Even Pretty Things Rot: A dark, heart-pounding psychic thriller

by Farah Ali

  With a sudden urgency Jack flicked through the forensic report. As expected Noah’s clothes were blood-stained. His trousers had Amelia and Maura’s blood on them but his shirt only had Amelia’s. Jack scrabbled at the photographs turning them over and staring at each one in turn.

  He picked up the phone and called Henning.

  ***

  Henning read the autopsy report and spent a long time examining the crime scene photographs muttering under his breath in German. Finally, he laid them aside and looked at Jack, curiosity in his light green eyes.

  ‘May I ask why this case is of interest to you? According to the date written here it is eighteen-years-old. It cannot have anything to do with the recent murders, can it?’

  ‘No. It’s...for something else.’

  ‘Ah, I see.’ Henning hid a smile. ‘Cassandra? That name is familiar. This case has been mentioned to me before. Also...’ He snapped his fingers. ‘Ah. I know. Lila Cassandra found the bodies, your friend, the psychic.’

  Jack sighed. ‘Yes. I’m looking into this for her. She’s convinced her father didn’t murder her mother and sister and wants his name cleared. I was doubtful at first, but I believe she’s right—Noah Cassandra didn’t do this.’

  ‘That is a very admirable thing to do. Especially with your current workload.’

  ‘I am not shirking my responsibilities. I am absolutely focused on catching this killer,’ Jack snapped, sensing a rebuke in the pathologist’s words. ‘It helps to switch cases for a little while. It’s something I’ve done for a long time.’

  Henning blinked, surprised at Jack’s vehemence, and held up his hands. ‘It was not a criticism, Inspector. Not at all.’

  Jack smoothed down his hair. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overreact.’

  ‘Apology accepted. We are all under strain, you more so than anyone else.’

  Henning adjusted his tie and Jack felt a jab of guilt. The pathologist had been on the verge of leaving the hospital when Jack called.

  ‘I hope you won’t be late for your play?’

  ‘No, though I will probably miss the drinks with my friends beforehand.’ Henning glanced at the smart clock on the wall of his tiny, airless office. ‘So, how can I help? Perhaps you should tell me what you have found so far. This case interests me.’

  Jack took a deep breath and explained the events leading up to the murder-suicide and the conclusions he’d drawn, based on the evidence.

  Henning listened in silence, pursing his lips. When Jack finished he nodded slowly.

  ‘I understand your point. Noah Cassandra’s behaviour does not make sense. Why kill with a hammer when he had a revolver? Neither does the behaviour of his wife and daughters. But...’ He shrugged. ‘Sometimes crimes don’t make sense. People do not behave in a logical way. And yet, I fear the police may have jumped to the most obvious conclusion without considering other possibilities.’

  ‘Exactly. It looked like a murder-suicide to them so all the evidence was filtered through those lens.’ Jack leaned forward. ‘I know this case was before you came to Deerleap, but I think you can help. I need you to confirm something for me.’

  Henning steepled his fingers. ‘With pleasure.’

  Jack picked up a photograph of Noah Cassandra slumped against the wall. ‘Look at Noah Cassandra’s knees.’ He pointed to the blood-stained tan material. ‘What do you see?’

  Frowning, Henning brought the photo close. ‘Large blood stains about the same size concentrated on each knee. Otherwise the trousers are clean.’

  ‘Does it look like Noah kneeled down in a pool of blood?’

  ‘Yes. The size and symmetry of the stains indicates that. Yes, that is exactly what it looks like.’ Henning paused. ‘Did they do a blood splatter analysis? On their clothes?’

  ‘No. Nor did they bother to test for gunshot residue. I’d bet my life-savings that Noah Cassandra never fired that revolver. But of course the killer would have wiped his own prints off and placed Noah’s back there.’ Jack slammed his palms against his thighs. ‘And the clothes have been destroyed. I checked.’

  Henning clicked his tongue. ‘That is a shame. A real shame. But in my experience quite typical of an under-resourced, small-town police force. They are under pressure to close a case, especially one so horrendous and seemingly obvious.’

  ‘But do you see my point, Henning? If Noah bludgeoned his wife and daughter with a hammer his trousers and shirt would be splattered with blood. According to the report his shirt was covered in his own blood and Amelia’s, but why not Maura’s? And as for his trousers? They were clean apart from the circular stains on the knees.’

  Jack’s voice hardened. ‘Noah Cassandra heard the disturbance and grabbed his revolver before running upstairs. He came upstairs and found his wife and daughter dead. He kneeled in their blood—that explains the stained knees. He held Amelia’s head to his chest which explains her blood on his shirt, but not Maura’s. The scene would have stunned him to the core and his first instinct would be to go to Amelia and Maura. The killer, hiding perhaps, overpowered him, took the revolver and shot him in the head, arranged his body against the wall, placed the revolver in his hand, and left the hammer at his feet.’

  ‘My God. And the girl—Lila—saw all this?’

  ‘Yeah. The murders at least, I think so. She ran for her life, but she was only a little kid, what chance would she have had? And after killing her entire family he couldn’t let her go, no way, she was a witness.’ Jack sighed. ‘If that horse hadn’t kicked her Lila would be dead.’

  Henning swallowed audibly. ‘I almost hope for her sake she does not remember. It would be...traumatic.’

  Jack groaned. ‘I know. I’m afraid to give her the case file, but I know she wants to see it. She tried to access it, many times without success, when she moved to Deerleap. Could it jog her memory?

  ‘Perhaps. Or it might not. The brain is a curious structure and incredibly complex. We still do not fully understand how it works. Perhaps her memories are still there, but buried deep, in order to protect her.’

  ‘I don’t want to give her this file. But after so long maybe Lila remembering is the only way to bring the killer to justice. I don’t know what the right thing to do is.’

  The pathologist sighed. ‘Indeed. But you must see things from her point of view. You would want to know the truth, no?’

  The room was silent apart from the steady ticking of the wall clock. Jack met Henning’s gaze across the desk.

  ‘Yes. Yes, I would. Even if it destroyed me.’ Jack closed his eyes.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Jack hunched over the steering wheel navigating the narrow backroads through the rain-battered windscreen. It hadn’t taken him long to realise that Deerleap was prone to extreme weather variations thanks to its proximity to the mountain. The wipers struggled to cope with the deluge and the squeaking rubber put his teeth on edge. Exhaustion needled behind his dry eyes, but the day, at last, was over.

  After leaving the hospital he’d returned to the police station to find Maggie waving the telephone in excitement. Alika had called after a member of the public reported a man putting a naked woman in the boot of a car. Alika and Rhea had identified the car and were tailing it down Ayal Avenue.

  Jack had dropped everything and driven over the speed limit through a downpour to the commercial street populated by restaurants and clothing boutiques. The excitement faded when he saw the chagrin and annoyance on their faces. Without saying a word Rhea pointed to the open boot.

  The torso of the unconscious woman was stiff and grey, nestling on top of a pile of clothes, her limbs stacked neatly beside her. Jack’s lips twisted as cold drops slid down his neck. The mannequin’s owner, an elderly Italian man who sold second-hand clothes hopped from foot to foot, gesturing indignantly with his hands as Alika attempted to calm him down.

  ‘Sorry, Inspector,’ muttered Rhea, wiping the raindrops from her glasses with a crumbling tissue. ‘For a minute there we r
eally thought we were onto something.’

  ‘Chin up. It’s not your fault. And these sorts of calls are to be expected. At least the public are keeping their eyes open. Any luck with the house fire angle?’ Jack wasn’t hopeful—Lila’s vision had been vague and he was clutching at straws.

  ‘No, not yet. There’ve been fires in Deerleap of course and we’ve been going to the properties to talk to people, but nothing has struck us as out of the ordinary so far. All the fires have been minor.’

  Returning to the station Jack sifted through all the notes and evidence in the Bianca Hayle and Abigail McNally murders until his eyes swam. The triumph of the Cassandra case melted away in the face of failure. Finally, when the need for food and sleep became overwhelming, Jack left the dark, silent office and headed home.

  Deep in thought, it was twenty minutes before he glanced around and realised he had taken the route towards Lila’s house. He checked the dashboard. It was almost midnight and Lila was probably asleep. Of course he had big news for her, but he thought it might be better to wait for a little while.

  The rain eased slightly and when the depressing windmill came into view he turned into the dirt track by her home, surprised to see her bedroom light on behind the curtains, a tiny beacon in the night. He wondered if she ever got lonely, all alone with just a canary for company.

  Distracted, he didn’t see the fawn slinking out of the trees onto the road, frozen by the glare of his headlights. It collided with a sickening thud and he braked hard.

  ‘Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit.’ Jack gripped the steering wheel in shock and regret. He hadn’t been going fast, maybe it was still alive.

  Flinging open the door he stared then laughed in relief. The fawn, not a newborn, but still young, gazed up at him fearfully. It tried to rise on spindly legs as Jack came closer but collapsed in a puddle.

  ‘It’s all right, you’re all right, I’ll take care of you.’

  Jack ran to the boot and took out a blanket. He hesitated for a split-second then grabbed the Cassandra file from the backseat and tucked it inside his jacket. Scooping up the fawn he strode through the rain towards Lila’s house. The fawn didn’t struggle and Jack could feel its fragile bones and racing heartbeat against his chest. It was like carrying a child.

  Glad to be under Lila’s porch and out of the rain he knocked on the door gently at first, not wanting to frighten her. When no one answered he tried again, harder this time. Water poured out of the broken guttering landing in the mud with a noisy splash.

  Lila opened the door barefoot and in an over-sized t-shirt, her hair mussed. The shadows under her eyes were worse and she looked almost unearthly beneath the gentle white light.

  ‘Jack?’

  ‘I’m sorry for disturbing you so late. I hit a deer. I saw your light on...can you help? I don’t think it’s injured, but it might be in shock. The vet wouldn’t be open at this time.’

  ‘Of course, come in. There’s a shed at the back, it’s small but dry and warm. Just let me put my coat and shoes on.’

  Jack followed her through the shop, through a store room and out the back into a scrap of garden, past the raised beds Lila had created to grow vegetables and herbs. The shed, built to mimic a tiny stable, was in good condition and when Lila pulled a string a light bulb fizzled on. Jack gazed around in surprise. Clean hay carpeted the stone floor and there was a bucket of water in the corner.

  ‘I didn’t know you kept livestock.’

  Lila took the fawn from his arms and placed it onto the hay. ‘I don’t, but I had a vision yesterday that I needed to prepare for this. I saw a fawn hit by a car by the house. I just didn’t know it would be you. Anyway, I cleared out the shed and got some hay from my uncle’s farm.’

  Jack didn’t know how to react to this so he stayed quiet and watched Lila gently examine the creature which seemed unfazed by her touch. She had a way with animals and Jack wondered if she had inherited it from her parents. Finally, she straightened wiping her hands on her coat.

  ‘It’s okay, you didn’t hurt him, not really. Good thing you weren’t speeding. I’ll keep him here overnight to rest and then release him back into the forest in the morning. He’ll find his mother, he’s young, but not a baby.’

  ‘That’s a relief.’ Jack kneeled on the hay and stroked the fawn’s ear. ‘Sorry little guy. I’ll pay more attention next time.’

  Lila crossed her arms, smiling sadly.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’re nothing like Ash.’

  ‘Ash?’

  She scowled. ‘David Ash. The last Inspector.’

  Jack brushed hay off his trousers. ‘Of course, you would’ve known him.’ He thought Lila’s face darkened because Ash hadn’t let see her family’s case file, but he was wrong.

  ‘He wasn’t a nice man. I saw him shoot deer, in a vision I mean. I think he was selling the heads as trophies outside the Hollow. The deer in the forest are unusual. They’re larger than average and prized for their rarity.’

  Jack was shocked. ‘But isn’t that illegal? The deer are protected.’

  Lila looked down at her grubby, untied shoes.

  ‘Why didn’t you report him?’

  ‘Of course I did. I told my uncle, but he didn’t believe me. So I told Angus Brent the police chief. He didn’t believe me either, but when I insisted he said he would discuss it with Ash. Ash got really angry with me. He came to my shop and threatened me.’

  ‘He threatened you?’

  Lila nodded unhappily, not meeting Jack’s eyes. ‘He told me to mind my own business. He said no one would believe a crazy girl like me. I...I lost my temper. I told him to get out. I said I’d get evidence next time, you know, like a photo. He went red and messed up my shop. Broke stuff too. Said if I troubled him anymore he’d hurt me.’

  ‘God, Lila.’ Jack felt sick to his stomach as they exited the shed, leaving the fawn dozing deep in the hay. He’d known rogue, bad policemen before. They were like a cancer in any police force destroying the trust of the public. ‘Did you report him?’

  She tilted her head, amused. ‘Who was I supposed to report him to? No one would believe me over Ash. Everyone adored him.’ She shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter anyway. He committed suicide. I still feel guilty though.’

  Jack followed her upstairs confused. Tulip trilled as soon as he saw Lila, hopping from branch to branch inside the cage.

  ‘Guilty? Why should you feel guilty?’

  Lila sighed and twisted her fingers. ‘Because I saw it.’ She tapped her head. ‘But I didn’t tell him, or his wife. Not that they would have listened anyway, but...I feel I had a responsibility.’

  ‘It’s not your fault. He was suicidal. If he didn’t jump off the hospital roof he would have done it some other way.’ Suddenly Jack saw Angela driving into the sea with Oliver in his Moses basket. His hands shook and he had to steady his breathing.

  ‘Maybe. I wonder about it though. According to Mrs Ash he wasn’t depressed or suicidal. She was pregnant and Ash was excited about the new baby.’ Lila looked at the stag she had painted. ‘I think it happened because of the Ayal curse. After all, he broke the covenant by killing the deer. Maybe his soul haunts the forest now too.’

  Jack grew thoughtful. ‘My first instinct is to scoff, but then again I asked Maggie about it. She said on that day he went to the hospital to interview a hit-and-run victim. All of a sudden, mid-interview, he got up, climbed ten flights of stairs and walked off the roof. The CCTV showed no hesitation, no change in pace, nothing. He just walked off the roof. Afterwards some nurses who passed him in the corridor said he looked like he was sleep-walking.’

  Both of them were silent until Tulip warbled again. Lila roused.

  ‘You better get to bed.’

  Jack yawned. ‘I think you’re right. Thank you for helping, with the deer, I mean. I’ll let myself out.’ The edge of the folder dug into his hip. He’d forgotten it was there. He hesitated gazing around the cosy room, his thoughts racing.
r />   Don’t give it to her yet, Jack. She might not be ready.

  Give it to her. It’s time.

  There was no choice, not really. He undid his jacket and held the Cassandra file to his chest

  Lila froze. Her face flushed and then all the blood drained away. ‘Oh my God. That’s it, isn’t it?’ Claws of dread tightened around her until she couldn’t breathe.

  Jack nodded, finding it difficult to swallow. ‘I’ve looked through it. And you’re right Lila. Your father didn’t do it. He’s innocent.’

  He took a deep breath and told her what he believed had happened. Tears ran down Lila’s cheeks.

  ‘Someone framed your father,’ whispered Jack, wanting to hold her but unsure it would be welcome.

  Lila choked back a sob and traced the horse-shoe indent in the side of her skull. ‘I know. I’ve always known. Now, give it to me. I want to see.’

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Lila huddled on the bed, the crime scene photos spread in a semi-circle around her. She had never known such cold. Ice had replaced her bones. Her teeth chattered. She pulled the blanket tighter, but nothing stopped the shivering. Tulip, agitated, flew above her head. She had left the cage door open, but neglected to return the bird to its home.

  It was four in the morning. Jack had left hours ago. Fearful for her state of mind he’d refused to leave until Lila pushed him out of the door wild-eyed and screaming.

  His grey, horrified face floated at the periphery of Lila’s subconscious, but for now she was consumed by a hurt so intense it blotted everything else out.

  How many years had she wanted to see this file, to see what had befallen her family with her own eyes. Yes, she had gone to the library and read old newspaper articles, yes her nightmares were vivid and frightening, but they had a surreal quality and nothing had prepared her for the stark horror of the images in front of her.