Mourning the Little Dead

by Jane A. Adams

  ‘Maggie?’ Alec said. ‘Talk to me.’

  She slammed down the bowl and turned sharply to face him. ‘She knew who I was,’ Maggie told him, the sudden anger in her voice shocking him as much as the naked pain in her eyes. ‘One day, she came up to me in the doctor’s office and she told me who she was. It was like she wanted to be friends or something and...and for a little while, I don’t know, I tried to like her. She seemed so...lonely. Lost.’

  She hugged herself suddenly, hands clamping her upper arms, her body tense and rigid. ‘She kept turning up. Here, when I was out shopping, at the school. It got so I didn’t want to go and pick the kids up any more. Their dad started doing it for me when he could. He could see how worked up I’d got. She said she just wanted to be friends. Bought the kids sweets and toys. They liked her, I mean what kid wouldn’t if you’re constantly stuffing them with sweets? But I couldn’t cope. She came on like we were sisters or something. Had all these things in common.’ She wiped her eyes angrily with the palm of her hand and turned her back on him again, her hands moving now to grip the bowl as though it were a life belt. ‘You know, one day I got so wound up. She’d been hanging round the kids, Sarah especially, bribing them, telling them that she loved them more than anyone else. Sarah wouldn’t settle that night, she’d had too much sugar, too much of Penny. I made her go to bed and she played up, said she loved Penny more than me.

  ‘It was too much. I couldn’t bear it. I took the kid by the arms and shook her. I could feel my fingers digging into her arms and she had bruises next morning. I was so ashamed. So bloody ashamed. And I know she saw. And every time after that, whenever I met her, she just looked at me like I was dirt and she’d say things like it was a shame I couldn’t control my temper, that it set the kids a bad example, but that she supposed she couldn’t expect any different knowing who my father was.

  ‘In the end, I told her I was going to call the police if she didn’t stop hassling me and I moved doctors and when they asked me at the health centre why, I told them why. I told them why.’

  She took a shuddering breath and then another.

  ‘Maggie?’ Alec said softly. ‘When was this?’

  The hands moved again, both of them this time, wiping angrily across her eyes. ‘A year ago,’ she said. ‘About a year ago. She left the place then, the health centre and, you know, I hope they forced her out. I hope they made her go.’

  *

  The rest of the morning was less useful. He visited Geoff Lyman, wanting to talk more about Bill, but no one was home and when he called Naomi she wasn’t there either. He remembered belatedly that it was one of her days at the advice centre. So he went back to report to Travers and found that Travers himself had news.

  ‘The man with Penny Jackson. He’s a private investigator, name of Edwin Tompkins. We’re trying to track him down. His office says he’s out working somewhere, but don’t know where. I hear you’ve had a busy morning.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Maggie Clarke called me.’

  ‘There’s a link between the Clarkes and Penny Jackson. A more recent link than their dad taking off with her mother.’ He told Travers what Maggie Clarke had said.

  ‘So, she lost her job?’

  ‘I imagine it must have been difficult to continue. Her employers must have seen this as a breach of etiquette if not of outright trust.’

  ‘The pattern of behaviour though. It’s very familiar.’

  ‘Very,’ Travers agreed. ‘Maggie called me after you’d gone. I don’t know exactly what you said to her, but it had an effect. She told me that Robert Williams had a record. They divorced after his wife accused him of abusing the children.’

  ‘What? But he still had access.’

  ‘The kids got scared and retracted their statements. The judge ruled in their father’s favour and gave him one weekend in two.’

  ‘God Almighty.’

  ‘But that’s not all. The mother was so distraught she did some digging and eventually the access was rescinded. Trouble was, Robert Williams had already disappeared.’

  ‘Joe. Getting rid of a problem.’

  ‘It’s looking like a possibility. What eventually came out was that Williams had been accused of sexual assault. He was nineteen at the time, the girl was ten, but again, the kid was scared, the case was discharged for insufficient evidence.’

  Alec felt that things were slowly sliding into place, but he could not yet see the completed pattern.

  ‘If Penny saw her father kill...If Penny saw her father kill Robert Williams. If Robert Williams assaulted her and her father knew. If Joe had killed Robert and buried him on Lansdowne Road and Penny knew. Tried to make someone realize without...without implicating herself...But why not come straight out and tell?

  ‘If Joe had confessed...Dick, that confession, it doesn’t mention Helen. The letters don’t mention Helen, what if we’ve been getting this wrong?’

  ‘It doesn’t mean he didn’t murder her as well.’

  Alec’s thoughts returned to Maggie Clarke and to her little girl. ‘What if it wasn’t a man?’ he said.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Sarah Clarke. We made the assumption that it must be a man. But there was no semen and anyone can sexually assault a child. The PM never described it as rape.’

  ‘Go on,’ Travers said, but his expression told Alec he knew where this was heading.

  ‘Sarah would only go with someone she knew. Someone who gave her sweets and toys and maybe even told her she was her auntie. Maggie says she wanted to be like family.’

  ‘Motive?’

  ‘Who knows? Some kind of belated revenge? I’m not sure I can even begin to understand that woman’s mind.’

  Travers nodded. ‘But Penny Jackson might well be our killer,’ he said softly.

  Thirty-Nine

  The patrol car radioed back that no one was home at the Jackson house. They had banged on the door and gone round the back. A neighbour, attracted by the noise, told them she had seen Penny going out an hour before.

  ‘Naomi wasn’t home yet either,’ Alec told Travers.

  ‘Had she left the advice centre?’

  ‘I tried there as well. Apparently she’s gone out to lunch today. It’s someone’s birthday, but the woman at the desk didn’t know where. Come to think of it, she did mention it last week, but I’d forgotten. Then, I think she’s due to go to Mari’s later this afternoon.’

  ‘What about her mobile?’

  ‘Battery won’t hold a charge. She’s been having problems with it all week.’ He was dialling as he spoke. Patrick answered. He was on his own and had also been trying to get hold of Naomi.

  ‘Nan’s ill,’ he told Alec. ‘Dad called an ambulance and he’s gone to the hospital with her. He went in the ambulance and I stayed behind in case Naomi turned up.’

  ‘What’s wrong with Mari?’ Alec asked. ‘Are you OK on your own?’

  ‘Alec, I’m fifteen. Of course I’m fine. But I don’t know about Nan. I heard the paramedics talking about a heart attack. She’s been taking these blood pressure tablets and she was white and her mouth was all blue when they took her away. Dad phoned me from the hospital about twenty minutes ago, but he doesn’t know anything yet.’

  ‘OK, look, ignore the door unless it’s Naomi. When’s she due?’

  ‘She wasn’t sure, someone’s birthday at the place where she works. She was winding Dad up and telling him she intended getting pissed. I think she should be here by three, half an hour or so.’

  ‘Call me, the moment she gets there.’ Alec gave him the office number and his mobile. ‘The moment. Promise.’

  ‘Sure. What’s wrong, Alec? Something’s happened, hasn’t it?’

  Alec hesitated, not sure how much he should tell but anxious that the boy should be protected. ‘If Penny Jackson turns up don’t let her in. Call me straightaway. You got that?’

  ‘Sure I’ve got that, but Alec...’

  ‘Sorry old son, can’t tell you more
. Any worries, dial the nines.’

  He rang off and Travers’ worried gaze met his own.

  ‘If she was having Tompkins follow her,’ Travers said, ‘she’ll know exactly where Naomi is.’

  *

  Naomi hadn’t carried out her threat. She’d had two celebratory glasses of red wine and discovered that Napoleon liked pretzels. Lunch with Cathy and the others had been fun and she had been shocked at how much she really needed the balm of laughter and unforced, unimportant conversation. It was the first time she had eaten out since the accident and she marked it down as another little victory.

  Her mood, therefore, when she got off the bus at the end of Mari’s street, was happy and mellow. She listened for the bus moving off and then shifted towards the kerb, but she never made it across the road.

  ‘Hello, Naomi,’ Penny said. ‘I think we’ll take a walk. I really need to talk to you.’

  Patrick watched from the upstairs window. He was scared, more scared than he really wanted to admit. Already, before Alec called, he had been anxious about his Nan; frightened at how blue and pale she looked and how clammy her skin had felt. Alec’s phone call with its warnings and implicit threat had only served to unnerve him further.

  He saw the bus pull up and, though it was hard to see, was sure that he spotted Naomi moving along the aisle. Relief flooded through him and he prepared to run down and tell Alec that his friend was here and everything was going to be all right.

  Then the bus moved off and Patrick froze.

  Penny. He watched in horror as Naomi turned from the road and began to walk away. Penny’s hand on her arm. Penny holding tight to Napoleon’s harness.

  For a second or two Patrick stared, too shocked to move, then he ran down the stairs and wrenched the front door open, pausing only to snatch the telephone numbers Alec had given him from the table by the phone.

  Then sense kicked in. If anything happened, Alec had said, call in on the nines.

  He dialled fast, jiggling impatiently from foot to foot and he waited for the line to connect, the operator to put him through, the call taker to ask him for his number and his name.

  It’s Patrick Jones,’ he yelled. ‘Look, I don’t have time. Tell Inspector Alec Friedman that Penny’s here and she’s got Naomi.’ Then he dropped the phone and took off at a run, not even pausing to shut the door.

  Forty

  ‘Where are you taking me?’

  ‘I just want to talk. That’s all. It’s what I always wanted, but you’d always got something more important to do. Someone who needed your attention more.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Naomi said. ‘I didn’t mean it to seem that way.’

  ‘Oh, I suppose I should be used to it by now. Being less important than everyone else. There are steps down. A handle on your right.’

  So they were going down on to the towpath, Naomi thought. She’d guessed as much but the steps were confirmation. The rail was scaffolding pipe, cool beneath her fingers. Her hands were sweating and a trickle of moisture crawled down her spine, soaking into the waistband of her skirt.

  She hesitated at the top step. The towpath was likely empty this time of day. Children didn’t play there as they had in Naomi’s childhood. There might be a fisherman, but that was all. She was reluctant to shift so far away from the houses; from potential help.

  ‘I told you what I’d do,’ Penny said. ‘I’ve got the dog and I’d not hesitate, Naomi. This knife is sharp.’ To prove her point, she jabbed Naomi in the hand, not deep, but enough to bleed. She yelped, more from shock than real pain, and Napoleon grumbled plaintively.

  ‘Now, I suggest we all go down.’

  ‘Why are you doing this?’ Naomi asked again. ‘Just what do you hope to prove? To achieve?’

  She felt Penny shrug. ‘Someone might at last take notice,’ was all she would say.

  They walked in silence for a while, Naomi aware of the woman’s fingers digging into her arm. The only sounds she could hear were the soft pad of Napoleon’s feet through the fallen leaves that littered the towpath this time of year; their own shoes, shuffling through the same; the faint trickle of water. She strained hard to hear voices, other footsteps, wondering if she could take the risk of shouting and attracting someone’s attention if she did hear anyone near; if she could risk Penny hurting Napoleon.

  She must have him on a lead, Naomi thought, not using his harness or she wouldn’t be able to free her other hand. She must have her wrist looped through the end of the lead, so she could keep the knife in her hand.

  She tried to imagine the position of Penny’s other arm. How far would the dog be from danger if Naomi risked pushing against her and tried to grab her arm, but she didn’t dare. All Penny would have to do would be to jerk on the lead and the dog would be at her mercy. He’d been trained to stick close to Naomi and that’s exactly what he would try to do.

  The sound of rushing water impinged upon her consciousness. Which way would they go? Across the weir or the other path, further along the branch of the canal and back towards the houses? It would be the weir, she knew it, towards the mill.

  She tried to talk again, remembering her training for hostage situations. Make yourself real, particular, personal. Not just the faceless victim.

  ‘Let’s turn back, Penny. I know this has all been hard for you. I know we haven’t helped but let’s turn back now. Go to Mari’s, sit down and all of us talk this through. We can forget this—’

  ‘Shut up and walk,’ Penny told her bluntly and it occurred to Naomi that, although Penny had avowed her need and her intent to communicate, now she had her, here, where she wanted her, helpless and forced to listen, Penny could no longer think what it was she had wanted to say.

  Patrick had guessed where they were going as soon as they had disappeared between the houses. He followed swiftly, reasoning that they would not be moving fast but knowing that once they had reached the towpath, it would be near impossible to follow and not to be seen.

  They were a third of the way along the path when Patrick reached the steps. Penny had the dog still, not holding him by the harness as Patrick had first thought, but on a choke chain and lead. Napoleon was clearly unhappy with the arrangement, pressing close to the woman’s legs in his efforts to turn his head back towards Naomi. Patrick thought of running at her from behind, wondering if he could run fast enough and silently enough to reach them before Penny turned. Then he saw the knife glint in Penny’s hand as she once more lifted it and jabbed it towards Naomi. The choke chain pulled the dog up short and the movement of her arm nearly jerked the poor animal off his feet. Patrick understood now why Naomi had gone so easily with Penny and he knew that there was nothing he could do which wouldn’t put Napoleon at further risk.

  Patrick crouched at the foot of the steps, half-hidden by the bank and its tall grasses and shrubby growth. Every second he hoped to hear sirens. To know that help was on the way. But however hard he strained his ears, there was nothing. How long would it take them? Had they believed him? Had they passed his message on? The questions nagged at his mind as Penny and Naomi walked around a bend in the towpath and disappeared.

  The route split into two at the weir, he remembered from his walk that night with Naomi. He had to know which one they’d take and get the message back to Alec.

  Taking a deep breath, Patrick left the safety of the steps and trotted on.

  ‘We’re in the mill, aren’t we?’ The smell of old wood and oil and grease, urine and stale alcohol was a familiar one. The building had been derelict for years and Naomi had come in here often during her career to clear the drunks and drug users when local complaints got too insistent. She kicked something as she took another step. She heard a bottle roll across the floor and smelt the pungent stink of methylated spirits.

  ‘Watch it,’ Penny said. ‘The floor’s littered with that kind of junk. Steps, straight ahead. They’re wooden and rickety so go slow.’

  Naomi reached forward. The steps, she found, were open treads
and very steep. Glass crunched beneath her feet and she caught another bottle under her heel, her foot rolling on the glass and unbalancing her. There were handrails at the side, but when Naomi rested her hand on one of them, it gave way beneath her palm and the steps shook violently as the spindles tumbled to the floor. Naomi cried out in shock and lifted her other hand from the other rail, afraid that it too would disintegrate.

  ‘Move,’ Penny told her, pushing her from behind. Angrily, Naomi kicked back at her, the heel of her shoe making contact with something soft.

  It was Penny’s turn to yelp and gasp as the breath was knocked out of her, but then the choke chain rattled and the dog squealed.

  ‘Napoleon!’

  ‘Now move,’ Penny told her again, she sounded breathless but even more determined. Naomi was forced to almost crawl up the flight of stairs, using her hands on the treads to find her way.

  From across the bridge, Patrick saw them go into the mill. He wondered what to do. If he followed them, he would almost certainly he seen. The bridge was utterly exposed and there were still unbroken windows in the upper storey of the building that, filthy as they were, might still give a view to anyone inside.

  Think, think, he told himself, trying to fix the geography of the area in his head. There was a telephone, he remembered, on the road that ran above the bank. Patrick turned around and began to climb, tugging on the bushes for support, his feet slipping on the wet mud and carpet of leaf mould. He was gasping for breath before he reached the top and stumbled into the road hoping that the call box would not have been vandalised.

  He had no money to call Alec. His dad had taught him how to make a reverse charge call in an emergency and he did that now, giving Alec’s office number, not sure they would connect him to a mobile.

  Would he be there? Would he accept the call? Would they think it was a joke, a reverse charge call going to a police station, and just hang up on him? He was preparing to put down the phone and dial the nines again when Alec himself came on the line.