No Questions Asked

by Menon, David

  The room was filled out with representatives of the local and national media covering print, television, and online news organizations. Jeff recognized some of the faces but many of the others were new to him. Whenever a police officer had to investigate a crime against someone he was familiar with it was always tough and it had been an emotional couple of days since Bradley Thompson’s body had been found in the woods near Jeff’s house. His son Toby was still in a distressed state after having found the body and Jeff was keeping him off school for as long as it took for him to settle again. At only six years old Jeff didn’t let Toby go out on his own anyway but everyone in the neighbourhood was being especially vigilant when it came to their children’s safety. At least Bradley had not been sexually assaulted according to the pathologist June Hawkins. That had been some comfort to his mother.

  Jeff’s live-in Nanny and housekeeper Brendan was taking good care of Toby and Jeff’s sister Annabel was there for him too. Annabel was also spending a lot of time with Bradley’s mother Lucy whom she’d befriended at the barbecue before the devastating news had broken. The poor woman had been ostracized by the rest of the neighbours who hadn’t exactly been overflowing with wishes of condolence and promises of help. She never had been accepted into the ‘in’ circle before this happened but Jeff had thought that they might relent given the circumstances and try and reach out to her. Sadly that wasn’t to be and he’d been disappointed by the callousness shown by people who he thought would be bigger than that.

  ‘Bradley Thompson was eleven years old’ Jeff went on. ‘He was an average student at the local comprehensive school but he was a popular boy and had his whole future ahead of him. He could’ve done anything or gone anywhere but all those dreams have now been cruelly taken away from him. Our pathologist June Hawkins has confirmed that Bradley was strangled. It didn’t appear like anything such as a scarf was used in the strangulation. It’s more or less certain that the killer used their glove covered hands. His body was found only a short distance from the main road, just inside Mile End Woods which is used extensively by the local community as a short cut from Mile End Park through to the residential area where Bradley lived. Bradley’s body was found just after two o’clock on Sunday afternoon, by my six year-old son I might add who was a mate of Bradley’s, but we know that he left the home of his friend Luke Brown, just two miles away, to catch the bus home at midday. Luke’s father couldn’t give him the usual lift home because his car had broken down. Luke’s mother saw Bradley onto the bus and never thought he’d come to any harm’.

  Rebecca stood up and stepped over to where a map of the local area had been pinned to a mobile notice board on the left hand side of the room. As Jeff spoke she followed the route he was describing with her hand.

  ‘The CCTV camera on the bus shows him getting off at the stop at the end of Central Lane at 12.14’ Jeff went on. ‘It was a five minute walk through Mile End Woods from there to his home on Fairview Drive number sixteen. Now within that small area, that short distance, a killer or killers were able to bring Bradley’s short life to a horrible end. There must’ve been people around the area at that time, maybe enjoying a family walk or exercising their dog or using the short cut to somewhere else like so many in the community did. I appeal to anyone to please come forward and tell us whatever you know, however trivial or unimportant you think it might be, but please tell us because it may provide us with a lead to identifying and apprehending Bradley’s killer and bringing justice for this eleven year-old boy and his Mum who has been completely shattered by this event’.

  ‘Finally, Bradley was carrying a small black and grey rucksack containing his overnight things. We haven’t been able to locate the rucksack. He may have taken it off his back and decided to carry it along with him but either way it wasn’t found with his body and we haven’t found it anywhere in the woods and we know that he had it when he got off the bus. We believe it may have been taken by the killer or killers and again if anyone has any information about it then please let us know’.

  The first question came firing out of the pack like a bullet from a gun.

  ‘Why isn’t Lucy Thompson here?’

  ‘She’s resting at home’ Jeff answered. ‘She’s had to be quite heavily sedated since Sunday afternoon as you can probably imagine’.

  ‘She’s not doing a shift at the Paramount Club then?’

  A ripple of amusement swept round the journalists when they saw the blank looks on the faces of the officers staring back at them.

  ‘Oh sorry, didn’t you know?’ the hack went on with a look of absolute triumph on his face. ‘It’s a lap dancing club in Stockport. Lucy Thompson did regular evenings there and left her son at home whilst she was flashing her breasts to all and sundry’.

  Jeff was livid. Not only because he hadn’t known about Lucy’s activities, that’s if the story was true and he would be checking it out as soon as the press conference was finished, but because it didn’t matter if she had been. A young boy of eleven years old had been murdered and all these vultures were interested in was the working life of his mother. No wonder there’s little respect for journalism in this country. These were tabloid hacks at their very finest but if it was true that Lucy had been working at the Paradise club then it could be interesting because the club was owned by Bernie Connelly, one of Manchester’s most notorious gangsters and an old adversary of Jeff’s.

  ‘That’s not pertinent to the investigation, now I ask you to … ‘

  ‘ … and is it true she was having sex with her married lover Gary Mitchell from across the road at about the time her son was murdered?’

  ‘Again I do not judge that to be relevant to this press conference which was called to seek the help of yourselves and the public in finding her son’s killer’ Jeff stated forcefully.

  ‘But surely an accurate picture of Lucy Thompson’s life is necessary for you to do your job and find her son’s killer? It could be that you find them amongst his mother’s more unsavory associates?’

  Jeff gave a sideways look towards WPC Gemma Fletcher but it wasn’t her fault. She’d been family liaison officer to Lucy for barely 48 hours for which she’d been sedated most of the time and no really meaningful conversation could’ve taken place. And Jeff was Lucy’s neighbour but he hadn’t known that she’d been working at the Paramount club, nor had he had any idea of her affair with Gary Mitchell. That was the trouble with being a police officer. You were so busy investigating crimes committed by and against complete strangers that you didn’t know what was happening under your very nose. That’s why he hadn’t noticed what was going on with Rebecca for so long. He’d noticed now well enough and he was noticing Rebecca in a very different way these days.

  ‘Look, this is information that may end up being relevant to the case but can I please for now ask you to concentrate on the initial moves to find Bradley Thompson’s killer or killers?’

  ‘DSI Barton, did you also know that Lucy Thompson had once worked as a prostitute for the notorious Manchester gangster Bernie Connelly?’

  The atmosphere in the Mitchell household had been somewhat tense since the body of Bradley Thompson had been found. Gary had wanted so much to go over and see Lucy to offer her some kind of comfort but he knew it wouldn’t have gone down well with Debbie. She was still reeling from the public humiliation of the exposure of Gary and Lucy’s affair.

  ‘How does it feel?’ asked Debbie when she walked into the living room and saw Gary looking out of the window towards Lucy Thompson’s house across the road.

  ‘How does what feel, Debbie?’ Gary snarled. He was in no mood for her sarcastic digs.

  ‘Well if you were to go over there and try and offer the slapper whatever you felt like offering her it would destroy your image as the all round good guy round here’.

  Gary turned to her with a look of utter contempt. ‘Do you really think I give a damn about what other people think of me?’

  ‘Well you don’t seem to care what I
think of you’.

  ‘Debbie, an eleven year old boy is dead! He’s been murdered! And you’re so self bloody obsessed that you’re trying to score points off his grieving mother. You make me sick’.

  ‘She humiliated me in front of all of our friends!’ said Debbie. ‘I owe her nothing’.

  ‘You’re a heartless bitch’.

  ‘Oh well forgive me for feeling just a little bit put out about finding out at a neighbour’s barbecue that my husband was sleeping with another neighbour across the road. You must’ve told me a pack of abominable lies and you know that I cannot take being lied to’.

  ‘Debbie, do you remember how we got together? You were with Jim and I stole you off him but you conveniently forget all the lies you told him when we were sleeping together behind his back’.

  ‘I cannot take lies and you’ve always known that’.

  ‘Oh please, your hypocrisy is breathtaking! You can’t take lies unless you’re the one who’s telling them. That is so bloody typical of women’.

  Debbie breathed in deeply. ‘Alright’ she said ‘But whilst we’re on the subject of lies maybe you can help me out in another one I’ve been hearing? Was he your son?’

  ‘You mean Bradley?’

  ‘Who else would I be talking about?’ she roared bitterly.

  ‘Well that’s something you’ll have to ask Lucy’ said Gary who’d thought of nothing else since the body had been found than whether or not Bradley had been his son. His age fitted with when he and Lucy had indulged in their first affair and one way or another he’d have to know. ‘But if he was then it means it isn’t my fault that you and I are childless’.

  THREE

  Kyle wasn’t able to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes all he could see was Tim Ryder lying in bed the morning after the night they’d slept together. Now Tim was dead. He’d hanged himself. And everybody was treating Kyle like he’d been some kind of victim. He wasn’t a victim. He didn’t feel anything like a victim. He kept trying to tell everybody that but they wouldn’t listen. He’d been in control all the way through and he was going to take control again. He’d made a decision and they weren’t going to like it but he wasn’t going to give them any choice.

  He went downstairs in his t-shirt and jogging pants and made himself a mug of tea. He’d only been staying at his Uncle Jeff’s a few days but it had already been more dramatic that either he or his Mum would’ve chosen. Poor little Bradley had been murdered and now everybody was labelling his mother as some kind of slapper. Kyle didn’t think it was fair. She hadn’t done anything wrong apart from do what she could to survive but it seemed like there was always someone ready to stick their knife into your happiness.

  ‘Is there enough water in the pot for another one?’ asked Annabel as she joined her son in the kitchen. She was in her pyjamas and bathrobe. She walked up to him and kissed him. ‘Morning, son’.

  ‘Morning, Mum. Sit down and I’ll bring it over’.

  ‘Are we okay, Kyle?’

  Kyle looked questioningly at her. ‘Of course we are’ he said. ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘Well because of everything that’s happened’ said Annabel, stroking his arm. ‘That’s why I couldn’t sleep. Everything keeps going round and round in my head’.

  ‘I’m okay Mum and we’re okay, honestly’.

  ‘You don’t mind moving over here?’

  ‘No’ said Kyle who was quite excited by the idea. He’d had enough of Blackpool. It was where his Dad had left him and his Mum. He wasn’t even bothered about moving schools. He didn’t have much in the way of friends at his Blackpool school. The resort town was full of gays but some of the local population didn’t exactly reflect the diversity of the town in their attitudes. He was excluded from more or less everything and never invited to anything. He was always on the outside. That’s one of the reasons why the world he and Tim had created that night had been so special because he’d felt like he belonged there. But now it was gone. ‘This is a big house. And I like Uncle Jeff. He’s cool’.

  ‘Yes he is’ said Annabel, smiling. ‘You won’t miss your old school?’

  ‘Are you serious? I’ve got nothing in common with any of that lot. Let’s move down here tomorrow, Mum. I know this isn’t exactly in the centre of Manchester but it is part of the big city so bring it on’.

  ‘It’s only a bus ride away into the city centre’.

  ‘I know and I can’t wait to be honest’ Kyle admitted.

  ‘We won’t stay here with Uncle Jeff for long though’ said Annabel. ‘Just until I can get a job and then a flat for us but we will stay in this area so we can be close to Jeff and Toby’.

  ‘And that’ll be good for you Mum to have a family member close by that you can actually rely on’.

  Annabel smiled. ‘God I was lucky when I got you’.

  ‘You really think that, Mum?’

  ‘I couldn’t have wished for a better son, Kyle’ said Annabel, proudly.

  ‘Even after what I’ve put you through lately?’

  ‘Well we’re getting through that’ said Annabel. She wished her ex-husband Clive would take some kind of interest in their son though. ‘Dare I ask if you’ve heard from your Dad?’

  ‘Why would I?’

  ‘Well I did ring and tell him everything’ said Annabel. She’d fallen out of love with her ex-husband a long time ago but it still hurt that he didn’t take any notice of anything to do with Kyle. ‘And he said he’d call you’.

  ‘Like that would’ve made things a whole lot better’.

  ‘He … oh I don’t know why I still defend him where you’re concerned’.

  ‘Because you’re a better person than he is, Mum’ said Kyle. ‘He’s washed his hands of us. He’s too busy doing whatever he’s doing to give a second thought about his son’.

  ‘I’m sorry, love’.

  ‘Don’t be sorry, Mum’ said Kyle who’d given up wondering if his Dad was ever going to come back into his life. ‘I’m not anymore. I’ve got my own life to live’.

  They sat down together at the kitchen table with their tea. It was a little after half past five and the sun hadn’t come up yet.

  ‘How’s Lucy, Mum?’ Kyle asked.

  Annabel shook her head. ‘Absolutely distraught. She just can’t find her way at the minute at all’.

  ‘It was horrific seeing Bradley’s body in the undergrowth’ said Kyle. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever forget it’.

  ‘Nor will our Toby’ said Annabel ‘He’s still in a mess about it’.

  ‘Well Bradley was his mate’ said Kyle. ‘Toby probably looked up to him like little kids do with older kids’.

  ‘Well I’m going to go over to Lucy’s place soon’ said Annabel. ‘She has no family to turn to and nobody else in the street in helping her’.

  ‘Mum, I need to talk to you’ said Kyle.

  ‘That sounds ominous’.

  ‘Well you see one of the reasons why I couldn’t sleep is that I’ve made up my mind about something’ Kyle declared. ‘And I don’t know if you’re going to like it’.

  ‘Oh don’t scare me, son. What is it you’ve made up your mind about?’

  ‘I’m not going back to the therapist, Mum’.

  ‘What? But Kyle …‘

  ‘ … no Mum. The therapist says I’m okay. Everybody around me can see I’m okay so I’m just not going back. Instead I’m going to get on with being the happy little gay man that I am’.

  ‘Kyle, I don’t think you’ve really thought this through’.

  ‘Alright, well let’s get down to it’ said Kyle. ‘Would it really have made any difference if my first sexual experience had been with a boy of my own age? Because that’s just what I didn’t want, Mum. I wanted to sleep with a man. I didn’t want to sleep with a boy of my own age because they don’t interest me. Older men do’.

  ‘But you were underage, Kyle’.

  ‘Mum, I knew where it was heading that night with Tim and I did nothing to discourage him. I wanted
it to happen, Mum. It was my choice and surely its’ better that it happened because I wanted it to rather than someone forcing themselves on me or raping me?’

  ‘Oh Kyle it’s like you’re throwing a whole lot of numbers into my head but they don’t add up because it was against the law and Tim should’ve stopped it happening’.

  ‘Alright but tell me this, Mum? Are you ashamed of the fact that I’m gay?’

  ‘No, of course I’m not. Your uncle Lewis is gay too and I’m not ashamed of him either. In fact I think that him and Seamus have a wonderful relationship’.

  ‘Right’ said Kyle. ‘Well let me tell you this, Mum. That night with Tim was the best night of my life so far and I don’t regret it and I’m not the least bit ashamed of it. The therapist, the doctor both agree that I’m alright. I’m not mad or delusional and I’m not emotionally unstable. As far as I’m concerned I haven’t been abused. It’s only the law that says I have. Now if some paedophile had tried it on with Bradley or God forbid our Toby then I would be the first to cut their fucking bollocks off. But I’m older, Mum. I’m fifteen going on sixteen in a few months. I can get past what happened to me because I wanted it to happen, Mum’.

  ‘And if he was still alive?’

  ‘Then I’d want it to happen again. He was a tortured soul, Mum. He’d lived with some horrific stuff from his childhood. He needed our sympathy not our condemnation’.

  ‘He groomed you through me, Kyle’.

  ‘If you want to look at it that way’ Kyle retorted. ‘I accept that it was against the law. But it wasn’t against what I wanted. I’m not one of those sad victims lost in the system. I’m here and I’ve got you. And I didn’t want to bring this up, Mum, but I overheard you telling Uncle Jeff the other night when you were both on the wine and all the stories were coming out that you had your first sexual experience at the age of fourteen with a man of twenty-eight. So why is what you did any different from what I did? You told Uncle Jeff that you’d never regretted it and didn’t consider the man to be a paedophile. So why is it any different for me, Mum? Why were you a young girl getting up to no good and yet I’m in need of a therapist? I love you, Mum, but please don’t be a hypocrite. My head and my heart are in tune with each other and I’m fine so no more therapy sessions. And now I’m going to see if I can get some more sleep’.