by Nick Brown
“Thank you, Jan, that was very brave and I think it constitutes one of the strongest character references I’ve ever heard. So we can take a vote on my proposal, which is that Claire comes to our next meeting with a view to becoming an ex-officio member of our circle. Those in favour.”
Olga saw Ailsa and Jenna raise their hands with Margaret. Margaret smiled at Jan who also raised her hand, followed by Rose and Leonie. Olga saw them all looking at her, but she kept her hand down. What had they done?
Margaret looked at Olga for the first time that evening.
“Not you, Olga. This will be the first time we’ve not agreed.”
She paused, waiting for Olga to relent, which she didn’t, and Margaret moved hurriedly on to her main point.
“Well, before we eat, I can now tell you something that Claire has already done for us. She’s found a potential replacement for poor dear Kelly. Someone who, like Kelly, has known suffering. Someone abused by her father into a breakdown which Claire was responsible for treating to the point where she has been completely rehabilitated. She too will come to our next meeting.”
While Margaret said this Olga had been watching Jan. She was becoming agitated and, as Margaret finished, she blurted out:
“Who is she, what’s her name?”
Margaret was obviously surprised by the tone of Jan’s voice but answered smoothly enough.
“Lisa Richardson.”
Olga saw a look of pure terror cross Jan’s face.
Chapter 15: “It’s in the ’ouse, it’s got inside me ’ouse”
First thing in the morning, the Chief sent for her. The message said it was urgent so she’d had to postpone signing the papers for the Didsbury apartment. She didn’t actually mind having to see the Chief. In fact, the only positive vibe about any of this was that she knew he backed her - liked her even. She felt the only reassurance she got came from him; she still wasn’t sure if the rest of the team accepted her, well Jimmy maybe.
In many ways she was in a double bind because, behind the politically correct front, she was pretty sure they suspected that having her imposed on them, in charge of the operation, was down to her colour. That would always niggle away at her and as her mood was down it fed on negatives, and the next of those on her increasingly long list was bloody Zorba.
Theodrakis said nothing helpful and made no attempt to bond with anyone. He just stood around, expensively dressed, looking elegant and bored. But she knew that under this reflective surface lay a mound of experience that he wanted kept hidden. He was like an iceberg with the most dangerous eight-ninths hidden below the waterline. She also knew that getting him to share that experience could prove worse than letting him keep it. On top of everything else about him it was his comment about Greek names that was most irritating - a clever bugger remark out of context in a murder enquiry briefing. It had put her on the back foot and embarrassed her in front of her team, and she still felt the shame of it.
By this time she’d reached the door to the Chief’s office. She ran her fingers through her hair in a vain effort to push it into some facsimile of neatness and knocked. There was a gruff bark from inside which she interpreted as an invitation to enter. He was sitting slumped behind his desk but, upon looking up and seeing her, managed a smile.
“Come and sit down, lass. I’ll send for some tea and a chocolate biscuit.”
So far so good then. She slid into the chair across the desk from his and waited for what was coming.
“Something’s up at Skendleby Hall. I’ve had a call on my direct line from Carver, but I’ll play you a recording of the 999 call he made first, it’ll give you a better idea of how he was feeling.”
He pressed a tab on his keyboard and, after the voice of the police operative, Viv heard an agitated voice that she recognised as Carver.
“Get someone here now, emergency. It’s come for me, come up out of that hole.”
There was a scuffling sound and then the voice again, this time panicked, shouting.
“It’s come out of the hole, it’s in the ’ouse, it’s got inside me bleedin ’ouse.”
The Chief switched off the recording and looked at Viv. There was no mistaking the fear in Carver’s voice. She asked:
“What happened? Is he all right?”
“He’s physically fine and we still don’t know what happened: when the local boys got out there they couldn’t find anyone. Couldn’t find any trace of a break in, couldn’t find anything. By that time Carver had regained enough composure to be angry. They got to the Hall just after three and they’re still there. I’ve told them to wait until you arrive.”
He poured tea and offered her a chocolate biscuit; she knew she was the only one to get this treatment.
“I’ll not play you the conversation he had with me; although he was calmer there wasn’t much difference. He’s scared stupid and it takes a lot to scare a man like that.”
He slurped down some tea before adding:
“It makes no sense but he claims that someone dressed in a type of Halloween outfit got into the house, and he’s sure it came up out of the hole under where the girl was killed. He thinks there’s some type of conspiracy to scare him out and, believe me, he’s certainly scared. So check it out thoroughly, will you? Maybe it’s time to persuade our archaeological friend to have a good look at what’s under the pit.”
She started to protest about having to go back to Giles, but he raised his hand in a signal to listen.
“I know, I know, he doesn’t exactly love us at present, so just remind him that this is his opportunity to look around that chapel you said he was so keen on.”
She finished the tea and headed off to find Jimmy and Zorba. As they made their way to the car she couldn’t help noticing again the discrepancy in appearance between them. Jimmy, like her, was wearing a well-worn suit of similar quality to hers, which had been bought in a Debenhams sale and which she noticed in a mirror was baggy and seated. Zorba looked like he‘d just walked out of the shop window of Harrods. They drove through a drizzle of sleet to Skendleby without speaking. At the Hall, as Anderson parked the car, Theodrakis asked her:
“If you don’t mind, Inspector, I won’t come in with you, I want to have a look round the chapel.”
She snapped back at him.
“Why? Have you suddenly become an archaeological expert?”
He ignored the sarcasm.
“No, of course not. But you don’t need me inside and it suits me to study the chapel.”
A heavily built man with a street fighter’s scars and a badly reset nose showed Viv and Anderson into a large room with a full size billiard table and a new stone built bar. Sitting on a barstool, unshaven and nursing a drink, was Si Carver. He neither welcomed them nor invited them to sit, just snarled:
“Well, you’ve taken your time gettin’ here.”
“We came as quickly as we could, Mr Carver, and I understand you’ve had a police presence at the hall since the early hours.”
“Well, it’s not bleedin good enough.”
He took a drink and Viv saw his hand was shaking as he lifted the glass to his lips.
“There has already been one murder here, how many more do you want?”
Viv forced her mouth into a sympathetic smile and asked:
“Would you like to tell us what happened last night?”
Over the next hour, Carver tried to explain what had frightened him. It was a rambling, unbelievable account. But as he talked he convinced them that he believed it even if they didn’t understand. Anderson made some notes, then asked:
“Who do you think is trying to frighten you? Who was in here last night?”
“There’s a conspiracy to get me out, to stop me development. It all started when the archaeologists messed things up last year. Since then I’ve had nuisance calls, intruders in the grounds. Then there are the crows, them bleedin crows.”
This last reflection halted him in mid-delivery. For a moment it seemed that he couldn�
��t continue, but then he added:
“It’s driven me staff away and murdered one and now someone’s broke in. What more do you want? What does it take to get you people to do anything?”
Viv saw that he was near the edge and that the drink wasn’t helping.
“We’re giving this top priority, we’ll step up the security and investigate what’s under the chapel, although we’ll need to involve the archaeologists.”
“You said that last time. ‘Consider it done’, you said. Well, it wasn’t, was it? Anyway you can involve whoever you like and put in as much security as you want, it won’t do no good.”
He clearly was highly distressed, so much so that, for a moment, Viv almost felt sorry for him.
“I’m sure we…”
“You haven’t seen it, you don’t know what it’s like, what it does: you haven’t had to live with it.”
“Tell us what you want us to do.”
“I want you to catch it, get rid of it - I want you to do your bleedin jobs.”
“Ok, I understand how you must feel, just try again to describe what you saw.”
“I dunno, like I said, it was all in black. It was like bigger than it should have been and in more places. It was old, smelt old; it moved funny, you know, floating about. It knew me. I‘ve already told you over and over.”
He was right, he had, but it still didn’t make any sense. Viv decided to talk to him again the following day when he’d be a bit calmer. But he hadn’t finished.
“Like I told you last time, you need to pull in that vicar, it always comes from his churchyard, and the old fool who used to live here. They’re behind this and the protests. How many more murders do you want?”
There was nothing more they could achieve here. She tried to reassure him about the level of protection they were leaving and got one of the local lads in to take a full statement. They were shown out and, as they walked to the car, Anderson said:
“I didn’t expect that, not from him. It’s normally him who does the frightening. Funny thing is that description of the intruder though.”
“Oh, that ‘Living Dead’ stuff. That was just his nerves and the drink.”
“Maybe, I’m sure you’re right, Ma’am, but it’s not the first time I’ve heard it. I’m pretty certain I took a statement describing pretty much the same thing during the attacks round here last Christmas, and not from Carver.”
Viv never got an opportunity to reply because history was about to repeat itself. Jogging towards them from the direction of the estate wall, this time in a pink Lycra ensemble, was Suzzie Jade. Anderson observed:
“Well, doesn’t look like she’s too bothered by last night.”
“Hiyaa, can’t keep away from here then, can ya?”
Viv smiled a greeting and asked:
“Is there anything you can tell us about last night, Mrs Carver?”
“I prefer Suzzie-Jade, I think I told you that last time, but no, they already asked me that this morning.”
“Is there nothing more you can help us with? Every little helps.”
Suzzie-Jade laughed.
“Now you sound like Tesco! No, I didn’t even wake up so I can’t tell you nothink, sorry. But I hope that you can sort out all this. It’s really getting to Si, making him very difficult to live with. If he’s in a bad mood there’s no fun for anyone, know what I mean?”
She started to move off, saying to Anderson as she passed him:
“Where do you work out then?”
“Me? Oh, at Total Lifestyle.”
“Yeah? Nice. I’ve got a personal traina, that’s why I have to do all this. See ya.”
As she moved off towards the front entrance of the Hall, Anderson grinned and said:
“Well, at least she’s consistent, I’m almost getting to like her.”
If he was expecting any type of banter by way of reply he was disappointed. All Viv said came from the perspective of a more anxious stream of consciousness.
“Look how dark it’s getting. Where’s Theodrakis?”
“I don’t know, Ma’am. He said he wanted to look at the chapel, perhaps he’s still in there.”
They walked round the side of the Hall, past a couple of sheds and towards the chapel. If it seemed gloomy by the car it was stygian round there, amongst the dark green of the dripping rhododendrons. The ancient stone of the chapel was stained and eroded: it transmitted an aura of decay and neglect which wasn’t helped by the pit that stopped just a couple of feet short of it and which was slowly becoming waterlogged.
The door of the chapel was slightly ajar. Anderson pulled at the rusted iron of the door ring and it opened with a creek. Inside it was cold and musty. The woodwork, seat and wall coverings were all mildewed. Viv glanced at the motto carved into the coat of arms above the door as she followed him in.
It read, ‘Vigilate et custodite’. She’d done a short course in Latin at sixth form college and knew enough to understand that it said something about watching. As her eyes got used to the murky light she saw a figure sitting crouched on the front pew.
Theodrakis stood up slowly and walked towards them, his expression unreadable in the permanent twilight of the decomposing chapel. Viv decided to say nothing, placing the onus on him to talk, and she was surprised when he said immediately:
“We should talk to Giles; I’ve arranged to meet him at a pub near here. A pub with an odd name which I’ve…”
She snapped back. Bit his head off as all her frustration poured out.
“You’ve arranged! Let me remind you who’s in charge of this case. Let me remind you who decides who we meet, where and when. Don’t you dare….”
This time it was Theodrakis’s turn to interrupt, and he did it by holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender and, smiling an apology, said:
“Please, I’m sorry. I know I’ve not been helpful but if we go to this pub now, I’ll tell you what I know before Giles arrives. I don’t think it would be advisable for us to talk in here.”
This surprised Viv and she thought: so he can communicate when it suits him. She wanted to get away from here too, there was something contagiously unhealthy about the atmosphere in the chapel. She regretted the outburst; Jimmy recognised the pub from Zorba’s description and so they set off.
Waiting at the table in the corner for Jimmy to fetch the drinks, Viv felt her mood begin to lift. It had been almost dark as they pulled out of the Skendleby Hall drive, the year was getting old.
Theodrakis took a sip of brandy then talked.
“Please, don’t be angry at what I’m going to say. I’ll tell you what I know but I’m not sure you’ll understand it or find it helpful, at least not yet. In that chapel I felt the things I felt in Samos. Please listen and don’t interrupt until I’ve said it all - it will only make sense to you when you experience more of this. Ok, you promise?”
They nodded.
“I don’t think the chapel is real in the way that other places, like this pub, are. No, I can see you beginning to question, don’t. There was a place on Samos like this and I think they are connected. That’s the first thing I know.”
He finished his brandy and rubbed his hands together as if for warmth.
“The second thing is this. On Samos we looked for a culprit. We didn’t understand that no one did it, or whatever occasioned it we would never find.”
Viv couldn’t stop herself.
“But you solved it, you made arrests.”
“Yes, we made arrests and yes, the killings stopped. That’s true, but only up to a point. We caught people who carried out the physical aspects of the contagion, but they weren’t the generative force. They had no reason for what they did, no past record and, in one case, I think it’s improbable that the perpetrator had the physical capacity for the attack. There was conclusive forensic evidence, a compulsion to confess, but no logic.
You must understand that there are two simultaneous processes at work here, and your murders are a symptom of someth
ing much older and far worse. I can’t explain it, but the Skendleby excavation, what I encountered on Samos and your case are just a tiny fragment of something unknowable. If you want to stop this you need to look for someone with no motive, no record and no connection or profile.”
Anderson spluttered into his drink and Viv began to protest. Then they were interrupted.
“Well, what have we here? Our old Greek friend, Inspector Theodrakis...”
The voice was amused and mocking. Viv turned to see a strikingly beautiful black-haired woman approaching the table with Dr Giles Glover behind her.
“Hi, I’m Claire, I’m with Giles.”
Her eyes were sparkling as she spoke. Viv found her hypnotic but noticed Theodrakis edging back into his corner seat as she approached. Later, when she looked back on the time in the pub, she couldn’t remember much, certainly not why Claire was there, just that Giles agreed to investigate the chapel and the pit. But as they were leaving Claire took her hand and held it while she said:
“I’m glad we’ve met at last, honey, we’re going to have some special times.”
While she said this she looked straight into Viv’s eyes, and when Viv recovered her hand she thought she saw for a fraction of a second her eyes turn jet black.
That night Viv’s sleep was disturbed by a nightmare in which a young woman was dragged into some type of tomb beneath an earthen mound, and then walled up alive.
Chapter 16: Dark at Lindow
Early morning in the rectory was disturbed by the phone ringing, Ed reached it first.
“St George’s Rectory, Ed Joyce speaking.”
“Ed, its Olga, I need to see you.”
“I thought we agreed it was better not to ring me here.”
“Sorry, this is urgent, we have to meet.”
“Well, I think I might have some time later, perhaps this evening.”
“No, it’s got to be before then, meet me in the lane by the Lindow cuttings in an hour.”
“What’s all this about, Olga?”
“Sorry, Ed, I can’t talk here, try to find out what you can about Lisa Richardson. See you later, bye.”
