concerned had piled into Naomi’s living room and Patrick was helping Alec with coffee. Phillips had been unhappy at the boy being present, but Harry had told him in no uncertain terms that he was not about to leave Patrick on his own in the evening, not knowing how long they’d be away or who was still hanging about outside their house.

  ‘Most of the journalists have gone,’ Harry admitted, ‘but after last night, I wouldn’t want to be on my own, and I don’t see why my son should be.’

  Phillips, though clearly displeased, gave in to the fait accompli and Patrick seated himself on the floor at Naomi’s feet, with Napoleon’s head resting across his legs.

  ‘I want to see what he wrote,’ Mari said, speaking for them all. ‘And don’t give me any bolony about you not being able to authorize it, because I know you’re in charge on this and you damned well can.’

  ‘Mrs Jones...’ Phillips began, but Mari was not to be silenced. She had things to say, emotions walled up for years that had suddenly broken out through the dam and she was ready for battle.

  ‘Don’t you Mrs Jones me,’ she said. ‘My daughter died more than twenty years ago. She never got the chance to become a woman. She didn’t even get the chance to grow up, and if the confession is right and that man took her life from her...’ Her voice broke and she choked on a sob.

  ‘Mam,’ Harry said softly. Naomi could imagine him holding her hands, groping in his pocket for a handkerchief. ‘Mam, let me...’

  ‘No Harry, no. This was my fight first and I’m going to have my say. We trusted Joe Jackson. Trusted that he cared about our Helen and about finding her killer. He was there, all the way through, supporting us, caring for us, or so we thought. He got through to Naomi there when her mam and dad had given up hope of her ever getting hold of life again. He was there for us even after the case had been run down and all the files on my Helen’s death packed away to gather dust. I need to know, I need to know for my own sanity and my own peace of mind. Not that I’m ever going to have peace of mind again after all of this. I need to know if he wrote that awful letter. I want to hear if what he said was the same as she said it was. So damned callous I couldn’t hear Joe saying that, not ever. I need...I need to see that confession or whatever it was and if you don’t show me, my God, I’m going to raise Cain.’

  ‘Wow,’ Patrick said softly.

  Wow, Naomi thought. She had become so used to the Mari she knew. Soft-spoken, strong in her own quiet way, but so much in control of her emotions. This was something new and she could feel the tension of Mari’s speech infiltrate every corner of the room.

  Phillips cleared his throat and shuffled uneasily in his chair. ‘I understand, Mrs Jones—’ he began to say, but he got no further.

  ‘No, Mr Phillips, you don’t understand or you wouldn’t be trying to flannel me like this. You don’t understand because you didn’t lose Helen. You didn’t go through years and years of wondering. Of seeing her in your head every night when you went to sleep. Of falling asleep imagining what the bastard who took her might have done. Seeing her in your dreams killed every which way you could imagine and a few more besides that you didn’t want even to imagine, so that when I found out that she was strangled, you know what, Mr Phillips, I was almost relieved. At least now I could imagine the worst and know it couldn’t be...couldn’t be.’ She stopped there and took a deep breath in, the sobs rising in her throat to choke the words.

  ‘Mam,’ Harry said again. ‘Mam, I never knew.’

  ‘No. No one knew. That was just the trouble. Mac thought it best not to talk about it. He couldn’t bear to do so himself, so he wouldn’t talk to me. And the thought of telling you...you’re our child, Harry. And even when you grew up, you were still our kid, frozen like Helen and I couldn’t put that much grief on you.’

  ‘You think it wasn’t there?’ His voice was sharp. Uncharacteristically so. ‘Mam, if you think I did any less...Mam, I’d go out at night looking. I’d sit where I could watch the waste land, just hoping whoever it was would come back and that I might somehow know it was him if he did. God, you think you were the only one to dream?’

  He fell silent and the room with him. Even the dog had caught the mood and lay motionless with his big black head resting on Patrick’s thigh.

  ‘Why don’t you want us to see it?’ Patrick asked at last. ‘Whatever’s in it can’t be worse than Dad and Nan imagine, could it? I mean...’ he seemed suddenly taken aback by his own temerity.

  ‘No,’ Phillips told him quietly. ‘I don’t suppose it could.’

  Naomi heard him draw something from his pocket. It rustled and crinkled when he unfolded it. A copy then, she guessed, not the original. That must be locked away somewhere. Phillips’ voice was quiet as he began to read out loud:

  I make this statement on October the 19th 1979. I want to set the record straight, though, God forgive me, I don’t have the courage to come out with it now, knowing how many are going to be hurt. It’s my hope that all of this will come out long after I am gone and if luck is on my side, I don’t have to be there to face the consequences when the shit finally hits the fan. It seems to me only right that everyone, whoever they are, should have the right to a decent burial and for their family to know where they are laid to rest and it’s because of this that I write this now.

  You’ll find the body on the Lansdowne Road. The houses were just half-finished when I was looking for a place to leave it and it seemed appropriate, knowing what I know about the place. There was only a plot number there at the time but I’ve been back since and think the house must be number 43. I’m sorry for those who’ll be living there when this is found. It won’t be pleasant for them.

  I won’t ask forgiveness. What’s the point? I didn’t mean for this to happen, but sometimes life has a way of getting away from you.

  ‘It’s signed at the bottom, Joe Jackson, Detective Inspector. And it’s dated October 19th 1979,’ finished Phillips, his voice weighted with sadness.

  ‘My God,’ Harry said.

  Mari began to cry, softly, almost as though she wanted no one else to hear.

  Naomi sat in stunned silence. Vaguely, she heard the paper rustle again and Alec’s voice. ‘Typewritten,’ he said. ‘An old portable by the look of it. What do Documents have to say?’

  Phillips cleared his throat. ‘They agree,’ he said. ‘We’re working on the model and so on. Nothing firm yet.’

  ‘Is it his signature?’ Naomi wanted to know. ‘No one could have...’

  ‘Forged it? I’m sorry, Naomi, Documents are convinced it’s contemporary with the letter being written and it matches. We’ve pulled records from other cases for comparison and his daughter provided us with other samples. There’s very little doubt.’

  ‘Very little?’

  ‘None.’ Phillips amended. ‘Naomi, I wish there were.’

  The clock ticked noisily in the silent room. No one moved. It struck the hour and Naomi counted automatically. Six o’clock. The sharp ringing of a mobile phone suddenly shattered the uncomfortable peace.

  ‘Excuse me,’ Phillips said. He spoke briefly into the handset. Listened, spoke again. ‘I’ve got to go,’ he said.

  Naomi wondered if he really did or if the phone call was just a blessed excuse for him to escape.

  ‘I’m sorry, Naomi,’ Phillips said. In her confusion she wasn’t sure what he was sorry for; having to leave or her mentor having murdered her best friend. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

  Alec left with Phillips after giving her the briefest kiss goodbye
. ‘I’ll call you later,’ he said. She had known that he would not be staying that night, but even so, she hated that he had to go.

  The silence continued in the room after they had left, the slamming of the front door only serving to emphasize it.

  ‘I think I want to go home,’ Mari said at last. ‘Naomi, love...’

  Naomi nodded. ‘It’s OK,’ she said, thinking, no it’s not. Nothing will ever be OK again.

  ‘Can I stay?’

  ‘What? Sorry.’

  ‘I said, can I stay?’ Patrick repeated. ‘I can sleep on the couch.’

  ‘Patrick, I don’t think...’ Harry began.

  ‘No,’ Naomi told him. ‘I’ll be glad of the company,’ she surprised herself by saying. Then surprised herself again by finding this was true. The thought of being alone with her thoughts was not an appealing one.

  ‘I’ve a spare bedroom anyway,’ she told Patrick. ‘You’ll have to help me make up the bed, but you’re welcome to stay.’

  ‘Well, if you’re sure,’ Harry said. He sounded doubtful, but also oddly relieved. ‘OK, Mam, let’s get you home. I’ll call later,’ he promised. ‘Make sure everything’s all right.’ Naomi nodded. She stood in the centre of the living room, listening to the sounds of their departure, of Patrick showing his dad out and then coming back upstairs and closing the door. He stood for a moment, just inside the doorway. Naomi could feel his pent-up energy and frustration reaching out to her across the room.

  ‘I want to walk,’ she said. ‘I can’t stay cooped up here.’

  ‘OK. How about down to the sea? I’ve hardly seen it since I’ve been here.’

  Naomi smiled. ‘I’ll get my coat,’ she said. ‘It’s likely to be windy this time of night. You have one?’

  ‘Yeah. You think dad’d let me out of the house without?’

  ‘Right,’ she said, suddenly desperately energized. Urgently in need of action, any kind of action. Something to do that had nothing at all to do with Helen or the pain of it all. ‘We’ll take a walk on the beach and then you can thrash me at that arcade game we talked about.’