Flawed

by Jo Bannister

  When Daniel asked to see him first thing on Friday morning, Des Chalmers thought that his new job hadn't worked out and he was ready to return to teaching. The Principal was delighted. The newest recruit to the maths department wore Batman socks and told jokes where the punchline was a formula.

  ‘The answer's yes,’ he said before Daniel had even got in through his door.

  ‘Oh. Good,’ said Daniel, taken aback. ‘What was the question?’

  Chalmers squinted at him. ‘You are here to ask for your job back, aren't you?’

  ‘No. Sorry, Des,’ he said, and meant it. ‘You know I'd rather work here. But right now…’ He gave an apologetic little shrug.

  ‘Yeah. I know,’ said Chalmers. ‘Just wishful thinking. So what can I do for you?’

  ‘It's a bit delicate,’ admitted Daniel. ‘And I'd ask you to treat it in confidence except that a moment may come when you couldn't and I wouldn't want you to.’

  ‘OK,’ said Chalmers carefully, ‘then let's say I'll use my discretion. What's happened?’

  Daniel told him everything. About Noah Selkirk visiting his office, and their chance meeting at Ye Olde Junk Shoppe; about the bruises; about the father's attempt to scare him off.

  ‘I suppose I'm just giving you the head's up,’ said Daniel. ‘You're Noah's head teacher, I thought you ought to know.’

  Chalmers nodded sombrely. ‘Did he tell you his father was hitting him?’

  ‘No. But I've seen the bruises. And he did tell me both his parents worked so hard they were tired and life at home was difficult because of it.’

  ‘But Selkirk denied it.’

  ‘Of course he did,’ said Daniel. ‘What else was he going to say? “That's right, when I've had a rough day in court I come home and give my twelve-year-old a couple of backhanders.”’

  ‘Have you spoken to Mrs Selkirk?’

  ‘Not about this. I think Selkirk's violent with her too. Noah's worried about her – that's why he came to see me. And things Selkirk said to me suggested it too. “Stay away from my wife” – something like that.’

  Chalmers was thinking. It wasn't the first time he'd confronted the issue of parental violence to a pupil. There was a carefully thought–out mechanism for dealing with it, set in concrete because a lot of people – the pupil, his teachers, the innocent parent, even the accused parent if the suspicion turned out to be unfounded – could be damaged if it wasn't followed to the letter. They could even if it was, but following the guidelines gave a measure of protection.

  ‘Have you spoken to the police? Or Social Services?’

  ‘Not yet. I will if it doesn't stop. What I'm hoping is that now Selkirk knows it isn't a secret any longer he'll keep his hands in his pockets. If he can, I doubt we'd be doing Noah any favours by broadcasting this. He doesn't want to see his father in court. I'm hoping this will have been a wake–up call and Selkirk will get himself under control. But if I'm wrong, you'll see the proof before I do. Don't believe it if Noah says he fell off his bicycle again.’

  The Principal was wrestling with his conscience. ‘Maybe I should be talking to Social Services and the police.’

  Daniel spread an appellant hand. ‘I don't want you to do anything you can't defend to the Governors. But if you could see your way to holding off for a while…’

  ‘All right,’ decided Chalmers, ‘this is what I'll do. Right now I only have your word for this – and though I believe you, you're not a teacher at this school, you're not a member of the family or a neighbour or a person of any authority so it could just be gossip. I'll watch the boy. The next time I see a mark on him, he's in here and I'm on the phone. All right?’

  Daniel nodded. ‘Yes. Thanks.’

  ‘I'm glad you brought this to me,’ said Chalmers. ‘However we deal with it, one way or another we'll sort it out now.’ He scowled at the window, troubled. ‘Maybe we should have realised ourselves. Half a dozen of us see him five days a week – you wouldn't think we'd need telling he was having too many accidents.’

  Daniel was quick with reassurance. ‘It was a fluke, Des. I wouldn't have known either, except that he had the wit to come looking for help. In all honesty I'm not sure how much help I've been, but one thing I can do is make sure the beatings stop now. Quietly if I can, the other way if I have to. I appreciate your help.’

  ‘Any time, Daniel,’ said the Principal, adding hopefully, ‘And if that job of yours doesn't work out…’

  Daniel smiled. ‘You'll be the first to know.’

  The thing about walking everywhere – Looking For Something? ran one car and usually Brodie had it – is that you meet a lot of people. People walking the same way naturally fall into step and start talking to you. And people who know you even slightly stop their cars to offer you a lift.

  Daniel Hood and Charlie Voss were of a similar age, and events had conspired to draw them into one another's orbits so that after two years they enjoyed an undemanding friendship. Voss gave Daniel lifts when he saw him, Daniel gave Voss coffee when he was passing. The conversation was always the same: Brodie and Deacon.

  Daniel was walking back into town from Dimmock High when Voss drove past. Unless he had the hood up on his parka you couldn't miss Daniel. Voss braked and pulled in. ‘Where are you heading?’

  ‘Shack Lane,’ said Daniel. ‘Are you going to Battle Alley?’

  ‘Hop in.’ When they were on their way Voss added thoughtfully, ‘Actually, can I come in with you? I want a word with your boss.’

  ‘Brodie?’ Daniel's eyes were alarmed. ‘What's she done now?’

  Voss chuckled. ‘Nothing. At least, nothing I know about. But her ex is a solicitor, isn't he? I'm looking for a bit of legal gossip.’

  ‘Ask her by all means. She should be back by now. I don't know how much help she'll be, though. It's getting to be a while since she moved in those circles.’

  They left Voss's car on the derelict plot behind Shack Lane. Brodie's was there already, so she was back from her morning excursion. Daniel knocked politely in case she had someone with her, and she let them in.

  ‘Hello, Charlie,’ she said with every sign of pleasure. ‘I haven't seen you for a bit.’

  Voss hadn't seen Brodie for a bit either. There was a lot more of her now. He tried not to stare. ‘You know what it's like when there's a push on. Only now more than ever, ’cause there's two of them pushing me. We've got a specialist down from Serious And Organised.’

  Brodie rolled her eyes sympathetically. But actually she wasn't too interested in Voss's problems. ‘How's Jack?’

  ‘Fine, I think,’ he said. ‘I haven't seen much of him recently. We're working on different things.’

  ‘Ah.’ Voss wondered if she knew she could convey disappointment in a single syllable.

  ‘I want to pick your brains,’ he said apologetically. ‘Do you know Adam Selkirk?’

  He was expecting a reaction: he wasn't expecting Brodie to lean as far forward across her desk as her bump would allow and Daniel, who was making coffee, to shoot out of the tiny kitchen like the man in the Bavarian weather–house at the first sign of rain.

  ‘Now why would you ask that?’ Brodie wondered softly.

  Voss was clearly startled. ‘Because you've lived in this town longer than I have. You worked as a solicitor's researcher and then you married him. I thought you probably knew the town's other solicitors. Maybe I'm wrong. It's not important.’

  It was, though. Voss was feeling much as a dinghy might when someone on the big yacht cuts the painter: adrift, bobbing around, directionless. He was used to having Deacon tell him what he wanted and then finding a way of doing it. Hyde was allowing him more freedom but also giving him less guidance. And with the pair of them at one another's throats it was hard to ask either for advice.

  Plus, for a policeman, Voss had a touching faith in human nature. He was finding it hard to believe what both Deacon and Hyde would have accepted without a murmur, that a lawyer with a reputation to protect would lie outright t
o help a crooked client. It wasn't that he thought Brodie could tell him that. He hoped she could give him background on the man that would help him with his own judgement.

  ‘No, you're not wrong,’ Brodie said slowly. ‘John knew Adam Selkirk so we met socially from time to time. He's a rubbish dancer, I can tell you that much. What else do you want to know?’

  Charlie Voss may have been a touch naive sometimes but he was nobody's fool. ‘The first thing I'd like to know is why you both reacted as if I'd sat on a whoopee cushion when I mentioned his name.’

  They traded a glance, unsure what – if anything – they should say. Daniel had been prepared to go to the police but only as a last resort. But did this count as going to the police? Voss had come to them and asked Brodie's help. She had to either give or withhold it – there was no third way.

  Still picking her words carefully she said, ‘We were approached by a client for advice on a situation in which Adam Selkirk is also involved. I can't go into much detail, but if we got the story right he doesn't come out of it well. Later Selkirk came here to warn us off. We showed him the door, but not before threats and insults were issued. There was a moment when I thought he was going to thump Daniel, but it passed.’

  ‘Mm. Business as usual then,’ said Voss thoughtfully, and Brodie grinned.

  ‘So what's your interest in Adam Selkirk?’ asked Daniel.

  Voss gave an apologetic shrug. T can't go into much detail either. I suppose what I'm trying to establish is whether the guy's to be trusted.’ Their faces froze, telling him nothing.

  ‘We get a pretty jaded view of solicitors sometimes,’ Voss went on. ‘We see them across the formica table and they're always making life difficult for us. Well, that's all right, that's what they're paid for – to represent their clients and protect their interests. It's nothing we have any right to object to, even if our job would be easier without them.

  ‘But if they're just doing their job, there's no reason to tar them with the same brush as their clients. Every accused person is entitled to a proper defence and someone has to provide it. When he's not representing thugs and criminals, Adam Selkirk may very well be a decent upright citizen.’ He looked at Brodie. ‘You know him. You've probably heard people talk about him. I don't need you to break any confidences. Only, on the balance of probabilities, when this man tells me something as a fact – not repeating a client's instructions but claiming personal knowledge of something –should I believe him or not?’

  Brodie wasn't sure how to answer. She'd known Adam Selkirk, both professionally and socially, not well but over a period of years. She was aware of his reputation for toughness, as someone who positively enjoyed swimming with sharks, who was as easy to intimidate as a pit–bull terrier. Until this week she had never heard anything to his detriment as a man.

  While she was still considering her response, Daniel came to his own conclusion. T don't know what he's told you so I have no idea whether it's the truth or not. But he was certainly lying when he told me he wasn't hitting his twelve–year–old son.’

  The philosopher says, All men are liars. Therefore the philosopher is a liar. Therefore all men are not liars. Therefore perhaps the philosopher is not a liar. Therefore…

  Start from the known and work towards the unknown. Fact 1: Terry Walsh is a crook. People with no reason to lie saw him take a rival crook out on his boat, and two days later the guy's bullet–riddled body was found close to where Walsh was sailing.

  But Walsh has an alibi. No less a person than his solicitor says that he, not the bullet–riddled rival, was on Walsh's boat that weekend. The only people who positively identified the rival are a couple of Ancient Mariners who couldn't be relied on to spot a battleship in time to avoid it. But a woman who may have been Walsh's mistress says she heard him threaten Achille Bellow and the man who used to be his accountant says he heard him boast of killing him. Either of them could be lying. But why, and how, would they be lying in concert?

  In normal circumstances Adam Selkirk would be the perfect alibi. Solicitors have to deal with criminals but must themselves remain above reproach. Selkirk's testimony should be beyond question. But if a man lies about beating his twelve–year–old son, can you trust anything he says?

  If a man beats his twelve–year–old son, of course he lies about it. Does that necessarily mean he'd give a criminal a false alibi? Even if the criminal is both a client and a personal friend? The philosopher says, All men are liars…

  Helen Choi had had a hard shift in Intensive Care on Friday night and stumbled home in the early hours with nothing more ambitious in mind than a shower, a bite of supper and a good sleep. Now it was four in the morning and her fiance was lying immobile beside her, thinking hard enough to fill the darkened room with electricity.

  ‘Charlie,’ she mumbled plaintively, ‘you're keeping me awake.’

  ‘I'm not doing anything,’ he said, surprised.

  'That's what's keeping me awake. It's like trying to sleep next to a corpse!’

  ‘Well – what do you want me to do?’

  ‘Go to sleep.’

  ‘I can't sleep. Don't mind me, I'll just lie here quietly and think…’

  ‘Charlie…’

  When the Chinese nurse shouted, rugby–playing housemen and substantial porters jumped to obey her. Most of the time she didn't have to shout at Voss to get her own way – nobody bats her eyelashes like an Oriental girl. But this time he was incapable of doing as she asked. He did his best – he shuffled a bit from time to time, even feigned the odd snore – but remained unrelentingly awake until his alarm went at seven.

  But the night had not been wasted. By then he knew what to do.

  Alix Hyde liked it. She liked it a lot.

  ‘So what he thought was his ace in the hole turns out to be his…’ She wasn't a poker player, couldn't finish the analogy.

  Neither was Charlie Voss. ‘Toad in the hole?’ he suggested hopefully.

  The Inspector gave an appreciative chuckle. ‘Near enough, Charlie. Walsh thought his bent brief would get him off the hook. What he doesn't know is that Selkirk is himself facing investigation – the kind of investigation where even if the charge doesn't stick the mud will.

  ‘I don't doubt that if we quietly let Selkirk know what we know he'll take another look at his diary and discover that – goodness gracious! – that entry was actually made for the wrong month. But if he's stubborn enough to stick to his story, we can cast enough doubt on him as a husband and father to fatally undermine his value as a witness. We've got him, Charlie, and that means we've got Walsh too. Thanks to you.’

  Voss just wished he felt a bit happier. ‘We can't really use it to blackmail him,’ he pointed out uneasily. ‘We can't leave a child to be abused by his father, however keen the man is to cooperate in another case.’

  ‘Of course we can't,’ agreed Hyde. ‘But we can proceed one way rather than another. With discretion rather than blues–and–twos. Of course we'll make sure the kid's OK. But we can do it off the record. Let's face it, Charlie, this could ruin Selkirk's career. When he knows we're onto him, he'll mend his ways. We can protect the kid and still nail Walsh. It's like I always say.’

  They hadn't known one another long. ‘What do you always say, boss?’

  Alix Hyde smiled serenely. ‘When you have them by the balls, their hearts and minds will follow.’

  He'd expected she'd want to take over at this point. He was wrong. ‘Your idea, Charlie. Your local knowledge, your contacts. You bring it home. As long as I get Walsh I'm a happy bunny.’

  He gave a little thought to where he should start. He didn't want Selkirk thinking his son had betrayed him. On Monday morning he took Jill Meadows and went to Dimmock High School, and they took the area car because he wanted to be noticed. He wanted Selkirk to think that one of Noah's teachers had become concerned about him. After all, if they hadn't noticed his bruises they should have done.

  It wasn't the first time Chalmers had had detec
tives in his office. He'd learnt to be courteous and patient and wait for them to declare the reason for their visit. ‘So what can I do for you, Sergeant Voss?’

  Voss chose his words with care, not because he was uncertain of his ground but because that was the kind of policeman he was. ‘I'm here about a pupil of yours. Noah Selkirk.’

  ‘Oh yes?’ The tone of his voice, and the audible question mark, told Voss a couple of things. That Chalmers knew the boy, and that he wasn't as surprised as he should have been to have policemen making enquiries about him. This was a nicely brought–up child from a good family; his head teacher should have been astonished to be asked about him in this way. But he wasn't, which raised the possibility that he had some idea what was coming.

  ‘Have you seen him today?’

  ‘As a matter of fact I have,’ said Chalmers.

  ‘Did he seem all right?’

  ‘Yes, he did.’

  ‘You seem quite sure of that, sir.’

  ‘I made sure of it, Sergeant.’

  Voss nodded slowly. They could pussy–foot around for a while longer, but it was becoming obvious the Principal knew what he was talking about. So he put it on the table. ‘Only we've been alerted to the possibility that Noah's father is hitting him. I don't mean the odd shove – enough to leave bruises. Mr Chalmers, is that why you're keeping a close eye on him too?’

  Des Chalmers pursed his lips while he thought. But silence wasn't an option and he certainly wasn't going to lie. T can't vouch personally for the truth of the allegation. I noticed he had a black eye but I don't know how he got it. Noah hasn't confided in me or any of his teachers. Someone else raised his concerns with me.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Someone who asked me to be discreet, for fear of giving the boy even more problems. Someone who wouldn't lie to me, and would fully appreciate the seriousness of what he was suggesting.’

  ‘Someone you know.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘A usually reliable source.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Charlie Voss nodded. ‘You're talking about Daniel Hood.’

  ‘Ah.’ Chalmers didn't like secrets, was glad it was out. ‘He's spoken to you too? When we talked he was thinking of the police as a last resort.’